Quentin

It took some convincing before Gareth allowed me and Matt to leave the facility so that we could return home. The incident had left us all shaken. Two Gods scrapping with each other and damaging the lab had not been on the list for day one of E.L.I.

Matt took a pair of copper cuffs with him in order to restrain Grayson again, although I wasn't sure how he planned to undertake that task. The sharp ache in my ribs that shot through me with every step was a vivid reminder of the fact that we were powerless when he was uncuffed.

The black smoky protrusions that came from Grayson had been fascinating, almost beautiful — like the rest of him. The violent nature of them had been well disguised, but I'd never be caught off guard by them again.

As we pulled up outside the house, a different train of thought took over. I prayed Holden wouldn't make a comment about my living arrangements, but that'd been a dream.

He let out a low whistle as we stepped out of the car. "You can afford this place with what Gareth pays us?"

Charlie was the only person who'd been welcomed to my home. Even Gareth had met me in my tiny flat in Oxford before I returned to London, and then I visited his office.

My cheeks burned, and I stared at the ground. "My family," I mumbled. "I inherited it."

I was grateful when he didn't press the matter any further. The mention of inheritance, the subtle slip of death, usually halted conversations. No one wanted to dig up the memories. Not that I'd have to dig far. My parents were always at the forefront of my mind.

Matt followed me silently as I walked up to the door of my parents' three-bed, detached house that was legally mine, even if I didn't see it that way. I knew I was lucky to have this home. I just wished it were under happier circumstances.

Stepping into the hallway, I wasn't sure what to expect, but the quiet that met me was foreboding. Two Gods had returned here after a vicious fight, and I was meant to believe that they hadn't continued when they arrived here?

"Hello?" I called out, slipping off my boots and leaving them in the hall. I pointed to Matt's feet, and he followed suit.

"Through here," a deep voice replied.

Matt and I walked into the living room, where the voice had come from. I could feel him brushing against my heels and pushed back on the rising irritation at his disregard for my personal space. When I entered the room, Hunter was sitting on my sofa, ankle crossed over his leg, calm and alone.

"Where is he?" I asked, eyes scanning the room, but there was no sign of Grayson.

"Cooling off," Hunter answered me, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "He shouldn't cause you any more issues."

Matt scoffed, standing beside me. I couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.

"I thought that was the promise you gave before you joined us down here," he said to Hunter.

I placed a hand on his arm, feeling the muscle tense under my touch. Antagonising the Gods wouldn't win us any favours. We'd experienced first-hand what happened when Grayson was unhappy with us, and I didn't particularly have any desire to see what Hunter was capable of if we pushed him.

"Why don't you settle in?" I suggested.

"I'd need to get some of my things," Matt told me. We'd come straight to mine from the institute with nothing more than what he'd brought to work that day. "I don't want to leave you."

"She'll be fine," Hunter assured him.

The doubt and distrust were evident in Matt's eyes, and even I wasn't sure I believed Hunter. How could we trust him when his brother had just viciously attacked us? The skin around Matt's neck was brutally red from where Grayson had wrapped his powers.

"I designed this initiative," Hunter reminded the both of us. "I won't jeopardise its progress by being as reckless as my brother."

"How are we meant to trust anything you say?" Matt voiced his concerns.

"Gareth wouldn't have let him come here alone if he thought Hunter was a threat," I pointed out, brain kicking into gear.

Gareth hadn't argued with Hunter when he said he was leaving for my house. He was hosting the head of the Gods and they'd been in contact intermittently for years. If Gareth believed Hunter could be trusted, then I was cautiously inclined to agree.

I watched carefully as Hunter picked himself up from the sofa and straightened the cuffs on his white shirt. He had a distinct energy about him compared to Grayson. Calmer. More mature. Regal. Hunter was the God of forgiveness and protection — the God who led them all. He would not harm us unless he had a reason to.

"I'll be okay," I told Matt firmly. "Just don't be long."

He looked at me for a moment and I could almost see the fight he was having with himself. Matthew liked to be the saviour. He loved telling a tale that cast him as the hero.

Eventually, he gave me a curt nod. "You get in touch with me or Gareth, if anything happens. Understand?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. We had just suffered through the same experience at the hands of Grayson, and yet he had dubbed me the more fragile of the pair. If Grayson or Hunter expressed their anger again, I wasn't sure I'd have the chance to reach for the phone and call for help.

"Scott," Matt said, looking down at me. "I'm being serious."

"I know," I placated him as softly as I could. "I'll call you if anything happens. Spare keys are on the rack in the hall."

He held my gaze for a moment before reluctantly leaving the room.

Slowly, I turned my attention back to Hunter. His pale blue eyes watched my movements, and my mouth ran dry with nerves as the sound of the front door clicking shut sounded through the house.

"I can't apologise enough for my brother's behaviour," Hunter said before the silence could swallow us.

I felt awkward standing there with a God; the God apologising to me. His gift was forgiveness, and yet he was seeking it from me. And how was I meant to deny it? Even if Hunter's motives were driven by his ambition for the initiative to be successful and nothing to do with my wellbeing, I appreciated the gesture.

"You don't need to apologise," I said, my mouth still dry.

Absent-mindedly, my feet led me past him and into the kitchen. The tiles were cool through my socks. Hunter's footsteps sounded behind me, solid and loud. I gestured towards the wooden kitchen table that had once hosted Scott family dinners.

"You did nothing," I said.

"I may not have been directly involved, but Grayson is my responsibility," Hunter explained, ignoring my offer of a seat and standing with his arms folded across his broad chest. "I know he isn't happy about the arrangement, but I was hoping he may at least cooperate." He ran a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. "Our positions are reliant upon mortals and their prayers. If fewer people pray to us, we lose power. The first step is to become a minor God and then we cease to exist."

The information he shared wasn't news. It'd all been laid out with the offer of the job. People prayed less, content with the worldly possessions they could gain themselves. What use were Gods when you could resolve issues in mortal ways? Retail therapy never ghosted you. I understood the apathy that came with being just another number in the long line of sinners to the deities.

Hunter was eager to nip the issue in the bud and believed that a better understanding of the Gods would draw people to them again. I wasn't sure I agreed. Biology might prove they were divine, physics might explain the mechanisms behind the powers they possessed, but how did you install faith in people when you'd let them down time after time?

"Grayson." Hunter sighed. "Well, I guess mortals will always be vengeful."

Hunter led the Gods, both elite tier and minor, because humans relied on him and asked for forgiveness and protection. They didn't just ask those things for themselves but also on behalf of loved ones, and that gave him strength that rivalled the others. He would have been the natural choice for a leader, but that didn't mean the others weren't relied upon.

"He doesn't believe in the need for integration or understanding," Hunter continued. "He thinks he's above it all." The frustration seeped into his words.

"Yeah," I muttered. "I got that vibe from him."

A sad smile crossed Hunter's face. "I hope you won't judge us all based on my brother's actions."

"I really can't judge you," I said, leaning back against the granite countertop gently, trying not to irritate my ribs where the pain was still prominent.

"Ah, yes. My wife sensed that about you. You don't pray. Haven't relied on us. Not quite a believer."

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The brazen undecidedness I held towards them dimmed when faced with a God so reasonable. But Hunter didn't appear to be angry with my lack of belief. He looked tired.

Unsure what to tell him, I turned away and grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter, uncorking it with a pop. I opened the cabinet and reached up for a glass, but the motion made me gasp as the pain shot through my ribs.

"Fuck," I breathed and braced myself against the worktop. "Sorry." I wasn't sure if cursing in front of a God counted as a sin.

"Don't worry." Hunter dismissed my apology with a wave of his hand. He crossed the space in a few steps and stood in front of me. "Would you allow me?" He nodded towards my ribs, and I felt the panic flood my chest and my muscles tensed.

My grip on the neck of the bottle grew tighter as I stared ahead at Hunter's chest. When Grayson had unleashed his powers, it had been unanticipated violence. I wasn't entirely sure if I could trust Hunter, but he didn't come across as threatening. Grayson challenged us all off the bat, but Hunter had exercised reason and understanding. He was softer and more welcoming.

"Okay," I agreed quietly.

Hunter moved a step closer and placed his hands on either side of my waist. The blood rushed to my cheeks again at how intimate the touch felt. It was difficult to ignore the beauty they held. So effortless. So flawless. It clouded my rational thought until I forced myself to think about the experimental set-ups I had to prepare for the week.

A bright, electric blue glow enveloped his hands, and I tried to break away from his touch.

"It's my aura," he explained, holding me in place. "I will not hurt you."

Before long, I felt warmth run through me. It felt like a spring day when the sun kissed my skin and I wished it wouldn't disappear into the horizon. It reminded me of summers that belonged to my childhood, spent on white sand beaches with my brother and parents — luscious and lazy.

After a few moments, Hunter let go of me and I released the breath I'd been holding, along with the nostalgia.

Tentatively twisting my torso, the pain no longer existed. "Thank you," I said in disbelief, patting along my ribs, trying to find a fault in his healing hands.

"It's the least I could do," he replied. "How would you phrase it?" he mused. "This needs to be a symbiotic relationship."

"It needs to be mutually beneficial," I defined.

"Precisely."

I lamented the fact I hadn't been placed with Hunter and envied all of those who had. He was compliant, and that would lead to success. Grayson didn't want symbiosis. He wanted to make us suffer because this was all beneath him.

"I'll take my leave," Hunter said, stepping away from me. "I'm sure my wife is waiting for a full report on what happened today."

"Thank you again for everything you've done," I said to him, feeling like the words weren't enough but having nothing more to give.

He smiled in return and left in the blaze of blue that belonged to him.

Later in the evening, when Matt returned to the house, I was curled up on the end of the sofa with my laptop, scrolling through journals.

He asked, "Is everything okay? You're alone."

"Not alone," I corrected him.

Somewhere in the house, I assumed upstairs, lived our test subject. The residual fear remained and stopped me from climbing the stairs and seeking solace in my room. There was a thin line between bravery and foolishness. I wasn't about to cross it for a second time in twenty-four hours.

"Hunter left?" Matt asked.

"Yes."

"And you haven't seen —"

"Quiet as a mouse."

"How long do you think that'll last?"

The million-dollar question. Grayson didn't strike me as the type of person who took things lying down.

Chaos.

Destruction.

Vengeance.

The words tumbled over each other until they blended into one. Grayson wasn't a docile and domesticated breed. He thrived in a dark wilderness that most people would run from. Sitting in a room and reflecting on his actions wasn't even a remote possibility. Something was brewing. I'd have bet money on that fact.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I muttered, regretting not taking full advantage of my chat with Hunter.

It was going to be a restless night.