Page 24 of Crown of Serpents (Curse of Olympus #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Medusa was drowning. She had not been able to take a deep breath before the waves of the Aegean Sea had crashed over her head. Her terrified scream, cutting through the raging wind like a knife, had prevented that. There was no point in struggling now. The weight of her chains dragged her to the bottom of the sea. She would decay in the black depths — alone and forgotten. That would be the best-case scenario. Medusa would embrace the darkness when the fates finally cut her thread of life, and death claimed her. It was not that she wanted to die, but it was better than the alternative. Even the eternal torments of Tartarus, which probably awaited her, could not compare to the misery awaiting her at the bottom of the ocean — if he found her.

Medusa frantically looked around her, but she could not make out any circling shadows in the pitch-black water. Fear began to spread in her gut. How long until Poseidon would realise she was drifting helplessly in his waters? Would he send one of his creatures to claim her? She could almost feel a sea wraith’s spindly hand close around her ankle to return Medusa to her master’s watery court. Sea wraiths were among the most wicked courtiers in Poseidon’s realm. Their undying loyalty and delight in drowning mortals secured them their spot in the ranks of Poseidon’s guards.

Medusa began thrashing, trying to swim despite the shackles. She would never — could never — become his prisoner, mistress, plaything. She would rather be gutted by one of the savage men who had imprisoned her for these past weeks. Her limbs grew weak, and the icy water numbed her senses, but she would not stop moving.

Phantom hands burned her skin. She could still feel where he had touched her. His handprints lingered on her wrists, her throat, and her thighs. Even after all these years, her skin still seemed to be scorched where he had gripped her to spread her legs for him.

With renewed vigour, Medusa fought to get just an inch closer to the surface, but the chains continued to drag her down. She kicked with her legs even as her lungs burned like they had been set ablaze.Soon, she would pass out. Her muscles buckled against the strain, but for now, Medusa kept swimming against the relentless current.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the gloomy water around her. Medusa opened her mouth in shock, swallowing seawater. She choked, saltwater burning her throat as her vision narrowed to a tunnel of fading light. The raging thunderstorm above cast an eerie, silvery glow upon the water, illuminating the dark shadow that plunged toward her like a predator. Poseidon.

She attempted to fight, to swim away, but her muscles seized.

Black spots dimmed her vision, and a silent sob escaped her lips as her lungs filled with more water.

Still, the shadow raced toward her. Still, she was unable to move.

This is it, she thought, her consciousness flickering. The end.

But the shadow was faster than death. Mere meters away, it reached for her with a long, powerful arm. Medusa’s eyes widened one last time, a kaleidoscope of fear and despair before a strong hand clamped around her limp wrist. The world went dark as she was yanked upwards, away from the suffocating embrace of the sea.