The Sea Tyrant's Obsession (PJO x ROR) *18+* WTM/WTS Book 1

*I Plunge To My Death

The next title appeared on the screen:

I Plunge To My Death

The gods' reaction was... chaotic.

Zeus immediately stood up, lightning crackling in his hand. "WHAT? Who dares show such a fate for a divine child?"

Hera gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "How could it come to this?!"

Hades narrowed his eyes. "This can't be true. The girl's journey has just begun."

Poseidon, face dark with fury, slammed his trident into the ground, causing a tremor. "This must be some cruel joke. No one would dare take her life!"

Apollo, trying to lighten the mood, chuckled nervously. "Maybe it's just a metaphor? You know... dramatic storytelling?"

Hermes winced. "Not sure about that one, Apollo. It doesn't sound good."

Dionysus, sipping from his goblet, raised an eyebrow. "This better have a plot twist."

As the gods erupted into heated discussions, Rhea's calm voice cut through the chaos. "Enough. We will see what unfolds. If my granddaughter has truly fallen... we will come after the gods of that universe," she ended threateningly.

We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain.

"Traveling by train is not the worst way to evade enemies. But it might not last for long." Hades stated.

Susano'o nodded thoughtfully. "It's good to keep moving, but the danger lies in constant visibility."

We weren't attacked once, but I didn't relax. I felt that we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity.

Zeus huffed, folding his arms. "Of course she's being watched. Whoever is after her is likely keeping a close eye on her."

Poseidon scowled, clearly unsettled by the thought.

I tried to keep a low profile because my name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist as I got off the Greyhound bus. I had a wild look in my eyes. My sword was a metallic blur in my hands. It might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick.

Hermes smirked, shaking his head. "There's nothing like having your face plastered across tabloids. She really needs a disguise next time."

Apollo chuckled. "She does have that hero look, doesn't she? All wild-eyed, sword in hand. It's practically made for headlines."

The picture's caption read:

Fourteen-year-old Percilla Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of her mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where she accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the girl may be traveling with two teenage accomplices. Her stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to her capture.

Just the mention of the awful stepfather's name activated every god's killing intent, with Hades, Poseidon, Zeus, Adamas, and Rhea with the worst of it.

"Don't worry," Anthony told me. "Mortal police could never find us." But he didn't sound so sure.

The rest of the day I spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because I had a really hard time sitting still) or looking out the windows.