Page 1 of Thorns of Desire

PROLOGUE

ATHENA

Twelve Years Old

Iopened my mouth and screamed. I didn’t stop until my lungs burned. Until my voice cracked and my ears rang.

My raw screams must have angered the gods because a flash of lightning cracked across the sky—furious and blinding—and the earth shook. The breeze swept through, barely touching my heated skin, the glimpses of the sky and bending branches still in my sight.

Shoved into a casket, the splintered wood pressed into my palms, digging beneath my nails, but the pain didn’t compare to the suffocating terror. I thrashed back and forth, my head swiveling left and right, every fiber of me desperate to escape this nightmare.

Except nobody was coming.

Gasping and panting, I attempted to pull myself upright but failed miserably. A chuckle sounded, ominous and dark, and I whipped my head to find three faces staring down at me with revulsion.

There were no more masks, but it didn’t matter. I recognized their voices. These were the same men who’d come into our apartment a mere week ago, threatening Mom.

Why didn’t we run away? Why didn’t we hide?

“Wh-where is my mother?” I said through clattering teeth.

One of them crouched down and gripped my chin.

“You better worry about yourself, girl. Welcome to your grave,” he said, his smile twisted and his eyes glittering with malice.

“Why?” I rasped, shuddering in the small box. “I want my mother.”

The blow that followed had my head flying to the side, my ears ringing as pain ripped through my cheek. I reached my bound wrists up, smearing the sticky, hot liquid that dripped down my face—blood and tears.

He clasped my chin between rough fingers again and spoke with malevolence. “Did my sister get to call for her mother before she was burned alive?” I blinked, my heart thundering painfully. I didn’t understand the words he spat at me. I didn’t know his sister. “Sister for a daughter. You will burn in this casket.”

He grabbed my hair, twisting it around his fist, and soon another punch followed. My head smacked against the wood, the air rushing out of me as I gasped.Breathe. Breathe. I can’t breathe.

I dug my jagged fingernails into his wrist. I fought, but it was all for naught. I was weak and in more pain than I ever thought possible.

My screams turned to cries before finally dissolving into raspy, pathetic breaths. But my body wasn’t ready to give in. I tried to crawl out of the box. I needed to live. I needed my mother. I needed?—

I didn’t know. I just knew I couldn’t die like this. Hopelessly, I choked for air, sobbing for my mother. For anyone who was willing to save me.

But nobody came.

A man yanked me by my hair, forcing me down into the box. I pushed and twisted, fighting with all I had. A third man came around and held me down before the wood top slowly started to shut.

I stared helplessly, watching the slivers of gray sky disappear. I focused on its beauty, sent a prayer up above. To whom, I didn’t know, but I hoped someone would hear it.

I inhaled a deep breath, the salt in the air soothing the pain in my soul as the waves lulled me toward my final resting place.

I let the cold, dark reality sink in. This was the end. It wasn’t fair, but nobody had asked me. It was the reality of life.

So I closed my eyes and started humming to fill the eerily quiet and darkness. Anything to drive fear from my mind. And I didn’t stop. Not when the anguish licked at my skin. Not when the fire ignited.

I would hum until death came for me.

ONE

MANUEL

Eleven Years Later