take this next step without you. Go home, Maisey.”
As if our entire time together were a dream, he faded out of existence. Leaving me … alone.
“Nooo!” I wailed, unable to keep the anger and rage and desperation at bay. It had been knocking against my chest this entire time, and now, in my grief, I had no choice but to let it free. Black magic burst from my mouth, my eyes, my fingertips. It. Was. Everywhere. It spun in a tornado above my body, as if asking me where I wanted it to go.
Cronus.
He left me.
Alone.
To die with these fucking sins inside of me.
Complete and utter desolation rocked through me. The tornado above me turned into the shape of a spear and slammed right into my chest. I blacked out again, welcoming the darkness.
Stay Tuned! Wrath of the Gods is on presale now. Read below for Chapter One in Book Two of the Titan’s Saga. Preorder here: smarturl.it/WrathOfTheGods
Wrath of the Gods
Titan’s Saga Book Two
I stared at the picture of Cronus and me on my insta wall. The one shred of proof I had that he was real, that everything we’d gone through was real. All I had left was this picture with 100K likes and the necklace around my throat.
As I’d always wished for, the post had gone viral and I’d amassed 50K followers. Was it everything I’d thought it would be? #Nope
But since my life was a damned mess, I was trying my best to live normally, and had started putting out daily content but people were asking...
#WhereIsTheGreekGod #ShowUsTheFutureBabyDaddy
Every single hashtag ripped my heart out and reminded me that I was currently living some fucked up life on borrowed time. Cronus had taken off three weeks ago, and I’d heard from no one since. I mean, how the hell were they even fighting against the sins without the necklace, without me? Where were they putting them?
“Maisey!” Bobby shouted my name and I snapped out of it. “Order up on table five.”
Despite my fifty or so thousand followers, I did not have a single sponsorship, so it was still #CrabShackLife.
I grabbed the order and weaved through the tables to set it down at table five. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Ranch dressing,” the middle aged woman requested.
Why was it always ranch dressing? Maybe if I’d invented ranch, I would be on a yacht somewhere and not here.
Here. Screw Cronus for giving me a glimpse of a life beyond mine, for a glimpse of love, and then tearing it from me. He’d destroyed our bond and left me broken and alone on the floor of a dressing room in Vegas. I’d barely been able to control the darkness that seeped out of me in my despair at the loss of our bond. I felt empty ... broken.
At least I knew the truth now: the bastard only kept me close because of the bond. If he could just leave me there like that, he didn’t fucking care about me.
He’d be back though, or at least one of them would be. I still wore three of the sins around my neck.
Knowing they were all out there saving the world without me. #NotFuckingCool
“Maisey, you’re cut!” my manager called out.
With a heavy heart, I deposited the ranch dressing at table five and clocked out.
“You going out tonight?” Shauna asked, sashaying her way past me with a loaded tray. Girl had biceps to die for and I was never surprised she got the big tips. She moved fast and efficient.
“Uh, no. Probably not,” I said with a huff, untying my apron. “Not really feeling it.”
She didn’t respond to me immediately because she was busy corralling customers into some sort of order as she passed out meals and drinks. Yet, somehow she got back in time to grab me and stop me from walking out the door.
“Come on, Mais,” she said, some annoyance creeping in her tone. “You disappear for weeks, you come back looking like death, and you’ve been a zombie ever since. I’m not taking no for an answer tonight. We’re going back to the beach, and you can stare at the spot you met your Greek hottie, and remember how awesome it was to be swept around the world on a romantic trip.”
I gulped, heat burning in my cheeks and behind my eyes. My throat was sore, and that made my voice extra raspy. “I’m just--”
“I’ll be at yours at 8 P.M,” she cut me off. “Be dressed, or I’ll dress you myself.”
I blinked