Apollo let him hang there for a long, suffering moment, let him feel the full weight of the silence (well, Apollo's silence anyway) as his hand tightened just a fraction round his throat. But it was a throat; a fraction of extra pressure on that part of anyone's anatomy never felt like just a fraction. He wanted Avery to feel it, wanted this feeling seared into his memory to recall at the slightest provocation.
And then, because he still wanted Avery to have a memory, Apollo set him back down on his feet, freeing his throat from the death grip. "Tell me you understand not to go near Brody again, not to write about him, not to speak about him. Make it convincing. I'm the god of truth," Apollo added, flexing his fingers. "So no lies."