Page 75 of Hercules

“Hey. It’s okay. Just go on when you can.”

Lois inhaled against her own unsteady air, fighting the urge to yell that they actually didn’t have time for things like when you can, but Wen stepped out of the god’s hold with a resolved nod.

“Everyone in the business was struggling to figure it out,” she stated. “The initial story being floated was that some flashy whackjob had simply snowed over a pair of drunk aniki during a high stakes poker all-nighter. But then those guys offered an outrageous ransom for the string and Byrd’s head, dead or alive. A week later, they jacked it up with some very sweet perks. After that, there was a line out the door for the gig. But not so much anymore.”

“Wait.”

The word tumbled from Lois before she realized the life it’d gained of its own. But when fire was scorching up one’s throat just like the sudden blazes in their brain, it was too late to call Smokey the freaking Bear.

It was too damn late to stop a lot of things.

Like more words that spilled out, as relentless as the fresh whine in her senses—and the gory desperation in her gut.

“You said Reks used the string as a poker buy-in? To stake his bets with who?”

In a way that only the headhunter seemed to understand—perhaps it was the shared gender, or mortality, or whatever—Wen turned to let Lo see her full expression of compassion. A stare that brought about three seconds of comfort—until the woman nervously wetted her lips.

“Well, it’s all still conjecture. Something everyone’s supposing—”

“But you said aniki.”

“Yeah.” The puzzlement beneath the word etched new confusion in the woman’s glance. “But that’s the part we are pretty sure about…”

“And exactly what I’m afraid of.”

She was shocked when all seven words emerged without falters. But her fingers, balling at her sides, were coils of dreading pain. Though her declaration had Apollo and Wen seemingly too confused to care, Herc wasn’t so out of it. He was practically her shadow as she left the planter’s shelter to pace in a kidney-shaped loop, over and over, as thoughts piled on top of each other in her mind. Rapidly, the stack’s weight doubled. Tripled. It collapsed into her chest, where everything was too ponderous as it was.

“Hey. What is it?” came Herc’s urgent murmur at the outskirts of her awareness. “Lois. Yamaneko. Talk to me.”

It was the worst moment to refer to her with that name, but he had no way of knowing that. He couldn’t possibly know that she could barely breathe, let alone summon the oxygen for merciful thought.

Because nothing about her past was merciful.

A past that showed every sign of becoming her present again.

She prayed the message would penetrate Herc as she swung her terrified sights back up to him. After a long second, words finally sprang to her trembling lips.

“Aniki. It means a lot of things…but has specific meaning in the world of the yakuza. And if Rizon is running from gambling debts with a bunch of them…”

The rest of it was there in her mind, but fear was a harsh fist in her throat. Thankfully, Herc had read between all her lines, enough to take over the terrible words.

“Then there’s a good chance that they also know Natasha’s current travel plans too.”

CHAPTER 21

Her eyes had begged him to say it as thoroughly as her energy stabbed him for it.

But if anyone understood the feeling, it was Herc.

Still he fought back—against her anguish and her anger—needing her to know exactly that. Pushing out his compassion as hard as possible, even as she clearly waged another battle from the conflict.

The clash with herself.

A huge part of her that clearly refused to believe his theory. Perhaps another part that was terrified if she didn’t.

He identified with all of that too. More than he’d permitted himself to ever realize—until the crucible of this moment.

Because if she wanted to turn around right now, leaving Natasha to whatever fate the mobsters had in store, he was right there with her. He’d follow her straight down to hell. Far beyond that. Back to her own crazy and noisy realm, if that’s what she wanted.