Page 56 of Hell’s Weapon

I’d basically thrown a hissy fit. Making demands and throwing insults until he’d dragged me off.

It had been a great surprise to find my tactical gear in his office, which is where he really took me, instead of the cells.

“You could let me out now surely? It’s been a few hours.”

“Nah. Don’t want the others to think I’m going soft on you.” His tone gives him away though.

“Are you? Going soft on me?” I can’t resist pushing.

He seems to realise his words and practically growls at me. “You’re spending the night in the cells. So no, Goddess. I’m not going soft on you.”

Him calling me a goddess breaks my thoughts just a little. I have no idea what kind of relationship seems to be building between us. Most of the time it seems competitive, toxically so. Other times our fighting feels kind of like a prelude to something else. And that endearment he just called me definitely sings to that part of me.

I rake my eyes over the prickly panther. If he fucks as wildly as he verbally spars, I know I’ll be able to feel him on my skin for days. And that thought alone has me dampening in my panties.

Thankful that I’m wearing leather trousers, and not a dress, where he’d most likely be able to scent my growing arousal. I shift past his bulky form and head for the door.

“Come on then,” I say on a heavy exhale. “If I’m in for a shit night sleep we may as well get on with it.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend will come to your rescue before the sun's up,” he bites back.

My hand, which had been about to pull the door open, freezes. Whipping my head back round I glare at the head of Hades’s prison. “What?”

“The blonde buffoon. The one that doesn’t seem to know what a locked door is.”

Wyatt. He’s referring to Wyatt.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s human.” I throw his species out there as a barrier.

“You certainly seem to be getting cosier with him.” The fact Garrick has noticed sets my teeth on edge, and my tail flicks in annoyance.

“Not at all, I’m here to do a job. I need the humans to trust me if I’m going to figure out who wants to blow this whole thing to Heaven.”

“Is he your main suspect then?”

“No…” I go to defend Wyatt but then I really think about it. “Wait, do you think it could be him? He’s a trained assassin, one of the top killers–at least by human standards–and he does seem to know how to get in and out of anywhere on the compound.”

Motherfucker. Have I missed all the signs? Has Wyatt’s incessant flirting and over-exuberant happiness fooled me?

“He is on my short list.” Garrick’s words deliver like a blow. Not that I should care. I may have slept with him twice now, but I’ve been doing good at keeping my distance these last few days. Still, my gut doesn’t want to believe that he would be the one killing the contestants. Even though he seems to have little control over his mouth and has the energy of Hades’s and Khaos’s hellhounds, a feeling gnaws at me that Wyatt’s killing side isn’t this.

But then I’ve never seen him in any kind of fight. I’ve only seen his skills on paper. Maybe the next game will show me a different side of him.

“He’s on mine now too,” I admit, not trusting my instincts for the first time in centuries.

After our conversation about Wyatt, we leave the dormitories. Walking back outside and feeling the muggy evening air does nothing to order the muddled thoughts now raging around my head.

Seeing Wyatt, although briefly as we stalk past the group of contestants and guards on the way to the Officers’ building, also does nothing to ease my mixed feelings over the human.

He was standing with Milo and Seffy this time. I’d wanted to march straight over and punch his face in. Or grab him by the gym clothes he was wearing and simply take off. Maybe putting two hundred feet between him and the ground would allow me to question him and get some truthful answers.

I’d also chanced a glance at Milo, just to make sure he was okay. I could tell he was getting stressed when I kicked off earlier and looked positively stricken as I was being pulled away by Garrick. He seemed calmer now, thankfully. Although, I now had reservations about the fact it was Wyatt there to protect him.

We arrive at Garrick’s office in silence, and don’t talk for a couple of minutes after either. The Head Officer moves about his desk, pulls out a phone and leaves. The only words he mutters are for me to stay put.

I remove my hood and mask before making myself comfortable in one of the chairs, putting my feet up on the wooden surface of the desk and leaning my head back, closing my eyes.

When did this start to get complicated?