“I will.” She hesitates. “Eros, I really am sorry.”
“I know.” I hang up, thinking hard.
If Psyche was seen at the university gardens and my mother is heading in that direction, that’s where they’ll meet. I’ll have one chance to control this situation, and bringing in more people adds too many uncontrollable elements. I consider my options. If I drive, there are going to be added minutes trying to find a parking spot, and it will take time I can’t afford.
I drag in a breath. No doubt my mother is driving. She never would have walked there from her house. That gives me time.
I start to run.
As my pounding strides eat up the blocks between me and the gardens, I can’t help the frantic circling of my thoughts. Why would Psyche do this? Why would she risk this?
Except… I know why, don’t I?
Love makes fools of us all. I never realized that would be so literal. We’re both so intent on saving each other from pain and harm, we’re throwing ourselves right into those very things. Psyche is cunning and so intelligent it drives me up the walls, but my mother is a different breed entirely. And she has a gun. I never would have thought she’d go so far as to dirty her own hands, but Psyche has outmaneuvered her at every turn. When cornered, Aphrodite won’t hesitate to strike out.
To strike Psyche.
I can’t lose her. I just fucking found her.
I’m panting and sweating by the time I reach the gardens. Where will Psyche have gone? I frantically think back to when we walked them. Was that just a few days ago? It feels like a lifetime. We walked deep enough down the paths that we couldn’t be seen from the street, to what she said was her favorite part of the garden. I bet that’s where she’s at.
My body aches as I pick up my pace. My shoes weren’t meant for running, but I barely feel the pain. Especially when I round a corner and find Psyche facing off with my mother. Aphrodite has my gun held in two hands, her stance shitty but it’s not like she can miss at that range. My wife is all but cowering against those fucking twigs she told me are flowers.
I force myself to stop, to slow down to avoid surprising my mother into pulling the trigger, and lift my hands. “That’s enough, Mother.”
She doesn’t look at me. “Turn around, Eros. I have this perfectly under control.” Her voice is so perfectly controlled, she might have been commenting on the weather.
“I can’t let you do this.” I can’t think, don’t know how to play this to ensure she puts down the gun without pulling the trigger. All I have is panic, and panic will get Psyche killed. I inch closer. “Go home, Psyche. I’ll deal with this.”
“She has a gun!” Her voice shakes and she’s half-crouched, her arms lifted as if that would be enough to stop a bullet. She’s panicking, too, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. “She’s going to kill me!”
“She won’t kill you. I won’t let her.” I desperately hope I’m not lying.
I take another slow step forward, but Aphrodite shakes her head. “No closer or I pull the trigger.”
That stops me short, my heart lunging into the back of my throat. I have to find the right words to say, but my brain is pure static. I’m not close enough to lunge for the gun, though, so I have to try. “You’d risk Zeus’s fury for this?”
“I’d do that and more.” She doesn’t take her gaze from Psyche. “But I’m not the one killing Demeter’s daughter, Eros. You are.”
Understanding dawns as I take her in. The old coat that I haven’t seen on her in years. The leather gloves that will remove any trace of gun residue if she fires—and her fingerprints. Which means the only fingerprints on the gun registered to me are mine.
Fear, true fear, coats me in ice. She’s really going to do it. She’s not bluffing. “Why would I shoot my wife? I love her.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Her pretty face twists into something horrible. “You don’t love this little bitch. You’re not capable of love. She was supposed to be dead, Eros. Her heart on a fucking platter. What the fuck is wrong with you that you would marry her?”
Psyche isn’t crying, but she looks damn close. “Why would you want to kill me? I’ve never done anything to you!” She’s shaking so hard, she has to clutch her hands in front of her chest.
Aphrodite turns her body a little to keep me in her line of sight as she glares down at my wife. “Your mother’s done plenty. She needs to be taken down a few notches. She doesn’t get to pick the next Hera. I do.”