Will wanted to tell her that he wouldn't let it happen again. He wanted with all his battered heart to be able to say those words and make them true.
He couldn't. It would be like Clio telling him that she wouldn't let the Sheriff touch him again. He'd never doubt that she meant it, but he'd know it for an impossibility. It didn't matter how tightly she tried to shield him; the Sheriff was the Sheriff and he would always come after them. And when greedy, entitled bastards laid their eyes on a muse, didn't matter if she was a daughter of men or a daughter of Zeus, they would always see a thing that they could claim and command.
He couldn't tell her he wouldn't let it happen when he'd never even seen this coming, none of them had, and he'd been damn fucking useless when it came to bringing her home.
His right hand was still wrapped in hers. He raised the other to touch her cheek – the movement deliberate, so as not to surprise her; slow, in case she objected; gentle, fingertips brushing her skin with the lightest of touches.
"I don't know if it'll happen again," Will admitted, hating the truth of it. "But if it does... Clio, by god, I will fight whoever it takes." His voice was soft, but absolutely adamant. "And if I can't stop it, I'll damn well never stop searching. I won't give up till I find you. And," he added, just as firmly, "I will never stop loving the sound of your voice."