Di managed to secure a hotel room a few blocks away. The place wasn’t anything fancy, just clean, quiet, and far enough from the ruins to breathe…but not too far. She booked Erin a separate room on the floor below, making it very clear that sharing space wasn’t on the table.

  The next morning she got a call from some police officer called ‘Jared’. He asked her to come down to the station and give a formal statement about the destruction. The conversation was oddly mundane—routine, even. None of the officers seemed to recognize her from the chaos the night before. No mention of Leo or his ramblings. Just forms, polite nods, and a suggestion to reach out to her insurance provider to begin the claims process.

  The rest of the week blurred by in a haze of paperwork, endless phone calls, and far too many sleepless nights. The bar was still cordoned off behind yellow tape, the investigation labeled ‘ongoing’, which felt like code for ‘we don’t know what the hell happened, so we’re going to keep poking around until we can make something up’.

  Di was slouched on the edge of the hotel bed, eating half-stale fries from a paper bag and staring blankly at the TV. She didn’t even remember turning it on, but at some point it had become background noise, and it had turned into something dangerously close to comforting.

  The movie playing was one of those teen romcoms that wore the early 2000s like a badge of honor. She’d meant to change the channel a dozen times but hadn’t worked up the willpower…and besides, she was nearly halfway through. She might as well finish it at this point.

  The scene on the television shifted. The guy with the shaggy hair had somehow gotten his hands on a microphone. He was strutting across the school bleachers, belting out a song at full volume while security gave chase below. Despite herself, Di found herself seriously interested in whether they were going to catch him or not…and whether the girl he was trying to impress would actually give into his antics.

  Then came a knock on the door.

  Di didn’t move. She shoved another fry into her mouth and turned the volume up a notch, letting the song echo off the hotel’s bland wallpaper. Another knock followed. She didn’t even blink. Just shifted her weight and kept watching as the guy slid dramatically down a pole and narrowly avoided a security guard’s outstretched arms.

  The knock came again, more insistent this time.

  “Fuck off, Erin!” Di shouted, but wasn’t sure she could be heard over the blaring television.

  The Muse had been shadowing her like a lost cat since they’d checked into the hotel. Every time Di left the building, Erin followed. Sometimes at a not-so-subtle distance, other times walking right beside her like they were best friends. Every return to the hotel was met with a soft knock at her door, followed by some quip or excuse or ‘just checking in’.

  Di always responded the same way: by slamming the door in her face. But Erin was persistent. Five knocks a day. Like clockwork.

  This would be knock number… What? Four?

  Di threw the crumpled fry bag onto the nightstand, dragged herself to the door, and flung it open with a scowl already primed and ready.

  “What,” she snapped.

  No one was there.

  The hallway stretched out before her, empty and quiet, lit by dim overhead fluorescents that buzzed faintly, as if mocking her. No sign of Erin. No sign of anyone. Just the usual hotel emptiness and the stale scent of vacuumed carpet and artificial lemon.

  Di exhaled sharply through her nose then muttered something foul under her breath. Her hand lingered on the doorknob for a second longer before she yanked it shut with a loud slam. The bolt clicked back into place.

  She turned…and froze.

  There was someone sitting on her bed, and in her shock, she almost threw the hotel kettle at his head.

  Then she saw his face.

  The panic didn’t fade, not exactly, but it sharpened. Recolored itself into something colder…because she recognized him.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Di blinked once. Then again, slower this time, like that would somehow clear the hallucination from her eyes.

  Nope. Still there.

  Draped across her bed like he’d just wandered out of a cologne commercial, Dionysus grinned. His violet eyes were fixed on the movie, where the shaggy-haired guy was now sitting in detention.

  “I love this one,” Dionysus said, his voice syrup-smooth. He pointed the the TV, at the actor slumped over his desk. “That one’s got a face made for romance. The kind of beautiful that gets remembered. A little reckless but with a softness in his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was one of Aphrodite’s. He’s got that look, don’t you think?”

  Di didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

  Because yeah…she did think that, but she wasn’t about to admit that she had anything in common with her father.

  Dionysus watched her for a beat longer, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction. When none came, he gave a long, theatrical sigh.

  “Gods, you’re so dramatic,” he muttered, flopping sideways across the bed like a dying Victorian lady. “You get that from me, by the way. It's a gift.”

  Di’s jaw twitched. “What do you want?”

  Dionysus grinned again, rolling onto his side and propping his head up with one hand. “Is that any way to greet your father after he’s come all this way to visit?”

  “You’re not visiting, you’re trespassing.”

  Dionysus gave a wounded little gasp, pressing a hand to his chest like she’d run him through. “Trespassing? Darling, please. That makes it sound so…creepy.”

  “You are creepy.”

  He gave a smug little shrug. “Technicalities. The death of all good theater. You should know better than to get caught up in rules. I’m certainly not beholden to them. That’s more of an Athena thing. Very ‘by the book.’ Boring.”

  “Just tell me what you want.”

  Dionysus groaned, one arm flopping dramatically off the side of the bed. “Ugh. So serious. You really know how to kill a vibe.

  “Don’t act like this is normal,” she said coldly. “You’ve never visited me. Not once. You’ve never even spoken to me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re some fucking stranger that broke into my hotel room. Nothing else.”

  That seemed to sting…but only for a second. Dionysus sat up with an exaggerated sigh and made his way to the mini bar.

  “Gods forbid a divine parent make an unannounced appearance without being crucified for emotional neglect,” he muttered as he crouched down and swung the little fridge door open. He pulled out a tiny bottle of red wine, squinted at the label, and popped the cap with a flick of his nail. The bottle let out a sad little glug as he took a sip. Immediately, his face twisted in horror. “Ugh. What is this? Why do mortals drink this garbage?” Despite his complaints, he took another sip anyway. “We’re all being encouraged to check in on our surviving kids after the first trial. Words of inspiration, emotional support, you know…parenting.”

  He said the last word like it tasted foreign in his mouth.

  “Parenting?” Di scoffed.

  “Yeah. I thought you might need a pep talk. Some divine morale. Maybe a hug. A little ‘go get ’em, tiger.’” He paused, tilting his head. “Do you want a hug? I can make it weird. You’d hate it.”

  “You’re twenty-seven years too late.”

  Dionysus blinked, like the number genuinely caught him off guard. “Twenty-seven?” He tilted his head, frowning faintly. “Huh. I could’ve sworn you were twenty-one. Twenty-two, tops.”

  “Must be hard keeping track of all your mistakes.”

  Dionysus winced, like the jab actually landed, then covered it with another sip from the bottle. He didn’t comment on the taste that time.

  “If you’re looking for a warm reunion,” Di went on, folding her arms, “go see Callum.”

  Dionysus made a face that was hard to read. Something between sheepishness and amusement. “Oh, I already saw him. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Di, despite herself, found that she was at least a little curious about what he had to say. “Spit it out then.”

  Dionysus leaned against the counter like it might help him ease into the point. “The Ektomia isn’t just about strength. You’ll need allies.”

  Di narrowed her eyes. “So this is a strategy talk now?”

  “Call it what you want. But if you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll start looking for people you can actually rely on. People who won’t put a knife in your back just to get ahead.”

  Di shook her head and started to turn her back on him. “Don’t say it. He’s dead weight.”

  “He’s your brother.”

  “And I had at least half a dozen more that got shredded in the first trial.”

  Dionysus didn’t argue. He just tipped back the rest of the tiny wine bottle, tossed it aside with a sharp clink, and pulled another from the minibar. He cracked it open, took a longer swig, then finally said, “The difference is Callum’s still alive. And he’s still just a boy. Barely thirteen. If his birthday had been two days later, he wouldn’t have competed for another twenty years. By then he’d be a man. Maybe he’d have a chance. Right now, his only chance is you. Surely you wouldn’t just watch him die. No child of mine would be so cruel.”

  “He’s going to die eventually. Why should I care? More importantly…why do you?”

  Dionysus looked down at the bottle in his hand for a long moment. “I’m just trying to give both of you a fair chance. If the roles were reversed, I’d do the same for you.”

  That made Di laugh, but it was short and bitter. Fuelled only by spite. “Bullshit.” She shook her head, smile sharp as broken glass. “You knew exactly how old he was. Down to the day. Not that I give two shits that Gods play favourites, but if you come down here and lie to my face again… Well, I might just kill him myself.”

  Dionysus’ expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes faltered. The humor, the detachment, it drained like wine down a cracked glass. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stared at her, like he wasn’t sure whether to be worried or furious.

  “You were right about one thing, though.” Di stepped forward and plucked the wine bottle from his hand. “I’m no child of yours. Now, get the fuck out of here.”