Chapter 640: You Complete and Utter Bastard
Chapter 640: You Complete and Utter Bastard
The elevator ride down from the observation deck felt like descending into a different world. One hundred and forty-six floors of silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery and the steady pulse of the pendant against my chest.
That went better than expected. Natalia’s voice drifted through our bond, laced with exhaustion and relief. You’re not dead. You’re not arrested. And apparently you’ve made an alliance with the most powerful woman in Valoria.
She’s going to use me.
Obviously. But you’re going to use her too. That’s how these things work. A pause. Come home, Satori. I need to see you. I need to touch you. I need to know you’re real and not some fever dream I’ve been having for the past six months.
The elevator doors opened onto the Apex Tower’s main lobby. Marble floors stretched in every direction, polished to a mirror shine that reflected the massive crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. Security personnel in crisp black uniforms stood at regular intervals, their eyes tracking me as I walked toward the exit.
My phone buzzed. Then again. Then a third time in rapid succession.
Reyna: How did it go? Veronica is threatening to send a helicopter.
Skylar: Still breathing?
Emi: Satori are you okay?? I saw the news about you and Reyna and I’m not mad but also I’m a little mad but mostly I’m worried please text back!!
I typed out quick reassurances as I pushed through the revolving doors and stepped into the cool night air. The city sprawled beneath me, a glittering tapestry of lights and shadows that stretched to the horizon. Somewhere out there, in the darkness beyond the streetlights and the neon signs, something ancient and incomprehensible was watching. Waiting. Planning.
And I had just agreed to help the woman who controlled this city find a way to fight it.
Nel. I reached out to the presence that lived in the back of my mind. What’s Apollo’s take on all this?
The response came with the familiar warmth of divine amusement. The God of Light finds your situation delightfully complex. He has increased your entertainment rating by twenty-three percent following tonight’s performance. Additionally, he wishes me to inform you that the betting pools have shifted significantly. The current odds favor you surviving the next six months at approximately forty-two percent.
That’s actually an improvement.
Indeed. Though Apollo notes that the introduction of a cosmic antagonist has generated considerable interest among the Audience. Several minor deities have placed substantial wagers on whether you will ultimately side with Seraphina Vance or attempt to carve your own path.
And what’s Apollo betting on?
A pause. Then, with something that sounded almost like affection: Apollo does not bet on protagonists he has personally invested in. He merely watches. And occasionally provides unsolicited romantic advice.
I flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the address of the airfield where Olympus Rising’s private jet waited. The ride took forty minutes through late-night traffic, and I spent every second of it staring out the window at a city that suddenly felt much smaller than it had that morning.
My father had discovered something that scared the people who controlled this world. Something connected to the entity that had caused the Rupture. Something worth killing to protect.
And now I was carrying his research in a folder pressed against my chest, a ticking time bomb wrapped in manila paper.
The jet was a sleek Gulfstream G700 painted in Olympus Rising’s gold and white livery. A flight attendant in a crisp uniform greeted me at the bottom of the stairs and led me to a plush leather seat near the front of the cabin. Champagne appeared without being requested. I ignored it.
Three hours later, as the first hints of dawn painted the eastern horizon pink and gold, the jet touched down at New Vein International. A car waited on the tarmac. Black. Unmarked. The kind of vehicle that screamed government or organized crime with equal conviction.
The rear door opened before I reached it.
Natalia sat in the back seat, her purple hair loose around her shoulders and her violet eyes burning with an intensity that made my breath catch. She wore a simple black dress that clung to every curve of her body, and her legs were bare, crossed at the knee in a way that drew the eye inevitably upward.
I slid into the seat beside her. The door closed. The car began to move.
Neither of us spoke.
The silence stretched for nearly a minute before Natalia reached over and grabbed my tie. She pulled me toward her with surprising strength, and then her lips were on mine, hungry and desperate and flavored with something that tasted like fear and relief and a possessiveness so fierce it bordered on violence.
When she finally pulled back, her lipstick was smeared across my mouth and her chest heaved with each breath.
"You absolute bastard," she whispered. "You complete and utter bastard."
"I missed you too."
"Three days." Her fingers tightened on my tie, pulling the knot uncomfortably tight against my throat. "Three days of feeling everything you did with her. Every kiss. Every touch. Every time she moaned your name like you were the only thing keeping her alive."
"Natalia—"
"And then you walked into a meeting with the woman who could have erased you from existence with a single phone call. Who could have shipped your body to a black site and made sure no one ever found even a trace of you." Her voice cracked. Just slightly. Just enough to show the fear beneath the anger. "I felt your terror, Satori. I felt how scared you were. And I couldn’t do anything. I just had to sit here and watch through the bond and hope that you would walk out of that building alive."
I reached up and gently pried her fingers from my tie. Then I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles, one by one.
"I’m here. I’m alive. And I’m not going anywhere."
"You better not be." She shifted closer, pressing her body against mine. The heat of her seeped through my shirt, through my jacket, through every layer of clothing between us. "Because if you die, I’m going to resurrect you and kill you again myself. I’ve been practicing ice spikes. I can aim for non-vital organs now."
"That’s oddly romantic."
"It’s a promise."