Paris strikes again, his face a mask of fury. “I know you’re fucking Helen!”
I get my baton up in time, and the knife slides along its edge. The guy isn’t going for first blood. He wants me dead. The feeling is entirely mutual. I stagger back another step, allowing him to think he’s got me on the ropes. “Did you send the assassin?”
He pauses. “What?”
His confusion seems genuine, but what do I know? I didn’t realize Paris was a potential threat until I saw him through Helen’s eyes. He could be lying. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. I would have enjoyed eliminating him personally even before I knew that he hurt her, scared her, made her doubt herself. Now, it’s personal.
I step to the side to avoid his next attack. He’s good, but he’s not better than I am. I whip out the baton, so fast it makes a whistling noise. Paris tries to dodge, but I catch the tip of the knife and send it spinning though the air away from us.
He flinches and backs away, his hands outstretched. “Achilles, wait.”
“You hurt her.” I attack again. Again, he barely avoids the strike. “She trusted you, and you hurt her.”
“I never touched her! She’s lying.” He scrambles away, barely staying ahead of me. “It’s all bullshit.”
His ankle rolls and I’m on him, shoving him off his feet and into the sand. “The baton isn’t the best option to draw blood.” I kick him, flipping him onto his back. “Guess I’ll have to hit you a few times to make sure you’re eliminated.”
“Achilles!”
I lift the baton over my head. “Stop talking, Paris. You’re just going to make me angrier.”
“Patroclus!” He points a shaking finger behind me.
I know better. Truly, I do. But I still twist to look behind me.
I find Patroclus instantly. I’m sure I’ll always find him, regardless of how many people stand between us. In an arena of only five, there’s nothing to distract from the scene playing out before me.
The Minotaur stalks him across the sand, light on his feet despite his big body. Patroclus has found a small knife somewhere, but it looks like a toy in his hand. The Minotaur has a fucking sword. It’s one of the big ones, big enough that he has to hold it with two hands. Big enough to cut Patroclus in fucking half. I glance up at Athena, but she hasn’t moved from the spot where she stood when she announced the start of the trial. There’s going to be no last-minute save for any of us.
Patroclus could take the Minotaur in a fair fight. Probably. But right now, when he’s favoring his ankle and has bruised ribs limiting his range of motion? It’s going to be a fucking bloodbath. The way the Minotaur swings that sword, he doesn’t care if he removes limbs to get to Patroclus’s blood.
He’ll kill him.
Even as the thought crosses my mind, Helen appears like an avenging goddess behind the Minotaur. She raises a pair of daggers and holds his death in her gorgeous face. Our woman doesn’t hesitate, striking at his exposed back.
The Minotaur must sense her, because he spins easily out of the way and cuts back at her with a stroke that would take her head if it landed. She ducks easily beneath it, but that doesn’t stop my lungs from turning to stone in my chest. Both of them. Both of them are in fucking danger, and they’re outmatched.
If the Minotaur lands a blow…
Even as the thought crosses my mind, I’m moving, leaving Paris behind and heading for them. I don’t give a fuck if the rules don’t encourage murder. Someone tried to kill Helen in the house, and Patroclus is injured right now. The way the Minotaur swings that sword has every alarm bell in my head blaring. He’s swiping it at them like he wants to hurt them. Helen is fierce and quick on her feet, but she’s too small. She can’t take even one hit from that thing. She’ll lose a limb, and that’s the best-case scenario.
And Patroclus? He’ll sacrifice himself for her, the fool. I already know it.
I pick up my pace, the sand churning beneath my feet as I pelt across the space. If I can just get there, I can stop him. I’m better than this fucker. I know I am.
Helen shifts her grip on the knife like she might throw it but seems to think better of it. Good girl. Never toss a weapon that’s still useful. I should have told her that. Fuck, I should have told her a lot of things.
I’m too fucking far away. I’ll never make it in time.
The Minotaur picks up momentum, spinning the sword with a comfort that seems like he’s done it before. Helen and Patroclus circle him, but they’re too aware of each other, too determined to save each other. It’s a glaring fault line to exploit, and the Minotaur is smart enough to do exactly that.