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“What truth?”

“That you killed most of the Lyra. Your first missions for me after the accident. After your surgery and programming. Who do you think I used to track down Dom’s contracts? The authorities arrested or killed the lesser members. Onlyyouwere capable of taking out the most deadly and elusive of your clan.”

I want to vomit. I want to die.

Denial whips my head back and forth. But it’s right there. In the middle of that gaping hole in my past. Glossed over and forgotten, blended into the blackness there. Willfully buried.

I fought so hard to reach the bottom of that abyss. All the while, ignoring the beginning of this nightmare. What started it all. That day on the rooftop.

The day I gave up control.

“Wallow all you like on your own time, dear. Although, I suppose you do not have much of that left. I have one final task for the two of you.” She glances at each of us. Smiling mildly.

Ero’s eyes narrow.

Mine go wide.

“I’d like the two of you to kill each other. In fact, I insist.”

28

ERO

My body moves against my will.

When I try to exert control, it’s like trying to hold on to a greased pole. I keep losing my grip.

I’m rushing towards Circe, my muscles locked and ready to strike.

She matches me, anger and distress in her eyes. Neither of us want this. Neither of us can resist.

A glint of metal tells me there’s a blade in her hand, the cold sensation in my palm tells me I drew mine as well. I don’t remember drawing it.

Sparks fly as our blades collide, each motion intent on a killing blow. Fortunately, we’re more than a match for one another.

Steel sings in the sunset.

Our blades lock together for a moment. With every ounce of will, I try to force mine away. Circe wails through her teeth, trying just as hard.

At the same instant, we jerk back and I feel a sting, a score of pain along my rib cage. Glancing down, I manage to get a look at the wound. Blood seeps into my shirt. I cut myself.

A fleeting second of clarity breaks through the shroud of Ananke’s control, but Circe’s pressing the attack, striking again. My momentary focus shatters.

Jab. Slice. Duck. Leap. Circe’s foot swings towards my face. I backpedal, drop to a crouch, swipe kick. Her boot swings out from under her.

A midair backflip saves her, continuing into a back handspring and away. Barely avoiding my deadly lunge by an inch.

Hot damn, she’s quick.

On my backswing, she catches my blade again with hers. I misstep, pain shooting up my ankle. It’s enough to let me redirect my slash again. It nicks my hand, drawing blood.

I back off, circling.

It’s right about then that I notice she’s done the same. A slice on her cheek, a cut on her forearm, both inflicted by her own dagger.

“Fight it, Ero,” she grits out.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I snarl, and I see that wry look in her eyes.