Hey, all! Welcome to the turning point of the story. Things are about to get real.

Thanks to everybody who reviewed last chapter! Enjoy!

Take my hand tonight / One last time

Luke had been kidding when he'd asked Annabeth if she was having second thoughts about their mission to take down Olympus. But the next day as the time of the deal she would participate in got closer and closer, 'second thoughts' was an understated term to describe the kind of reservations she was having.

She knew that she should be excited. Catching Olympus had been her goal for years. It was the reason she'd studied criminal justice and the reason she'd joined the CIA. It was the driving force of her career, of her life. But what had she understood about them, really? As she was learning, she didn't understand nearly as much as she'd thought. And it was enough to make her question every decision she'd made for quite some time.

Now that she'd met some of its members, she was beginning to realize that the Olympus she'd imagined was different from the truth. Yes, they were criminals. But did that make them bad people? When she looked at Percy and Nico, she didn't—couldn't believe that. She felt like she knew them, like she trusted them. They didn't know it, but at the exchange that night, the CIA would be lying in wait, planning to ambush them at the right moment. Someone could get hurt. And she wasn't sure she wanted that.

All day, Annabeth remained alone in her apartment and tried to puzzle through her thoughts with very little luck. When the time came, she'd passed the point of anxiety and made a full stop at panic.

She arrived at the exchange point—a storage facility owned by the Mercury cell phone company—just after 12:30 A.M., barely half an hour before the appointed time. They'd said last night that it was going to be a six-man operation, but in the front room she found only Nico, who was busy sorting through a pile of duffel bags and didn't hear her come in.

She walked forward, glancing around the room. They were in something of a small office, with four desks scattered about and a cubicle in the corner. Everything was neat and tidy, like a cleaning team had recently made their rounds. "Hey," she greeted Nico. Startled, he sprang to an upright position and spun around, aiming the barrel of a 9-millimeter handgun in her direction. She held up her hands and said hurriedly, "It's just me!"

Nico relaxed and lowered his gun, though he fixed her with a scowl. "Don't sneak up on me like that," he snapped.

"A little on edge?" she noticed, walking around to the other side of the desk he was standing over.

"Can you tell?" he asked sardonically. "I swear, this thing can't be over soon enough." Annabeth bit her lip, agreeing with that statement more than he could possibly know. "Here," he said, tossing her one of the bags. "There's some equipment in there. You're gonna want it."

She opened the duffel bag to reveal an assortment of items—a few guns, magazine holsters, an earpiece (she decided not to mention the one she was already wearing, though it wasn't turned on yet at the time), and a small bundle of black fabric. She reached in and grabbed the fabric, shaking it out to reveal a black T-shirt with a small decal on the left breast that displayed a Greek battle helmet over a crossed lightning bolt and trident—the trademark symbol of Olympus.

"You guys have matching T-shirts?" Annabeth asked, trying not to laugh.

Nico rolled his eyes and answered, "Aimee Beauregard's idea. Don't ask, just go with it." The name Beauregard sounded vaguely familiar to Annabeth. She tried to think back on where she might have heard it, but when Nico reached up and pulled his dark gray T-shirt off over his head, her attention was diverted once again to his heavily-decorated arms—specifically the huge, black rose in bloom that covered his right shoulder.

"What do they mean?" she blurted out without pretext, her curiosity getting the better of her.

He paused his action of pulling out his own decaled shirt and followed her gaze to his right arm. "The flowers?" he guessed with an amused look, almost like he knew she'd been wondering for weeks. She lifted a shoulder in acquiescence and suddenly his expression grew serious. "They're for my sister."

"Bianca," Annabeth said without thinking. Nico shot her a sharp look, his body visibly tensing, and she explained quickly, "Percy told me what happened."

He breathed out shortly and shook his head. "He just tells you everything, doesn't he?" he said wryly, and Annabeth resisted the urge to say, Not everything. She thought the conversation would be over, but to her surprise Nico went on, "She loved flowers. The black rose," he paused and tapped the giant bloom on his shoulder. "That was her favorite. A biological impossibility. She liked them because… they proved that darkness could be just as beautiful as light. That what everybody else thought was wrong… wasn't always wrong."

For some reason, that idea resonated particularly loudly with Annabeth. It was like the spirit of Nico's sister was speaking directly to her, trying to help her out of her dilemma. And though she couldn't explain why, it scared her.

"She wanted to be a botanist," Nico said, his mouth tilting in a small smile, "to use nature to help change people's outlook on the world. I don't know, I always thought it was stupid." He chuckled weakly, and Annabeth gave a sad smile. "She'd just gotten accepted to Cornell and was… annoyingly excited." Then his smile faded slowly, and he finished, "But she never made orientation."

"I'm sorry," Annabeth muttered, unsure what else to say. She hadn't expected him to open up to her like that. Maybe he truly was starting to trust her after all. And maybe her actions had already signed his death warrant.

After a second, his humorless smirk returned and he gathered the black T-shirt in his arms. Pulling it on over his head, he asked her, "Bit different seeing this side of it, huh?"

Annabeth frowned. "This side of what?"

"Your job," Nico answered, straightening his shirt and turning sideways to look at her. "You're an assassin for the CIA, right? You kill people for a living."

A slightly defensive edge entered her voice as she replied, "I kill criminals."

Nico shook his head off-handedly, like that was incidental information. "Everybody's got a family, no matter what path their life's run. You ever think about the people that get left behind? The loss they feel—the one you're responsible for?"

People had asked her before what if felt like to take the lives of her assigned targets, and she had always reasoned that they were criminals—law-breakers. To tell the truth, she had never thought about who might be affected by these people's deaths because it wasn't relevant to her job. "What matters is what they've done," she said stiffly. "Details don't change anything."

"Details?" Nico repeated harshly, his eyes darkening. "Is that what you call the people whose lives you ruin? All because of some bullshit government bad-guy label?" She could tell that what she was saying was personally offending him—after all, his sister was killed by a CIA agent. Technically, that made him one of those 'details'.

"If our targets are on the list," Annabeth argued, though her certainty was beginning to waver, "there's a reason they were put there. All we do is give them what they deserve."

Nico's scowl hardened into a glare and he said calmly, "No one deserves to die. Not when there are people out there that love them."

Annabeth would be lying if she said she hadn't already begun questioning her beliefs and her path in life, thanks to the events of the past few weeks. But it was one thing to wonder yourself if what you'd believed for years was wrong, and another entirely to have someone tell it to your face. She didn't understand right and wrong anymore, not like she thought she did once. But hearing Nico—the criminal—tell her that she—the CIA agent—had committed countless wrongs was strange to her. More than anything, it made her feel ashamed—like she'd made a huge mistake and was the last one to see it.

"Are you telling me you've never killed anyone?" she asked in a weak attempt at a defensive argument.

She saw his jaw tighten and he hesitated before reaching out his left arm. He walked the first two fingers of his right hand across his skin, tapping each of the thick, black stripes that rung around his left forearm. Six of them. "One for every life I've taken," he explained, "for every family I've hurt." His voice was low and rough, and when he looked at Annabeth she could see a darkness in his eyes that had nothing to do with their color. "I keep them here because I know what it's like to be the one left behind. I know how it feels when somebody you love is killed before their time, all because some jackass just didn't give a damn. Maybe it's hypocritical, but I just don't want to lose anything else—even if that means taking things from others. I do what I have to, to protect what I've got left." He shook his head so slightly that she almost didn't see it, as he finished, "But it hurts every time."

Annabeth stared at him, stunned into silence. She really had been wrong. The Olympus she'd hated had been an idea—an unreachable group of phantoms whose members were all bloodthirsty criminals with no regard for the law or for what was right. The Olympus she'd hated had been the criminals who'd stolen her mother from her, weakened and forced her to follow in their ways. But the Olympus she'd hated had never existed in the first place. So what was there left for her to hate?

"I can't believe I'm saying this," she said somewhat breathlessly after a heavy silence, "but you're right." She looked Nico in the eye, ready to be truly honest for the first time in a long time, and went on, "I'm sorry. Not about your sister, but… because I was wrong about you—about all of you." She glanced at the ceiling, thinking back on the feelings that had driven her since she was twelve. "I always hated Olympus for… corrupting my mother, burying my family name in the dirt. For years, I thought you were all just… ruthless criminals—people who only cared about money and wealth and saving your own skins regardless of however many laws you broke or lives you endangered on the way, but… you're not." She gave a small, listless smile. "Some of you might even be better people than I am."

She thought of Nico's argument and the black rings on his arm. Death had been her job, but she was realizing now that she didn't properly understand it—not the way he did. He knew what it meant, for everyone involved. He knew and he understood and he thought and he cared, where she had never done so. He never wanted to hurt anyone. He only did what he had to.

Then she thought of Percy, and of his own motivation for joining Olympus. Everything he did was to protect the people he loved, so that he and everyone else would never have to feel loss again. When she looked at what motivated these people compared to what had always motivated her, it was clear whose intentions were purer.

Annabeth sighed. It was strangely draining to be so honest after so much time spent telling nothing but lies. "I'm not saying I believe that everything I've done is wrong," she said aloud. "But maybe right and wrong… isn't quite as black and white as I thought."

She fell silent and turned her eyes to Nico again to see him watching her with a serious, unreadable expression. She wasn't sure if he would take her admission positively or negatively, and she was surprised to realize that she genuinely hoped it was the former. Never in her life would she have thought she would be making friends as she was with criminals.

"You know," Nico said slowly after a long minute. "I used to think all CIA guys were cold, heartless bastards." His eyes softened just a bit when he finished, "Maybe we both have some stuff to learn." Annabeth felt a smile spread across her face when she understood what he meant. The corner of his mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. "The others should be here any minute," he said, nodding to the supply bag on the table in front of Annabeth. "Move it along."

Annabeth pulled the black Olympus T-shirt on over her own top and had just begun loading a few spare magazines into the gun holster when she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She turned her back to Nico and extracted the phone to see a text message from Luke.

What are you doing? Turn your wire on. We all need to keep each other updated, and that means you too.

She couldn't just ignore him. Whatever reservations she was having, he was still her superior, and this operation was crucial to both their jobs. So she followed his orders and switched on her tiny microphone, allowing him to hear everything she was hearing.

As she turned back around, the office door opened and Percy strode in. He was followed by a relatively short, middle-aged man whom Annabeth didn't recognize. His dark hair was streaked with shades of gray, and his stormy blue eyes were ringed with age-old smile lines. His features were sharp, somewhat elf-like, but he looked friendly, if in a devious sort of way. He reminded her just a bit of the Stoll brothers—who, to her startled surprise, walked into the room right behind him.

"Annabeth, hey," Travis greeted her with a grin. "Percy told us you'd be taking Clarisse's place, which I said was a great idea. It'll be good to have a girl on board."

Connor—who, for the first time since Annabeth had seen him, wasn't holding his cell phone—set down the heavy black suitcase he was carrying and pointed out, "Clarisse is a girl."

Travis snorted. "Could've fooled me."

"What are you guys doing here?" Annabeth asked. "You're not… Are you part of Olympus, too?"

"Sure," Travis answered with a shrug. He reached up and pulled back his hair to show her the snake tattooed behind his left ear, and she remembered Percy saying that all members of the organization got some sort of tattoo when they were inducted.

Connor revealed an identical tattoo behind his right ear and added, "It's kind of a family business, after all."

"Family," Annabeth repeated, her eyes flitting to the man who'd entered with them. He had just closed the office door and turned to survey the room, and when his eyes landed on Annabeth he smiled.

"So you're Annabeth," he said, striding over and offering her his hand. She shook it somewhat numbly as he introduced himself, "I'm Harrison Stoll, owner and CEO of the Mercury cell phone company."

"Also known as codename Hermes," Percy added, coming to stand beside Annabeth, "organization head of communications and transit. He set up this deal tonight, and he's in charge."

Annabeth cringed and tried her best to turn it into a friendly smile. That was one more name added to the CIA's Olympus roster. "Nice to meet you," she said in a level voice.

"We should kick it into gear," Nico pointed out. "It's almost time."

Once everyone was outfitted and ready, Connor once again picked up the black suitcase as Harrison informed them, "We're meeting Centaur in Warehouse Four. Let's move." He stuck a handgun under the waistband of his jeans and led the way out of the room.

Knowing she was running out of time to make a decision, Annabeth grabbed Percy's sleeve and held back, saying, "Can I talk to you a minute?"

He shot a glance at the door as the others disappeared through it and replied, "Can't we talk later? We're on a bit of a tight schedule, here."

Annabeth shook her head and forged on, "Why didn't you tell me you were scouted by the CIA?"

Percy froze, his head turning slowly to look her in the eyes. He was quiet for a while, a trapped sort of expression on his face. Part of her had been hoping he'd deny it, but he sighed shortly and said, "Look, I'm sorry for keeping that from you. You're right, I should have told you the whole truth—that Kronos has a sort of personal vendetta against me. I guess I just… I don't know, he's your boss, right? I was just worried that if you knew how much he hated me, then…"

"Then I would hate you, too?" she guessed.

"Yeah," he agreed with a shrug. "But that was before the whole secret-relationship thing. I trust you now." He smiled and reached a hand up to touch her arm gently. "I'm just glad that now we can be honest with each other."

Annabeth smiled back, though how she managed it when she was screaming inside was a wonder. That last comment cut her like a butcher's knife. Honest? She hadn't been honest with him at all. He was wrong—she didn't deserve his honesty. Or his trust.

She took a deep, unsteady breath, knowing that now was the time to come clean. "Percy, I…"

"It can wait, okay?" he interrupted her with an encouraging smile. "I promise we'll talk later. You can ask me anything you want. Let's just get through this deal first." He jerked his head toward the door before leading the way out of the room, and Annabeth was forced to follow.

They caught up with the Stolls at the entrance to Warehouse 4. Beyond the huge set of double doors was a wide, cold room with a high ceiling. The lights were on, and though they didn't do much to alleviate the darkness, they were enough at least to provide ample sight. The walls were lined with crates and boxes, coded and sorted by colored stripes along the concrete floor. Annabeth could see a wide forklift entrance along the back wall and noticed that the doors were propped open a few feet. Either that was how the representatives from Centaur were to get in, or the CIA team was already inside.

Annabeth and the others spread out into the room. She, as rear guard, stayed near the main door. Percy and Nico fanned out to the left and right, coming to rest in the shadows near some stacks of crates. Harrison led the way to the center of the room, flanked by Travis and Connor—the former of whom held a sub-machine gun in both hands and the latter of whom carried the heavy black suitcase that contained whatever contraband they would be trading. As they came to a halt, five men appeared from the shadows near the rear door. Two of them remained a good distance from the center of the room while the other three walked toward Harrison, Travis, and Connor. Like the Stolls, one of the other men carried a gun and one a suitcase.

They were too far away for Annabeth to hear what they were saying, but it didn't matter. Her mind was reeling as she tried to decide what to do. Luke and his team were in the building. The low whispers in her earpiece as they reported their positions were enough to prove that much. If she kept her mouth shut and allowed the exchange to play out, the team would intervene as soon as the switch was made. They would attack with the intention of live capture, but the chances of everyone coming out unscathed were very low. After all, she knew the Olympus team was tough and highly skilled—and they wouldn't go down without a fight. There would be casualties.

But on the other hand, if she tried to warn the Olympus team, the CIA squad would likely attack anyway—and she would name herself one of their targets. The whole thing would probably be even more of a rushed mess. It was, she couldn't help but think, a no-win situation.

"As soon as the deal happens," Luke's low voice said in Annabeth's ear, projecting to the entire CIA team, "we move in. Nobody move until I give the word. Chase, your cover won't be needed anymore, so I'm gonna want you to take out Jackson like you were assigned. Try to get him before he figures out what's happening."

Annabeth didn't respond. He couldn't have expected her to, given that she was, for the time being, still undercover and in the open. But even if he had, she didn't know what to say. She didn't want to follow his orders. She wasn't going to follow his orders. She wouldn't kill Percy. And she wouldn't help Luke any longer.

It was finally time to make a choice. She thought of Nico and how he hated to hurt people, of Percy and his desire to protect his family. She thought of Travis and Connor and their kind, carefree attitudes, of Harrison and his friendly eyes and his smile. She thought of Damien Fresch, somewhere in hiding because she'd given him up. These were not the terrible people she'd vowed to destroy—the evil she'd imagined all those years ago. These were normal people—and more than that, these were her friends.

Percy had told her she needed to decide what was important to her, and that that would be her reason for choosing a side.

So she tore out her earpiece and she chose.

Steeling her mind and her expression, Annabeth turned and walking quickly toward where Percy was standing off to the side. He glanced over and frowned at her as she approached, saying in a low voice, "What are you doing? You're not supposed to leave—"

"It's a trap," she interrupted him. She didn't know if Luke or his team could see or hear her, but it didn't matter anymore. She wanted Percy and the others to be prepared for what was coming.

"What?" he asked with an uncertain half-smile, like he thought—or hoped—she was kidding.

"There's a CIA field team hiding in this room, waiting for you to make the exchange. As soon as it goes through, they move in. We need to get out of here before that happens."

It hurt to watch his expression change—first skeptical disbelief, then concern, and finally stunned, accusatory realization. He shook his head just barely and said, "You mean you… You really were spying on us—trying to get in with the organization."

"No," she insisted, hating the way he was looking at her. "I mean—yes, but—it's not that simple, okay? Look, I'll explain everything, I promise. But please, just trust me, we have to—"

"Trust you?" he repeated harshly. "You lied to me!"

"But now I'm telling the truth!" She tried to keep her voice low so as not to attract attention, but it was getting difficult. "I don't want you hurt—any of you. You can yell at me all you want later, but for now we need to go."

He stared at her for a few long seconds, anger in his green eyes. Finally he said shortly, "Wait here." She stepped aside as he brushed past her and jogged across the room to where his cousin was standing and watching the conversation happening in the middle of the warehouse. Percy tapped Nico on the shoulder and said something in his ear, and even from where she stood Annabeth could see the alarm streak across Nico's face, feel the anger in his gaze as his eyes darted toward her for half a second. She saw Percy shake his head and nod toward the Stolls, and Nico glared at him before pulling his handgun out of his jacket and carefully approaching the rest of their team.

As Nico went to share the news with Harrison, Travis, and Connor, Percy came back over to Annabeth as her eyes scanned the shadows. She knew that Luke's team had to have realized by now that something was wrong, which meant one of two things: they would either abandon the mission and wait for a more opportune time, or they would move in anyway. And if she knew Luke at all, it would probably be the latter.

"This isn't fast enough," she whispered when Percy was within earshot.

He scowled. "If you didn't want us getting caught, maybe you shouldn't have told them about this." His expression had calmed, but his tone was stiff and icy. Behind the anger, she could feel the hurt in his voice, and that only made her feel worse. She would explain why she did what she did—and that she hadn't been lying about her feelings for him—as soon as they were all safely out of there.

Suddenly, Annabeth heard a loud scraping sound—like stacks of crates being dragged across a concrete floor. She and Percy both spun toward the noise as a gunshot blared, followed by a pained yell. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Connor drop the black suitcase and stagger backward, a hand over his upper right arm, as a team of at least a dozen black-clad, gun-wielding agents rushed in from the shadows.

"No," she said in a low voice as Percy growled in frustration and rushed off toward the center of the room. More gunshots fired, more crates were shoved aside, and a sudden and general chaos settled upon the room. Annabeth pulled her own gun from her waistband and quickly cocked it, holding it in both hands, before running farther into the room, not sure what she planned to do but knowing she had to help somehow.

"Travis!" she heard Harrison shout. "You know what to do!"

"But—Dad," Travis argued. He was standing over his brother, who was on his knees as blood soaked down his jacket sleeve.

But Harrison shook his head and yelled, "Go!"

Travis hesitated only a second, a frantic look in his eyes, before he grabbed the suitcase Connor had been holding and bolted toward the back wall. One of the masked CIA agents broke away and followed him. The agent raised his gun and fired. Travis ducked instinctively and Annabeth heard the bullet clang off something metal before Travis and the agent both darted out through the open forklift entrance and disappeared from sight.

When she turned her attention back to the others, she realized that the man leading the Centaur team had also been shot and was lying still on the floor. Two members of his team were making a stand, firing their weapons at the CIA agents, many of whom were hiding behind fallen storage crates and returning fire. A third Centaur member was locked in a fistfight with another agent. Their fifth teammate—as well as the black suitcase he'd been carrying—was nowhere to be seen.

Annabeth scanned the room quickly and saw Percy fight off two agents before ducking behind a stack of crates as a few more shot at him. Nico had a gun in each hand and was dodging in and out of hiding, firing at anything that moved. Harrison was standing back-to-back with Connor, and both were doing their best to keep the agents at bay and avoid being overtaken. Connor was holding his gun with his uninjured left arm, but he must have been right-handed because his aim was a bit shaky.

"What are you doing, Chase?" a voice Annabeth didn't recognize demanded. She spun around to find herself face to face with a masked agent. It wasn't Luke, she could tell, but beyond that she had no idea if she knew the guy. "You compromised the mission! Now we're gonna have to hope one of 'em talks in interrogation, 'cause—"

Without much second thought, Annabeth drove her fist into the agent's face, effectively shutting him up. He stumbled backward, surprised, and she darted forward after him. She drove her knee hard into his stomach, causing him to double over, and finished by whacking her elbow against the back of his head. He dropped to the ground, knocked out cold.

Well, no turning back now, she thought as she spun around, gripping her gun in her right hand. She raised it and fired at the nearest CIA agent, whose side was to her as he faced the center of the room. Her bullet hit him in the leg and he fell to the ground. Another turned toward her and fired, but she'd already dropped to her stomach on the floor. She rolled to the side and came up on her knees behind a fallen pile of boxes. She waited a few seconds before jumping to her feet and firing the rest of her round at the nearest group of agents, three of whom went down under her fire.

As she dropped back to her knees, pressing her back against the boxes and pulling a replacement magazine from her holster, Percy suddenly appeared beside her. He raised and cocked his handgun and for a wild second she was afraid that he would shoot her. Instead, he said urgently, "We've got to move for the back doors. The others are already heading out. We're gonna lure 'em into the open."

Annabeth nodded in understanding, feeling a tiny spark of hope that he had thought to fill her in on their plan. That had to mean that he still considered her to be on his side—even if only a little. "Go," she replied, snapping the magazine into place and cocking her gun. "I'll cover you."

He looked hesitant, like he wasn't sure if he should trust her not to shoot him in the back. She didn't say anything else, only looked into his eyes and tried to convey what she was thinking—that she was telling the truth. He must have gotten the message, because he gave her a brief nod and said, "Alright. Let's go."

Together, they climbed to their feet and darted around the side of the fallen pile of boxes. Harrison, Nico, and Connor were gone—probably outside already—along with many of the others. There were a number of fallen bodies about the warehouse, whether alive or dead Annabeth couldn't tell. She saw three of Centaur's members, including their team lead, and at least seven agents. Some were moving. Others weren't.

Not everyone had followed Nico and the others outside, Annabeth soon realized as bullets began flying in their direction. She and Percy ducked and dodged and returned fire. She landed a hit on the back of one of the remaining agents, and Percy shot another in the shoulder. When they reached the door, they saw Nico fighting two agents about twenty or so yards from the doorway. As she approached, she watched Nico drive his palm into one agent's nose, likely breaking the bone, and spin quickly to kick the other agent in the stomach. The second one doubled over, allowing Nico to smack her on the back of the head with the grip of his handgun, knocking her unconscious. The last agent standing ducked another swing at his face and scrambled backward, a hand trying to cover the blood pouring over his mouth.

As the agent backed away hurriedly, his gaze landed on Annabeth and he extended a finger toward her. "You're in with them now, huh?" he yelled. "You think you'll walk away from this? Atlas will have your head!" And with that warning, he turned and ran. And none of them went after him.

"Where are Harrison and Connor?" Percy asked sharply. He walked halfway across the pavement back to the warehouse, turning his head back and forth and examining the section of the lot that was lit by the row of industrial spotlights along the outside building wall.

"I don't know," Nico answered grimly, taking a few steps away from the unconscious agent beside him. "They were fighting off a couple guys when we got out here, then the next thing I knew they were gone. So were the guys fighting 'em."

"This is my fault," Annabeth said, her voice surprisingly dry and void of emotion. She backed up and leaned against a nearby forklift, eyes fixed in the direction the last agent had run off.

To her surprise, it was Nico who responded. "At least you told us, right? A little late, yeah, but it still got us prepared. Things could've been a lot worse."

Annabeth blinked, not having expected him of all people to stick up for her. She turned her head to give him a small, grateful smile, but it vanished instantly when her gaze fell on the tiny red dot of light hovering on the front of his shirt.

A laser sight.

"Nico, look out!" she yelled as loudly as she could, a cold feeling freezing her limbs and heart like ice. From where she stood yards away, she could just barely see his eyebrows knit together in confusion before his eyes followed her gaze down and widened in alarm. He took a step back, but it was too late. Three consecutive gunshots split the air, and all three bullets buried themselves in his chest.

"NICO!" Percy screamed. Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth saw him spin around, gripping his gun in both hands and aiming it at the warehouse roof. She heard six shots fire, and judging by the resulting grunt that echoed from the roof, at least one of them must have hit. But her eyes never left Nico as he staggered backward, a heartbreaking mix of shock and pain on his face. When he fell to the ground, Percy turned and raced toward him, skidding to his knees beside his cousin. The movement broke the ice encasing Annabeth's limbs and she forced herself forward, walking with leaden feet toward the others.

"Hey," Percy was saying, his voice shaking more than Annabeth would have ever thought possible. "Stay with me, alright? I'm gonna get help." He shook his head in what might have been disbelief. "Look, don't you dare die on me, man. You and me are all that's left—okay, we're in this together."

It couldn't possibly matter how much he pleaded. As Annabeth neared them, she could see how much blood had soaked through Nico's shirt—how much had pooled on the ground beneath him. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered—not that she'd finally chosen a side, or that she'd warned them about the ambush. It didn't matter that she'd just begun to accept Olympus as her friends. It didn't matter that she'd betrayed the CIA for their sake. It was all too late. She'd been worried all along that someone she had just begun to care about would be hurt. And now, because of her, someone had.

Nico's breathing had grown so slow and shallow that she could barely see him move at all. The pained expression on his face loosened and faded. His fingers twitched at his sides before relaxing against the bloodstained pavement. His eyes shifted like he wanted to look at the people hovering over him, but the muscles in his neck couldn't manage it. Another second passed, and what little light remained in his dark eyes vanished, his body falling still.

"Nico," Percy said tensely, his own breathing getting faster and more ragged in contrast. "Nico." He twisted his shaking hands in his cousin's shirt, his eyes racing back and forth, but it was no use.

Nico was dead.

Annabeth watched in silence as Percy lowered his head and screamed in frustration and anguish. His shoulders stiffened and his hands formed tight fists, the skin over his knuckles turning white from the strain. Annabeth took a step back, feeling like she'd been stabbed in the heart. His cousin—his brother in all but name—was dead because of her. She didn't even know his last name, and she'd killed him. She may not have pulled the trigger, but she had killed him all the same. And for what? A decision that had come too late? She'd cast aside the CIA, but in her failure to act in time she'd pushed Percy away as well. And now she was alone.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She knew it wouldn't mean anything, but she wanted to tell him the truth. Even just one last time.

Without looking up, Percy growled, "Get out." Annabeth breathed in sharply, the gravelly harshness in his voice digging like a scalpel into what little feeling she had left in her body. When she didn't move, he squeezed his eyes shut and roared, "GET OUT!"

That was it. It was over. Any feelings he might have had for her must have been shot through the heart along with his cousin, and her place by his side had faded to nothing more than a forgotten shadow.

So she turned her back, and she walked away—every step slow and deliberate, like a field of mines was buried beneath her feet and any second could see her world turned red in a fiery explosion. She walked because she didn't want him to think that she was running.

When really, anymore, running away was the only thing she could do right.

Well, that happened. This chapter was so hard to write, believe me. I'm mad at myself just thinking about it. But it had to be done. You'll see why later.

So leave me a review and agree that I'm a horrible person, haha. And don't think this story's over yet. Still got what, six chapters to go I think? Some good stuff comin' up.

See you next Thursday! Later days!

-oMM