Page 158 of Blood of Olympus

Save her. Save her. Save her.

The fact that I could no longer feel her pain did little to reassure me. In fact, it only added to my relentless drive to reach her, if only so I could see for myself the extent of the damage done, and how exactly to repay it tenfold to her assailant.

Even if it was a fool’s errand.

And so, when I rounded that last corner and found the goddess who made my heart skip a beat, the sight of her held captive on the ground by a being I had only heard stories about, stopped its beating altogether. I lost all coherent thought and melded into one ugly thing: blind rage.

Hyperion straddled her hips, leaning over her in the most damning of positions, and my lightning rushed to the surface, assuming the worst. Pain danced across my skin as minute bolts of electricity feathered over it.

Aros’ wordless bellow behind me indicated his mind followed the same path. Together we dove at the Titan, and with the advantage of surprise combined with our joint strength, tore him off of her.

Fire and lightning attacked in tandem, writhing together, thoroughly enjoying their shared work.

Hyperion put up no fight. He seemed infuriatingly content to lay sprawled in the ash-covered dirt. Cackling. His laugh grew louder, madder, with every passing second, as we stood over him, bewildered. He laughed so hard he had to wipe at his eyes; laughed so heartily, his voice broke and it ended in a fit of barked coughs.

“Youre — too — late,” he managed to bite out between hacks. “Time is on our side. Time is our side.”

Aros and I exchanged a loaded look.

“What do we do with him?” he asked.

I shrugged, perplexed. “We have no cuffs. Leave him there for a minute — but watch him.” I growled, knowing that if Hyperion was going to act, even Aros at his best would not be enough to restrain him.

I dropped to the ground in front of Nyssa, who was whimpering in the arms of Athena with Evie standing guard over both of them. She mumbled incoherent sounds that were an attempt at words but neither the goddesses nor I could make any sense of them.

I held my arms out and she deposited Nyssa into them gently. My heart sank at the feeling of her violent trembles. This strong, brave woman had been tortured beyond her limits — beyond the scope of any imaginable, bearable pain — and yet, I could detect no wounds on her body.

What has he done to her?

“Aros? Castrate him, would you?” I growled, more beast than man.

“What—” Hyperion jerked. His sentence cut off abruptly with an agonised howl, half the tenor of my own when I felt a mere echo of Nyssa’s earlier pain.

“Gladly,” Aros smirked, wiping his dagger on the Titan’s own periskelis.

“Nyssa?” I dared whisper into her ear.

She jerked back, squeezing her eyes shut, then froze. She inhaled tentatively.

Do I stink? I bet I reek.

You do, Lykos murmured from somewhere nearby.

Hush, you old goat.

I’ll—

Shhh.

A faint growl was all the response he gave.

Nyssa leaned in, sniffed daintily again, her nose creasing in the most adorable way. “Caelus?” she asked, barely audible past the cracks in her voice. Every snag sent another dagger through my heart.

“What did he do to you, Nightshade?”

She shook her head increasingly emphatic.

A gentle hand gripped my shoulder. Athena. “Let’s⁠—”