out of whack, but I was pretty sure it had been at least a couple of minutes since Anderson had been shot. If I could keep father and son talking long enough for him to come back to life . . .
“I thought you were enjoying your Blake substitute,” I said, trying to sneer. I think it came out more like a grimace of pain, but Cyrus was appropriately needled anyway.
“Why settle for a substitute when I can have the real thing? Blake never belonged with you people anyway. He really wants to be one of the good guys, but it just doesn’t suit him.”
“And you think taking out Anderson and letting your daddy kill the rest of us is going to send Blake running into your arms?” It was a little easier to muster a real sneer this time. I hadn’t thought much of Blake when I’d first met him, and I still didn’t think a whole lot of him dating my sister. But I did think he was basically a good guy, with a good heart. It was hard to imagine what he’d ever seen in Cyrus—at least, it was hard for me to imagine it now, when Cyrus was flaunting his true nature—but I didn’t for a moment believe Blake would forgive and forget.
Cyrus shrugged. “If his choices are run into my arms or die, he’ll run into my arms.” One corner of his mouth tipped up in a fond smile. “He’s a survivor.” The smile faded quickly, and Cyrus’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll save as many of your people as I can, Nikki. I’m not doing this because I want anyone to get hurt.”
Words couldn’t describe how much he disgusted me in that moment. I felt a chill of fear as I thought about what would happen to the rest of Anderson’s Liberi if Anderson were no longer around to protect them. Leo, Maggie, and Blake might be able to become Olympians, if they could stomach it. They were all descended from Greek gods, which was the primary membership requirement for the Olympians. But Jack, and Logan, and Jamaal . . .
And let’s not even talk about what would happen to me. I might not be Olympian material despite my ancestry, but I was a rare and useful tool, and I held no illusions that there would be a quick and easy death in my future.
But of course, nothing was going to happen to Anderson. He was a freaking god, and he was going to come back to life any second now. Once he did—
Another gunshot rang out. Cyrus flinched and ducked, his hands going up to his ears. He quickly lowered them again and glared over his shoulder at Konstantin.
“Some warning would be nice next time,” he shouted. At least, I was pretty sure he was shouting, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hear him over the renewed ringing in my ears. If I were an ordinary mortal, I’d be seriously worried about permanent hearing damage.
Of course, the ringing ears weren’t the worst of my problems. Konstantin had just shot Anderson a second time, which meant any healing progress was back to square one. Killing Anderson every few minutes was a surefire way to keep him out of the picture, though obviously Konstantin had something else in mind. The yawning hole in the floor suggested that some kind of burial was forthcoming. Anderson had dismissed potential burial as a threat—maybe he could move through the earth as easily as he could move through walls—but I wasn’t exactly eager to put it to the test.
“If you don’t like it, hurry up and finish your touching good-bye before I have to do it again,” Konstantin replied.
“It’s not really a good-bye,” Cyrus hastened to reassure me. “You don’t have to take my word for it, even. You know you’re too valuable to kill.”
“Actually, that doesn’t make me feel any better,” I said between clenched teeth.
“If you can find it in yourself to cooperate, things will go much easier for you.”
My rib was still hurting like hell, but I managed to suck in a deep breath of indignation anyway. “You advising me to lie back and think of England?” I growled at him.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It’s the best advice I can give under the circumstances.”
“As if I would ever take advice from you,” I replied in disgust, hating myself for letting his charming smile lull me for even a moment. “You’re nothing but