Apollo was pacing. And seething. And thinking about all the ways you could catch and punish a Titan.
He needed his arrows. He needed Artemis to be awake. He needed to be stronger. If he went after his Muse right now, as he was, he had no doubt that he’d be torn to pieces. He probably wouldn’t even get through the front door.
He heard the laptop hitting the wall first. The sound startled him out of his murderous thoughts.
The scream nearly stopped his heart. He felt his blood run cold, felt himself freeze up.
Hyacinthus.
Zephyros.
His weapon of choice was still missing, but Apollo didn’t care and didn’t think about the fact that he was running headfirst into Hyacinthus’ room unarmed. If he had to, he’d rip the West Wind’s throat out using nothing but his teeth.
Apollo was surprised to find Hyacinthus alone. He thought for sure that…
“Kevan,” he yelled, hoping to catch is attention, hoping that his voice alone would be enough to stop the screaming.