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I named you after the goddess of war.
Athena Saint.
I’m no one’s sacrifice.
I lurch up and sideways, throwing myself backwards towards the altar. I doubt I can grab the knife, but I try anyway, reaching for the studded handle. My fingers almost go around it, but I manage to knock it sideways, sending it off of the altar and skidding across the stone floor, sliding away from us both.
One word spills from my lips, a scream in the echoing room.
“Dean!”
He lunges forward at the same time one of the Sons do, both of them going for the knife. Dean gets to it first, his hand snatching it up, and he comes for me, throwing himself bodily against the Son who tries to block his path. With one swift motion, he grabs my wrists, hauling me backwards as he slides the dagger between my hands, slicing through the ropes. He nicks me in the process, the point of the blade scoring my skin painfully, but I barely notice.
“No!” Philip St. Vincent lurches forward, grabbing for Dean, and Dean shoves the dagger into my hands, his eyes wide and fierce like nothing I’ve ever seen from him, glinting like ice in his face as he turns and swings, his fist connecting with Philip’s face.
And then it’s madness.
I know exactly what I’m supposed to do. I go for Jaxon first, the one most capable of helping me right now. The other hooded figures are shrinking back, unsure of what’s happening, and that’s exactly what I’d hoped for. I don’t know who they all are, but I’d guess they’re other family members, other old men who will be caught off guard that their sacrifices are daring to fight back. But the Sons, ten or so of them if I have to guess, are already surging forward, doing their job and intent on keeping us from succeeding.
I’ve never been more grateful for Jaxon’s training. I clutch the dagger in my left hand, ducking as one of the Sons comes towards me, slicing wildly at one as I strike out at another with my right fist, managing to catch him in the jaw. There’s no finesse or grace to my movements, I rush headlong for the pillar where Jaxon is bound, throwing myself behind it and sawing wildly at the ropes that are holding him.
But Jaxon doesn’t hesitate, either.
The moment he’s free, he lurches forward too, going for three of the Sons at once, his fists raised and his entire body thrown into the fight. I don’t dare take the time to watch him, but I can tell he’s trying to disarm them. I start to go for Cayde, but he catches my eyes, shaking his head wildly.
“Don’t!” Cayde yells. “I can’t help you fight! Get Mia loose, and fight, Athena!Fight!”
I nod, swerving and going for Mia next, stabbing at the Son who tries to intercept me. It’s not easy to stab a man, and the dagger glances off of him, but it slices deeply enough into his thigh that he staggers back, yelling in pain as I go for Mia’s ropes next.
“If you can’t fight, hide,” I gasp at her, and then a movement above me catches my eye.
Dean is grappling with his father, the two of them struggling as Mark tries to strike his son, attempting to subdue him. Dean isn’t paying attention to anything else, and now Winter is pushing herself up from the altar, her eyes burning and furious as she grabs the heavy chalice from the other side of her, her nude body rising up like some kind of marble statue come to life as she raises the chalice above her head, clearly intending to bring it down onto Dean’s.
“Dean!”I shriek his name just in time, and he twists to one side, catching sight of Winter. He rallies, grabbing his father and shoving him backwards, kicking the older man’s legs out from under him as he grabs the chalice out of Winter’s hands, throwing it to the floor.
“Winter, this is over,” he snarls. “We’re done. I’m not going to fuck you, I’m not going to marry you, and I’m—”
“Like hell you’re not!” she shrieks at him, throwing herself towards him, her nails clawed at his face. “You worthless piece of—”
It happens so fast that I hardly have time to register it. She leaps at him, intending to take him down to the floor, and Dean grabs her before he can, his hands on her waist as he throws her bodily to one side, flinging her across the room. She screams, a sound abruptly cut short as her body connects with one of the pillars, her head striking it with a sharp cracking sound that sends chills all the way to my bones.
We shouldn’t leave her there, I know that. But there’s no time. Dean’s father is up already, lunging for his son, and one of the Sons is going for Mia. I see a gun in Jaxon’s hand as he takes down the last of the three Sons fighting him, and then he spins as his father grabs his elbow, swinging at his son’s face as the two start to fight.
I slash at one of the Sons coming for me, but they’re starting to thin. For a moment, I almost think that we’re getting the upper hand, and then suddenly I feel hands on my waist, dragging me backwards.
One of those hands goes around my throat as the other slides over my stomach, the man holding me wrapping his arm around my waist as his fingers dig into my neck, cutting off my air so that I can’t scream. He drags me back into the shadows, and I realize dimly that the other hooded figures have fled in the chaos, leaving the room much emptier than it was before. Beyond me, I can see Jaxon and Dean struggling with their fathers, the remaining Sons throwing themselves into the fray, bodies on the stones. One of them is Winter’s, pale and nude against the stones, and deadly still, blood leaking from her face onto the floor.
The man holding me wrenches me around, throwing me against the wall, his hand tightening on my throat as he pushes me backwards. His face swims into view, and I realize with a cold, sickening sensation in my stomach that it’s Philip St. Vincent, his face twisted and sneering as he chokes me.
“You little bitch,” he hisses. “I did everything for you. I saved you and your worthless biker whore of a mother. I should have thrown you both to my dogs, instead of giving you a place to live. Instead of giving you mycharity.”
“You murdered her,” I whisper, choking the words out from around the pressure on my throat. “You fucking killed my mother—”
“I tried to killyou.” Philip smiles cruelly at me. “I had you abducted. I told my men they could do whatever they wanted to you, so long as you suffered. But like a fucking cockroach, you just wouldn’t die. And then you turned our boys against us.”
His hand slides off of my waist then, down to my hip, inside the waistband of the tight leggings I was wearing for the fight earlier. “So now, I’m going to find out what exactly is so good about you that you managed to seduce all three of our heirs into rebelling against their fathers, and their natural place in the world.” He licks his lips, the hand on my throat moving up to clutch at my chin, his thumb shoving its way between my lips. “I’ve never had pussy that good. But there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”
I feel my stomach twist, nausea rising up in my gut. But I force myself to stay still, to focus, because in his rush to drag me into the shadows and violate me, in his anger, Philip St. Vincent had forgotten two very important things.
