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A dull thump and the assassin goes limp on top of me. I’m so surprised, I shove them up before I realize what happened. Helen stands over us, a lamp in her hands and a fierce look on her face. I blink. She just…hit the attacker over the head. She saved me. Isn’t that a kick in the pants?
She goes to bring the lamp down again, but I throw a hand out. “Wait!”
“Fuck off! They have a knife!”
“We need to question them.” I grab the knife and toss it away. “We need to tie them up and go get Bellerophon.”
She hesitates long enough that I belatedly realize I’m not talking to one of my subordinates. No matter how well she accounted for herself in the first trial, Helen is not trained in combat, and this is probably the first dangerous situation she’s ever found herself in. Fuck.
“Helen.” I try to keep my voice low and even, the way Patroclus would, as I shove the assassin to the floor and yank their arms behind them so I can keep them pinned even after they wake up. “Take a breath.”
“I’m fine.” Her unsteady tone makes a liar out of her. She’s trying, though. I admire that despite myself.
“That was quick thinking with the lamp.” I adjust my hold on the assassin’s wrists. “Pretty sure you saved my life. Thanks.”
“Just returning the favor,” she says faintly. She gives herself a shake. “Bellerophon. Right. I’ll call them.”
I watch her as she staggers to the phone by the bed and picks it up. If she passes out or something, I’m not going to be able to do a damn thing about it without releasing the attacker, and that’s not an option. But Helen manages to keep it together as she speaks into the phone, giving a quick rundown of what just happened. “Yes, please hurry.” She hangs up and drops down to sit on the bed. Neither of us speak in the thirty seconds it takes Bellerophon and their people to all but bust down the door.
They rush into the bedroom and flip on the lights, already issuing orders. “Secure the attacker and transport them off the property, and do it quietly. Athena will want an update immediately.” They turn to us. “Achilles and Helen, please wait a moment and then I’ll speak with you in the living room.”
I don’t offer to help. They have things well in hand…except for the fact that there’s a godsdamned assassin on the property. “How the fuck did this happen, Bellerophon? This place is supposed to be secure.”
“I plan on figuring that out,” they snap.
I move out of the way while their people slap zip ties on the attacker and haul them to their feet. They’re a white dude with nondescript features, short dark hair, and narrow blue eyes. They blink blearily, taking in the room and everyone in it. I tense, ready for them to say some shit, but they only glare silently at us as Bellerophon’s people haul them out of the room.
Bellerophon makes a face. “I have to call Athena. Give me two minutes.”
“Yeah. No problem.” I watch them leave and exhale slowly. Things happen fast in combat situations, but I’d come to Helen’s door prepared for a tough conversation and ended up in a fight for my life. I glance at her. She’s got that thousand-mile stare going on. Shit. I drop down onto the bed next to her. “You good?”
“No.”
Her honesty surprises me. I would have thought she’d try to play it cool even though I can feel the bed vibrating with the force of her shaking. I twist to face her. She’s gone even paler than normal. I’m pretty fucking sure I can hear her teeth chattering. “Helen—”
“I’ll be okay in a minute.” Even her voice sounds wrong, thready and weak. “Just…just give me a fucking minute.”
“You just had a scare of a lifetime. No one’s expecting you to waltz through an attempt on your life without, uh, having an emotional reaction. It’s okay to fall apart.”
“It’s really not.” She stiffens. “And I’m not falling apart. It’s adrenaline letdown. I’m fine.”
Fuck, I’m terrible at this. I always, always say the wrong thing no matter how hard I try. Patroclus would know words that would put her at ease and reassure her. I’m better at action. With that in mind, I reach over, pick her up, and set her on my lap. She makes an angry hissing sound, but she doesn’t immediately punch me in the face.
“You’re safe.” There. That’s nice and neutral. When she doesn’t try to move, I wrap my arms around her. Even precious princesses find hugs comforting, right?
Slowly, breath by breath, she relaxes against me. That, more than anything, tells me how fucked she is in the head right now. She should be fighting and clawing and running her mouth, but instead, she’s shaking like a kitten. My chest gives an uncomfortable lurch, and I hug her a little tighter. “You’re safe,” I repeat.
