ZEUS

Father doesn’t scream. He doesn’t throw things. He doesn’t need to, his silence is even more dangerous.

He just stands there, at the head of the long war table, hands resting flat on the polished surface like he could crush the entire palace beneath his palms if he wanted to. His eyes burn into me, sharp and wild with fury, and I think for a second that he might actually strike me. I almost wish he would. It would be easier than this.

“This was your post,” he says quietly, and somehow the quiet is worse than shouting. “Your charge. Your blood.”

I don’t answer yet. I know better....