Chapter 160 Start of Another Cacophony

Chapter 160 Start of Another Cacophony
P E R S E U S

I stop beneath the thick canopy of trees to adjust my boots, my fingers fumbling with the wet laces. The rain has turned the ground to mud, and every step feels heavier than the last. Thomas lingers a few paces behind me, and a familiar unease prickles at the back of my neck. I slow my pace deliberately, not willing to let him out of my sight.

I don’t trust him. Not enough to feel safe around him, and certainly not enough to risk a blade in my back—literally or otherwise.

The man disgusts me more than anything I’ve ever known. I hate the sight of him, the sound of his breathing, the mere fact that he exists beside me. Maybe some small, broken part of me might have softened when I first revealed who I was. But that part died when I was thirteen, when I learned the truth about what I am.

I’ve been cursed because of him. Because of the choices he and my mother made. Selfish, reckless decisions that left me feeling like some polluted mistake—a creature that shouldn’t exist, something that needed to be hidden away. His excuses for not being there might make sense on some level, but what I can’t forgive—what I will never accept—is that he looked me in the eye and didn’t even recognize his own blood.

This is his fault. All of it. Us being out here in this gods-forsaken forest, soaked to the bone beneath this endless drizzle, chilled by wind that cuts right through layers. This wet, miserable ground. This stupid, desperate race against time to find a husband for Athena so I can get back to my wife.

We could’ve shifted. We could’ve flown straight to Eretia. But the sky is thick with fog, and I won’t waste Ezekiel’s strength when he’s still trying to reach Eleanor. She’s the only thing that matters. She’s the only reason I’m playing along with this madness instead of burning this entire forest down. I can’t risk another war by defying that snake-obsessed queen.

“The rain is getting heavier, Perseus,” Thomas says, his voice raised slightly over the downpour. “We need to find shelter.” I ignore him, trudging forward. He clears his throat, more insistently this time. “Perseus. We need to stop.”

I whirl around to face him, rainwater dripping from my hair into my eyes. I stare right through him, willing him to feel every ounce of my contempt. “Well, maybe if someone hadn’t started a war over something irrelevant, we wouldn’t have to stop,” I snap.

He quickens his steps until he’s walking beside me, matching my stubborn pace. He lets out a heavy sigh, one that sounds too tired for a man who claims to be a king. “You knew the war was going to happen, Perseus. We’d all been preparing for it—especially after you took it upon yourself to start conquering ancient villages. And the werewolves.”

I pull to a sudden halt, turning fully toward him. My glare is sharp enough to cut stone. He meets my gaze, unflinching. Up close, the resemblance makes my stomach turn. I’m only a few inches taller than him. His hair is gray, darkened now by the rain, while mine is still thick and dark—like my mother’s.

“You think I conquered cities for pleasure?” My voice is low, dangerous.

“Back then? Yes. Especially with how fast it all happened. It looked like you were bloodthirsty.”

“Destroying people?” I finish for him, my tone biting. “Pardon me if I’m living up to my name.” I scoff and turn to walk away, but his next words freeze me in place.

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

I look back over my shoulder. “Finish what, exactly? Explain how your opinion of me suddenly changed the second you found out I’m your son? It’s absurd. You spent years hating me. Now what? You want us to be what—friends? Acquaintances? Family? All because we share blood? Really?”

“Go on,” he says, his voice calm in a way that only fuels my anger. “Say whatever you want to say. At this rate, you’ll keep deliberately misinterpreting my words just to make yourself feel better.”

I click my tongue and step closer until we’re almost chest to chest. The air feels charged, tense. Somewhere nearby, a twig snaps and trees shake lightly, but I pay it no mind. My focus is entirely on him.

“You really want to hear what I want to say?” I ask, my voice dropping to something cold and quiet.

“Go on,” he repeats, unwavering. “Say it.”

“I knew you never wanted me in the first place,” I tell him, my tone brutally blunt. “So we should keep our relationship exactly as it was in the beginning. The truth doesn’t change a thing.”

“In the beginning?” he echoes, confusion flickering in his eyes.

“Since we’ve both hated each other.” I pause, letting the words hang between us like a blade. “You know, I wish you had died instead of Mom.”

He doesn’t say a single word after that. A sharp, heavy disappointment flashes across his face, followed by something else, something raw and wounded, but I don’t care enough to try and name it. I don’t have the energy to decipher his regrets. I turn my back on him and keep walking, my boots sinking into the wet earth with every step. It's nice that I could finally shut him up.

Then I hear it, the snap of twigs, the rustle of undergrowth. Too many footsteps, moving too quickly to be animals. A heavy, wild smell hits me next, thick with wet fur and aggression.

My head snaps up, instincts screaming.

Rogues.

They emerge from between the trees, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, their forms tense and hungry. Five of them. Maybe six. Their coats are matted with mud and rain, their lips pulled back in silent snarls.

Not now. Damn it, not now.