The afternoon sun painted the sky with streaks of orange and gold as we lined up on the edge of the field. For once, it wasn’t training. No drills, no lectures. Just a game—capture the flag, guardian-approved.

  Two teams. Two flags. One goal: get the enemy’s flag and bring it back to base. Powers allowed. No holding back.

  I was twelve, old enough to take it seriously. Maybe too seriously.

  Helena stood beside me, arms crossed, her wildflower energy already focused. Leander strung his bow with calm precision, and Xandor adjusted his stance, eyes already scanning the other side of the field. Damian bounced on his toes, ready for chaos. And little Zoe—only eight—flapped her wings once, already glowing with excitement.

  Our team.

  Across the field stood the others—Hector, tall and solid like a wall. Ella with her calm confidence. Stephen’s hands already glimmered with heat, and Bay twisted her hair into a ponytail like it meant business. Angelina and Phoenix, youngest but sharp-eyed, waited with eager grins.

  They’d built makeshift bases out of wood and tarps on either end of the field. The flags—torn bits of blue and red fabric—fluttered in the breeze.

  I crouched in the dirt and started drawing a quick map. “Helena, hang back and defend. Zoe, you’re fast—we’ll use that. Damian, go wild. Xandor, flank left. Leander, cover us with arrows. I’ll take center.”

  Damian smirked. “You sound like we’re storming a castle.”

  “We are,” I muttered. “Let’s win.”

  The whistle blew.

  Everyone scattered.

  I bolted forward, staying low, weaving through the tall grass. My eyes moved faster than my legs—scanning, recalculating. Stephen had fire in his palms. Bay was flanking wide. Ella was staying close to Hector—probably the defense anchor.

  Leander’s arrows whistled overhead, keeping Stephen ducked behind a log. Xandor disappeared into the tree line. Damian let out a war cry and launched himself at Ella, who shrieked with laughter as she dodged.

  I saw the flag.

  Bright red. Right there.

  I felt it—a jolt in my chest. That tug in my gut. Victory was close. I could taste it, already plotting the angles, the timing, the number of steps it would take me to get in and get out.

  But then I caught a glimpse of Zoe pinned behind a tree, Hector stomping closer, flames licking the air from Stephen’s hands.

  I cursed under my breath and veered off.

  “Leander! Cover!”

  An arrow hit the dirt in front of Hector, making him stumble. I lunged, yanked Zoe out of the way, and shoved her toward base. “Go!”

  She took off, wings flaring behind her.

  We regrouped in the tall grass.

  “Change of plan,” I gasped. “Damian, Xandor—cut right. Zoe and I will flank left. Leander, keep the pressure on.”

  They didn’t argue.

  Every step we took, I was recalculating. Every move the other team made, I was anticipating. We didn’t just have to win—we had to win smart.

  In the final sprint, I saw Hector charging straight for me, his eyes locked on mine, a wall of determination and muscle. I knew I wouldn’t outrun him—not with the flag in hand. But I also knew he’d never hurt Zoe. Not on purpose. Not ever.

  So I passed her the flag, trusting her speed, her wings, and the plan we’d made. She caught it without missing a beat, soaring low over the ground and diving across the base line, landing in a tumble of wings and laughter.

  Victory.

  We collapsed in a heap near the base, sweat-slicked and grinning. Even Helena cracked a smile. Xandor dropped beside me and clapped a hand to my shoulder.

  “Told you,” he said, panting. “It’s more fun when we win together.”

  I let myself laugh, just a little. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

  I had just stepped out of the bathroom, still toweling off my hair, when Damian barreled past me with a shout of “Finally!” and slammed the door shut behind him. I blinked, startled, and then turned to find Peter waiting in the hallway.

  He didn’t say anything right away. Just that focused, calculating look he always wore when he was piecing something together. I paused, my heart still a little softer from the night before, from the quiet way Xandor had held my hand under the stars.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, voice low.

  Peter glanced toward the others—Bay was brushing her hair in the mirror, Phoenix rummaged through the room for clean socks. Xandor stood silently against the wall, already dressed and ready for the day. His eyes were distant, like he was caught in the middle of some deep thought he hadn’t decided whether to share yet.

  “I was thinking,” Peter said, voice barely above a whisper. “You might be able to reach Helena and Hector. Like the way you contacted Xandor and Bay when you were first getting us all together.”

  At the sound of his name, Xandor’s focus broke. He turned his head, eyes locking on us with quiet curiosity, like he’d just stepped back into the moment.

  Peter continued, “Could you talk to them, figure out where they are, and what Cole has done to them?”

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  I blinked. That thought hadn’t even occurred to me—and I didn’t know why. Maybe I’d been too focused on the chaos, the fear, the running. Or maybe part of me hadn’t wanted to know what was happening to them.

  But now that Peter had said it, I couldn’t shake it.

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I can try. But… I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

  Peter raised an eyebrow.

  “I saw Angelina’s mind,” I said softly. “It was tangled, twisted—like something had sunk its claws into her thoughts. If Helena’s and Hector’s minds are like that too… I might not be able to get much.”

  He nodded once and stepped aside as I passed. I dropped onto the chair near the window. The morning light pushed through the thin motel curtains, soft but insistent. Xandor stood by the wall, arms crossed, watching me with that same curious calm he always wore—like he was reading a story only he could see.

  Peter took the chair across from me. “Take your time,” he said. But I could feel the urgency beneath his words.

  I closed my eyes, let out a slow breath, and reached into the threads of my mind, searching for the ones tied to my captured friends.

  I closed my eyes and opened my mind, reaching for the thread that tied me to Hector. Helena had likely been unconscious when they were moved—if there were answers, he’d have them.

  I focused on him, on memories of his quiet strength, of the way he always stood at the front during training, shield up, like he could hold back the world.

  The connection snapped into place.

  I slipped into his mind.

  He recoiled when I appeared—just for a second—but then recognition flickered in his eyes, and he steadied. He was sitting in a stone room without windows. The walls were damp and close, the air heavy. Both he and Helena were tied to chairs, their backs pressed together, arms bound, legs secured.

  And standing in front of them, calm and watching, was Cole.

  Rage burned in my chest the moment I saw him. Just the sight of him—so composed, so in control—made my stomach twist. He was the reason we were broken. The reason Helena and Hector bound. He had taken our family and twisted it into something unrecognizable. I wanted to make him feel even a fraction of what he’d done to us.

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus back on Hector. His gaze was locked on me, filled with fury—not at me, but at Cole. That same heat churned behind his eyes, and I felt my connection wavering, thin and flickering like a candle in the wind. Was it his anger? Or something Cole had done to him?

  “Breathe,” I whispered. “Don’t speak. He can’t see me. He can’t hear me. But he’ll hear you.”

  Hector gave me a small, tight nod. The edge in his eyes dulled just enough for me to anchor my grip in his mind, to hold on.

  I panicked. I needed to know where they were. But he couldn’t speak—not without alerting Cole.

  Then Helena flinched.

  The ropes creaked as she jerked against them, and I saw Cole shift his focus toward her. He stepped forward and reached out. Hector’s jaw clenched, his entire body tensing like he was fighting every instinct to break free.

  Cole placed his hands on either side of Helena’s head and closed his eyes.

  I recoiled.

  It was like watching something vile slither into her mind. The way his fingers rested so gently made it even worse—like this was something normal, like he believed what he was doing was helpful.

  But it wasn’t. It was control. It was poison disguised as kindness.

  My stomach turned, and the fury in me burned brighter than ever before.

  Angelina walked in, her steps sharp and deliberate. Cole removed his hands from Helena’s head without urgency, as if he hadn’t just been violating her mind. My whole body tensed, fury choking me as I watched him turn toward Angelina.

  “They’re getting closer,” she said. “Some of the monsters are near the six.”

  Panic surged through me, a spike of fear that made my pulse race. I had to move fast. I needed to know where they were. I had to get back to my friends before it was too late.

  Cole flashed a wicked smile, all teeth and shadow. Then he turned and followed Angelina out of the room, leaving silence in his wake.

  I snapped my attention back to Hector. “Where are you?” I asked urgently.

  He gritted his teeth. “I don’t know exactly. But I heard him say… once he has all twelve of us under his influence, he’ll open the gates to Olympus.”

  “Where?”

  “Olympic National Park.”

  Helena stirred again, her voice soft and slurred, like someone surfacing from a deep, uneasy sleep. “Hector? Who are you talking to?”

  The sound of her voice cracked something inside me. It was dazed, disoriented—but it was her. My Helena. Awake, if only barely. I wanted to call out to her, to tell her to hang on, that we were coming. But I couldn’t—she can’t see or hear me.

  Hector didn’t answer her. Neither did I. He’d explain later—if we could get them out of this.

  “What’s he doing to you?” I asked. “How is he controlling the others? If I understand it, maybe I can undo it.”

  Hector’s jaw tightened. “He’s rewriting us. Manipulating our memories—changing the way we remember everything. The gods. Our lives. Making us believe that Zeus will kill us. That we’re better off with Cole.”

  I swallowed hard, heart aching. I took it all in, held it tight, tried to keep my focus steady.

  But then the door creaked open again.

  Cole.

  This time, he was looking at Hector.

  “No,” I whispered. “I can’t be here if he touches you. He’ll feel my presence.”

  I met Hector’s eyes one last time. “We’ll get you out. All of you. I promise.”

  Then I yanked myself out of his mind and came crashing back into my own.

  I opened my eyes, heart still pounding, breath shaky. Peter was staring straight at me, exactly where I’d left him. Xandor was beside me now, his brow furrowed, worry etched into every line of his face.

  Peter leaned in, voice low but urgent. “What did you find out?”

  I shot to my feet, all the adrenaline and fear from Hector’s mind still coursing through me. I looked around at the others—Bay, Phoenix, Damian, all halfway through their morning routines.

  “We need to move,” I said, louder than I intended. “Now. There are monsters closing in.”

  They all froze.

  “I’ll explain on the road,” I added, already grabbing my shoes. “But we can’t stay here.”

  They quickly grabbed all their things and piled into the truck. There weren’t enough seats inside, so Xandor and I climbed into the bed, the wind already tugging at my hair as we pulled away from the motel. I needed the open sky, to feel the wind on my face. I needed air in my lungs after what I’d just seen.

  Once we were on the road, I told them what I learned from Hector. The weight of it hung in the silence afterward—Olympic National Park. All twelve of us. Cole’s plan. It was too much.

  Damian drove, his grip on the wheel tight, knuckles white. I told him to head northwest toward Washington.

  I glanced toward Xandor, and the sight of him struck me like a lightning bolt. His jaw was tight, his hand gripping the side of the truck bed so hard his knuckles had gone white. He wasn’t just worried—he was seething. When our eyes met, I saw it there, clear as the stars in his eyes: fury. Not the kind that explodes outward, but the kind that burns quiet and steady, like coals waiting for the right breath of air.

  He didn’t say anything, but I didn’t need him to. Every line in his face, every shadow in his eyes, echoed the rage I felt in my own bones. He was angry—for Helena. For Hector. For all of us. And the fact that he cared that deeply made something sharp and aching inside me loosen, just a little. I wasn’t alone in this. Not really. Not with him here.

  But I didn’t stop thinking.

  My mind wouldn’t let me rest. Not with the image of Helena flinching under Cole’s touch or Hector gritting his teeth as he tried to help me without saying a word.

  Anger bloomed in my chest, fierce and wild. I hated him. I hated what Cole had done. To them. To all of us. He didn’t just want power—he wanted to own us. To twist our minds into believing he was the only way forward.

  And the worst part? It was working.

  I stared out over the passing trees and empty road, the wind stinging my eyes. My friends—my family—were prisoners in their own minds. I wanted to rip Cole’s influence out of them, strand by strand. But how?

  I’d never tried to see my friends’ memories before, never tried to manipulate anything in their minds. That wasn’t what I did. I was a messenger, a connector, a scout—not some mental warrior. What if I tried and only made it worse?

  But if I didn’t try, who else could? Who else would?

  I clenched my fists. No matter how tangled the threads were, no matter how deep Cole had wormed into their heads—I would find a way to undo it.

  I had to. Because if I didn’t… we might lose them forever.