Birthright E-Book

Chloe Moore

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

What happens when you find out your earliest descendants, are gods?
Stories of gods and magic, of romances and villainy, have been
interwoven with the fiction created many mortal cultures, each
miscommunicating, and forgetting entirely, the history of a time
where the world was inhabited by curious creatures, legendary
beasts, magical spirits, and of course, the Gods themselves.

That is, until, the world is once more introduced to the magic and
chaos of our ancestors. When multiple Legendary Creatures escape
the Underworld - after the last remaining mortal entrance is
discovered and opened - the mortal realm is once more thrust into
an uneasy co-existence where humans are no longer at the top of
the food chain, and as magic spreads out further and further into
the world, the people of the world find themselves looking for
someone to help, for a Champion of the modern age.

A Hero.

Leseprobe

Chloe Moore

Birthright

Birthright is the story of a woman’s struggle with her past, and her path to growth, adversity, and acceptance with the help of new friends, legendary characters, and through confronting the trauma experienced in her past with the love she craves in her present. Birthright is a story filled with action, drama, laughs, and tears that will keep you engaged from start to finish.BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

PRELUDE

The history of our ancestors is mostly a mystery to us in the modern world. Before the written word, came an oral history that was passed down from one generation to another, keeping alive the memories, beliefs, and traditions of our forefathers.

Stories of gods and magic, of romances and villainy. Over time these stories were interwoven, miscommunicated, or forgotten entirely. Not through any fault of our own, but through the subtle tricks and slips orchestrated by the “Divine Trickster” himself, Hermes. The magic of our world was slowly lost to both time and science - which sought to give explanation to the extraordinary - where such miracles would previously be attributed to the gods and heroes of old.

It was heroes such as Theseus, Heracles, Jason, Atalanta, Perseus, and more, who all played their part in cleansing the world of its Legendary Beasts, while also unwittingly causing the nymphs, the Seers, and the rest of the lesser magical mythical creatures to go with them. Now all are relegated to the visions and hallucinations of weary, delirious travellers, or forced to live in their rigid forms: trees, lakes, mountains, winds, and seas.

As our society progressed and evolved through time, our reliance on such entities dwindled. And so, with the defeat of the last great beast, humanity earned its independence from the whims of the Gods.

That is, we had done – until five years ago.

During an archaeological dig on an ancient silt lagoon near the village of Myloi, on the Argolic Gulf of Greece, a discovery was made that would change not only the landscape of the world as we know it, but also our beliefs. A peculiar structure was found hidden within a concealed cave on the lagoon’s edge. This structure, unknown to the archaeologist who found it, would soon prove to be a long forgotten - and the last – mortal entrance to the Underworld.

Hundreds watched the structure’s opening live through the archaeologist’s University social media feeds, and since then billions have seen the broadcasted feed. It has become the most viewed video footage the world has ever known, seen by anyone with a smartphone within months of its original broadcast.

James Bailey and his team spent a little over three months getting the calcified door to a position where it could successfully be opened without compromising the integrity of the structure. When that hinged slab finally fell inward, the team were greeted by a thick plume of black smoke, escaping from deep within the open cave. Then, after a few suspenseful seconds, from out of the smoke Dr Bailey was launched into the air from the doorway’s entrance to a pile of rocks over eighty meters away, breaking his ribs and his collarbone, fracturing his pelvis, and inducing a coma.

Before the footage cuts out, three separate, large forms are seen moving through the smoke before shooting off into the sky, before a fourth launches itself towards the camera, terminating the transmission. Whilst none of the crew who witnessed the opening of the doorway survived to say just how many of these creatures escaped, we do know what escaped.

Creatures of great power and importance in our history, never believed to exist as tangible beings - at least until they stood before us all, in all of their resplendent glory.

Only one of these beasts was immediately confirmed, and that’s only because it automatically resumed the role of its legend: the guardian to the now-open door to the underworld.

The Lernaean Hydra.

In the five years that followed the release of the creatures - dubbed “The Catastrophes” by the Greek government - each of the world’s leaders and governments attempted to subdue and defeat the Hydra, both on their own and with other international agencies. But all to no avail.

Thousands eventually lost their lives attempting to pacify the creature, only to have either their armies or vehicles melted by its acidic spittle, or eaten by one of its many heads. As time wore on the beast was eventually left alone, allowed to reside in the lake, which has since refilled with water and mixed with deadly poison secreted from the Hydra’s skin.

The Governments no longer want to waste their time and resources attempting to defeat not just the Hydra, but the other creatures that have since started to appear and wreak havoc on settlements across Greece. Instead, they’ve decided to pass on such challenges to the public, using international subsidies as incentives for those brave enough to heed the call.

These individuals have come to be known as Champions: whose call to adventure inspires them to train to fight against these mythical creatures, helping to secure populated areas from intrusion and act as the first line of defence in the event of an attack conducted by any of the creatures. The government salary doesn’t hurt, either. In the four years since Champions entered into the mainstream, there has only been one widely known to the world with any real sense of recognition.

Kieran Corrigan.

What had set him apart from others, though, would ultimately be his downfall. Kieran was the first person to singlehandedly ‘defeat’ one of the larger ‘Class B’ creatures, capturing it and posting it to his live-stream on the Government’s ‘Champions App’ service.

He gave hope to people.

For a few short days, at least.

Kieran had defeated a curious giant, who’d made his way down from his home in the mountains and attacked the town of Kantia, after being aggravated by a group of children playing on the town’s outskirts. They’d bombarded the giant with stones from their slingshots. When Kieran subdued the giant, rather than letting it peacefully return to its home in the mountain, he took it upon himself to behead the creature - then, to add further insult to both the giant and the other mountain folk, he placed the giant’s head on a pike, facing the mountain, as a warning to other creatures who might have similar ideas about attacking the settlement.

What Kieran and the rest of the town didn’t know is that the giant was the love of a mountain nymph, named Liihn.

Prior to these events she’d been quite lovely, even visiting the town occasionally herself and finding no issue with the mortals residing there. However, the day she went searching for her paramour when he hadn’t returned, her heart was destroyed on finding his head displayed grotesquely at the town’s exit.

Her retribution was swift, and equally gruesome.

Heading into the town, posing as an old lady, she searched idly for information about the person who had killed the giant. She didn’t need to search long. The attention of the village residents had since gone to Kieran’s head. He’d been regaling them with tales of the ordeal at a local pub on a daily basis since the day it happened. The people of the town were all too ready to hear the story again and again, which Kieran had since embellished and twisted with every retelling - despite the video evidence of the encounter being available for all to see.

That night, an old lady listened from the corner of the room as the Champion’s yarn was spun throughout the bar. Every untruth and exaggeration of the feat woven into the story, making Kieran’s achievement feel much grander than it actually was, served only to enrage the nymph further. As Kieran’s story came to an end, the crowd sent up a triumphant cheer for the gleeful Champion, but the crowd’s jubilant faces soon turned to horror. They watched Kieran’s body became rigid, slowly lifting from the table on which he’d been standing.

The whole bar watched impotently as they saw Kieran’s phone float up out of his pocket, switch itself on, and the live-stream service start up, before pointing itself towards his face. His face was pained, it was obvious he was struggling to move but unable to break free from the enchantment under which he had been placed.

A minute after his phone started up, the four million people watching the live stream saw the skin from Kieran’s face slowly peeling away from his skull, leaving only muscle tendons on display. His clothing dissolved in front of the whole bar, leaving him floating naked above a table, his skin being torn away further and further down his body, and in larger and larger clumps.

It was almost impossible not to watch.

His screams, chilling.

The world witnessed the horror of their short-lived Champion left floating in the air, skinned alive in front of a terrified crowd and an even more horrified live audience. The world would only ever know his killer from the wink she gave the camera, during her brief appearance at the end of the broadcast.

That night, a Champion died, and a whole village was petrified by a jilted nymph.

This was - and still is - the worst recorded curse the world had known since the age of magic was reintroduced to the mortal realm. It served as a warning to the world as a whole.

The divine and magic creatures are not to be tested.

Soon after Kieran’s death, much of the Greek population attempted to leave, or reluctantly stayed, living in fear. The population of mystical and malevolent creatures in the country has become more and more dense over the five years since the door opened, which has in turn has caused many more to flee to the larger cities, or from the country entirely, to lands further afield, unaffected by the influence of magic.

Unaffected for now, at least.

Champions continue to be hired to ensure that the individuals who stayed behind, or who cannot afford the move, are kept safe. The uncovered doorway to the Underworld is no doubt the epicentre of the madness that the world has witnessed over the last five years.

The closer to the door you get, the higher the number of creatures you are likely to encounter, each creature looking to meddle in the lives of mortals after their long hiatus in the realms of obscurity. Almost at breaking point, the world is desperate for a conclusive solution to the menace that plagues the Mediterranean. Whilst all these Champions are well and good for holding the mythical creatures at bay, the world needs a more permanent solution.

We don’t need any more Champions.

We need a Hero.

CHAPTER ONE

It’s a warm evening at the end of January, the nights slowly growing shorter as the world once more veers toward springtime.

Rainey Chamberlain is working late at her office in Central London. Having spent her day putting the finishing touches to a large project presentation, she’s become lost in the final adjustments, and doesn’t realise the time until it’s far later than she would normally end her working day.

When she finally noticed the hour, she starts to panic.

Her office situated against the back wall of the media company’s top-floor workspace, between the Chief Marketing Executive and the company’s main meeting rooms. Packing away her laptop and collecting the rest of her possessions from the coat stand in the corner of the office, Rainey’s mind starts to race as she exits her glass workspace, locking the door behind her. As the door clicks locked, Rainey places her bag on the ground beside her and throws her jacket around her shoulders, and shrugs it into place. She pulls up the zip before taking a breath to compose herself, making her way through the floor’s dimly lit cubicles of the work-floor, toward the bank of elevators in the building’s centre. As she presses the “Call Lift” button, she looks down and checks her watch.

18:45.

I’m so bloody late, she thinks, shifting uncomfortably in place, anxious awaiting the lift’s arrival.

Rainey is what many would consider to be ‘traditionally’ good looking. Her hair is a golden brown with natural curls which fall just below her shoulders. Her eyes are deep blue pools, framed by a sparse spread of dark orange freckles which spatter across her nose and onto each cheek, housed on a canvas of perfect porcelain skin. She has never been the biggest fan of her appearance. She chooses instead to hide away her natural beauty from the world, behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses and clumsily tied up hair, making every effort to look as plain and invisible as possible.

The elevator lets out a ‘Ding’, reaching its destination. The doors in front of Rainey slide open. Hesitantly, she looks up from her feet to inspect the small box. It’s empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, she steps in and presses the green “G” button.

“Hold the lift please!” a voice calls out to Rainey, across the office.

She recognises the man’s voice and her anxiety steadily starts to spike. She hammers the “G” button, in the hope beyond hope that the door closes in time. Alas, the patter of hurried footsteps along the stone floor rapidly approach and Rainey’s frantic jabs at the button aren’t enough to prevent the inevitable. Just when the doors finally start to close and a sense of relief washes over her, it is quickly snatched away when a leather case is placed in the way of the closing doors; forcing them to reopen, and a rushed man to enter.

“Oh?” The man stops suddenly, realising who is in the elevator. “Hello, Rainey. What are you doing here so late?”

James is the Systems Architect for “Modulus”, the Web Development Company for which they both work.

“Hey, yeah.” She edges to the corner of the box, keeping her sights fixed firmly on the floor in front of her. “It looks like the site’s new design integration project is going to be running to the wire, thanks to Ade’s insistence on adding new features last minute. I lost track of time putting together my notes for tomorrow’s stakeholder presentation.” Her hands anxiously grip her bag, clinging to the corner of the lift as it slowly hums down toward the lobby.

“Ugh,” James exclaims, leaning his head back and exhaling, exasperated. “The sooner that project’s over with, the better. It’s causing my guys more hassle than its worth. Oh, how’s Jake?”

There’s a pause between them, an awkward silence filling the space between them. James looks over at Rainey, who is now stood up a little straighter, her eyes fixed to the doors, her hands grasping steadfastly to her bag, her knuckles white.

“I know. It’ll all be over soon though, hopefully,” she finally manages. The room is filled with the elevator’s soft ‘Ding’ once more as the doors open up to the large, stately building’s respectable lobby.

James holds out his hand, allowing Rainey to exit first, an opportunity she jumps at, hurrying past James to leave the small room and the conversation she didn’t really want to engage in right now.

“Have a lovely evening!” she calls back over her shoulder, as she rushes to the exit of the building. She smiles at the security guard as she passes his desk, out the revolving door and down the street, checking her watch as she moves at speed through the busy London streets.

18:52

Agh! I’m going to miss it! She thinks.

Her pace quickens from a fast walk to a steady jog, her heels hindering her potential to pick up any real speed – regardless, they don’t prevent her from trying.

18:59.

It’s only a few minutes to the station, which she reaches in good time, but as she rounds the corner to the station’s entrance she is caught off-guard by a cyclist riding on the pavement, who startles her into stopping suddenly and stepping sharply back on her heel, breaking the heel of her shoe in the process, and twisting her ankle. Rainey falls to the ground in agony, clutching at her foot, the pain almost unbearable.

Almost.

“Sorry!” The man’s voice calls back toward her as he trails off into the darkness. Despite having seen her fall, and call out in pain, the cyclist continues on without even so much as a backward glance toward her.

“Ffffffffuck...” she whispers to herself as she lets go of her ankle and removes her shoe. She’s only on the pavement for a moment or two before her mind clicks back to the time, and she attempts to lift herself back up onto her feet.

She struggles up on her good foot, but when she tries to apply pressure to her injured limb she stumbles and falls back down to the cold, hard ground. Again, she checks the time.

19:05.

“There’s still time, the train might be late,” she thinks, before trying to stand once more – though this time she’s aided by an arm that wraps under her left shoulder, which she leans into as she hoists herself up to her feet. As she reaches her feet, a second, smaller, arm slides under her right shoulder and steadies her.

“Are you alright?” the man under her left arm asks, as Rainey tries to put pressure onto her twisted ankle.

“I can’t believe that bastard didn’t stop,” the woman on her right says, as they attempt to console Rainey.

“Thank you, yes, I’m quite alright,” she replies, obviously lying, and just a little embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I’m very late and I need to catch my train.” She tries to pull herself away from the bemused couple.

“Don’t you think you should rest your ankle before rushing off?” says the woman, relinquishing Rainey’s arm.

“I’ll be fine, thank you so much for your help.” Rainey hobbles off toward the station, the pressure passing through her ankle serving agony with every step, but she pushes forward until she finally reaches the station. She searches the departure boards frantically for her train, only to see that it no longer featured on the board, and that the next available train home is forty minutes away.

“Shit.” She struggles to hide her frustration.

Tears form in her eyes as her mind drifts to home and what’s waiting. It’s a minute or so before her mind begins to register the pain in her ankle as it flares, having stood on it absentmindedly as her mind races from searching, to panic, to fear, to acquiescence. Limping forward, she makes her way over to one of the rail staff and does her best to explain what’s happened, asking if he might have an icepack in the first-aid supplies to help with the swelling. The older gentleman helps her over to a vacant bench and sits her down, before wandering off to check the station’s supplies.

Rainey sits on the bench, her injured leg laid across the seats beside her, pain radiating up through her leg. She reaches down to massage the swollen joint, which only serves to exacerbate the pain, but in a kind-of good way.

“’Ere ya go, Miss. Get that on your ankle.” the old man says, as he returns a few minutes later with some ice in a bag wrapped in a tea-towel, holding it out for her to take.

“Thank you.” she responds, before being forced to wince in pain as the ice reacts with her skin, and her aggravated ankle makes her very aware of its displeasure at being harmed.

“I’ll come get ya when your train’s ready.” the man says, before making his way back to his post.

As she waits, her mind drifts back and forth between the presentation she’d been working on and her partner waiting for her at home. She could feel herself becoming overwhelmed as her thoughts turn to Jake. She had meant to message him earlier in the afternoon, but the opportunity slipped by as she became more and more enraptured by her work.

“He’s going to be so mad.” She thinks, as she reaches into her bag to retrieve her phone, a Nokia 130 that he bought for her. She wasn’t allowed a smart phone: they have ’too much temptation‘, according to Jake.

“Oh wow, now that’s a blast from the past.” A voice says from behind her.

Rainey looks up from her phone to see the young couple that helped her up a few minutes ago.

“Oh, yes. I try to keep myself away from social media. This is the best way I’ve found.” She lies.

“How are you feeling?” The small woman asks, her face awash with concern as she stares at Rainey’s ankle.

“Oh, I’m fine... it’s just, twisted up pretty good.” She responds. “The man over there got me some ice to put on it, I’m hoping the swelling subsides a little before the next train home arrives.” Rainey turns a little to see them better.

“That’s good, you had us worried when you ran off.”

“I’m sorry, I was hoping to catch the 19:03 train, but I missed it.” She drops her head, refocusing on her phone.

“Well, if you need anything in the meantime, we’ll be around for a bit.” The man says, as he gently pulls his partner away toward one of the food vendors, the woman placing a hand on Rainey’s shoulder as she’s ushered away.

Rainey pulls up the messages app on her phone and types out a message before reviewing it.

“Jake, I lost track of time at the office and missed the last peak train home.

Next train at 19:50. See you soon.”

She hesitates to press send.

She’s unsure as to which would be worse - sending Jake the update late, or not at all? Maybe she could pretend to have lost her phone at work. Or perhaps she simply left it in one of the meeting rooms at some point during the day, and forgot to retrieve it before going home? So many options present themselves to her, as she loses herself in the decision. Ultimately, she knew that there was no right answer. She was a poor liar, so would be unable to lie about the phone. He would know instantly, which would serve only to make matters worse. No, she would simply have to bite the bullet, be honest, and accept whatever came next.

He might have had a good day?

“Miss.”

Rainey is shocked back to the station by the old man’s hand as it presses her shoulder.

“Your train’s arrived miss, I’m here to take you to the platform.” The man says, motioning towards a wheelchair he’s brought up from the station’s medical office.

“I... Thank you. You’re too kind.” She responds, swinging her leg down from the bench and pushing herself up onto her good foot, before easing herself into the wheelchair. She’s ushered through the barricades with the platform attendant, who wheels her to the first unreserved carriage.

“Are ya ‘right ta jump up? Or will ya be needin’ ‘elp?” He asks as he parks her in front of the closed doors.

“I, I think I’ll be fine,” she responds. “It’s not as painful anymore, just a little tender.” She pulls herself up from the chair and turns towards the man.

He offers her a smile, which she returns in kind.

“Thank you, you’ve been a real help.”

“The Nineteen, Fifty-Five service to Horsham is now boarding from Platform Six. If you intend to use this service, please proceed to the platform now.”

The pre-recorded voice echoes through the station.

“Looks like gen’ral boardin’s started. Safe travels miss,” the man offers, before pulling the chair away from her and turning back toward the main station.

Rainey opens the door to the carriage, sits in the first available window seat and waits for the rest of the seats around her to be filled with other patrons of the service.

When the train eventually starts its slow departure from the platform, Rainey breathes an uneasy sigh as her thoughts return once more to home.

CHAPTER TWO

A taxi pulls up to the modest three-bedroom detached home in Broadbridge Heath just before nine, forgoing Rainey’s usual cycle home from the station thanks to her injured ankle, and without the luxury of time. As she exits the cab, she notices that her heart has decided to take up residence in her throat, beating loudly in her ear, and her mind regresses to similar instances of her tardy arrivals home.

As she walks up the short driveway, she hopes beyond hope that he simply isn’t home, and that she could just go about her evening routine in peace before bed.

Unfortunately, this evening, luck is not on her side.

She reaches the front door, unlocks it with her key, and crosses the threshold into her home, heels in hand. Her ankle still swollen, walking on it once more irritating the injury, she hobbles to the kitchen to get some frozen peas from the freezer. As she rounds the corner past the oven, she is greeted by Jake, sat at their kitchen table, casually reviewing his phone.

“Hi honey,” Rainey offers rather cheerily to her silent, stoic, partner. He ignores her greeting for a few seconds before eventually breaking his gaze is from his phone, and raised to see the dishevelled Rainey. His eyes are dark, but are soon brightened on seeing her hobbling on her horrid, discoloured, ankle.

“Oh shit,” he chuckles slightly. “What happened to you?” He pushes away from the table, and makes his way over to her.

“I was rushing for the train and my heel slipped, I think I’ve sprained it.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he starts, opening up the freezer door and reaching in for a bag of something frozen before wrapping it in a towel. “Come here.” He beckons her toward him, but walks forward to meet her halfway. With the cold compress in his left hand, he wraps his right arm under Rainey and lifts her from the floor and cradles her in his arms.

He carries the weary Rainey upstairs to their bedroom, where he places her on her side of the bed, and helps her to remove her jacket, before positioning her legs up on the bed. He takes the two of the pillows from his side of the bed, and places them under the calf of her damaged ankle, elevating it, then places the wrapped bag of peas onto the inflamed joint.

Rainey winces from the cold, but he continues to hold it firmly against her skin.

“Don’t move, I’ll be back in a minute.” Jake says, getting up from the bed and making his way out of the bedroom, across the landing to the bathroom.

Rainey soon hears running water in their bathtub, a few moments later, Jake returns, bathrobe in hand. The expression on his face having changed also, from that of benevolent concern, to a malevolent scowl.

Now comes the part she hated most: the ‘talk’.

“You know the rules. Six Thirty. No later.” He throws the robe onto the bed, revealing a switch in his hand, which he’d cut from one of the trees in the park a few months ago.

“I’m sorry, I was working on the design integration and lost track of ti...”

*SNAP*

Jake whips the switch down across Rainey’s near-side upper thigh as hard as he’s able, leaving a welt in her skin, visible under her tan tights after just a few seconds. Rainey lets out a small whelp, but no more.

She knows better.

She retreats into her head, focusing on something else, anything but the pain.

“Excuses, excuses,” Jake casually continues, “The fact that you would go so far as to put on this display, and to hurt yourself in the process, I’m disappointed.”

Jake takes Rainey’s skirt in both hands, and with one almighty tug, he tears the garment in two, right up to the waist, where he struggles to rip through the thicker material at the skirt’s waistband. Rainey tries to help by undoing the button at the skirt’s side, but receives a kiss on the cheek from the back of Jake’s hand for her troubles. When he’s unable to pull apart the waistband, Jake walks over to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room, on top of which resides Rainey’s small haberdashery, home to her large fabric scissors.

“Now, hold still.” Jake’s eyes are cold. Rainey lays frozen in panic, unable to protest as he opens the scissors and slowly glides one of the blades up her thigh, over her hip, and under the waist band, before snapping down, hard. He throws the separated pieces of fabric apart, exposing the bottom half of Rainey’s body to the cool air of the room.

“Take off your tops,” he tells her coldly.

“Jake, please...” Again she’s cut short with another swift back-hand to the side of her face. Always hard enough to hurt, but soft enough not to leave a mark.

“I won’t. Ask. Again.”

His words are stern, and Rainey knows instinctively that she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter, just as her mother before her believed there to be no way out. Rainey leans forward and pulls off her jumper, placing it beside her in a clump before unbuttoning her shirt, Jake’s ever-watchful eyes never leaving her form. She pulls one arm out of its sleeve, before removing the garment completely from the other side and placing it atop the jumper.

“Now, roll over.”

Again, Rainey complies without hesitation.

She has learned that opting to get it over with, and hoping beyond hope that her punishment is short and sweet is far easier than offering any kind of protest. Unfortunately for her, it had been a while since Jake was this riled up.

She obediently complies, rolling over onto her belly, and exposing her back to Jake, whose eyes start to explore the finely crafted history written across her skin in scars and blemishes of differing shapes and sizes.

He takes a moment to stand back and admire his handiwork, as a proud artist would their latest canvas.

*SNAP*

The switch tears through the air, and into Rainey’s shoulders. Again, the welt comes up almost immediately, the skin breaks causing her to leak small crimson dots along the embossed impression left by the blow.

*SNAP*

This time, the switch hits diagonally across her back, Rainey barely flinches, but her body clenches.

Jake looks down at her, disapprovingly. He prefers it when she calls out, he gets off on the feedback provided by a muffled scream, or the pleading cries of his partner.

Rainey offered nothing.

*SNAP* *SNAP*

*SNAP* *SNAP*

*SNAP* *SNAP*

*SNAP* *SNAP*

*SNAP* *SNAP*

He hammers at her back, her butt, and the top of her thighs, almost losing his composure in his pursuit for pleasure, but not quite.

Still unwilling to give him what he wanted, Rainey meets her breaking point and begins to sob softly into the pillow in which she had buried her face - unable to hold back after the tirade of blows, which have caused her entire body to throb with stinging pains.

“I do wish you wouldn’t force me to do this to you. The rules are there to be followed, you know that. Why must you be so disobedient?” Jake sits down on the bed, next to Rainey’s curled up body, and begins stroking her hair. “You know I hate to see you like this.”

He undoes her bra strap and pulls off the rest of her underwear, before getting her to roll over onto her back once more and again taking her up in his arms. She holds on to him, clinging to the affection she so craved now that her punishment had been dealt.

At least, that’s what she thought.

Jake carries Rainey to the bathroom, steam from the bath is visible in plumes rising slowly from the water’s surface. The tub is quite full, complimented with bubbles, and the sweet smell of lavender wafts towards the couple.

“Now, you clean yourself up and relax,” Jake says, as he lowers the ‘love of his life’ into the water.

Her screams are shrill and ear-piercing.

Whilst the water isn’t exactly boiling, it’s far from being comfortably habitable by a human body. Combined with the fact that Jake has treated the water with a 500g bag of black-sea bath salts, the wounds on Rainey’s back react to the water immediately, and her skin screams as it’s submerged.

Rainey goes to scream again, but her mouth is quickly covered by Jake’s hand, which presses firmly and uncomfortably against her face, pushing her into the bath frame.

“Shhhh, little one, it’ll all be fine in a moment.”

Rainey flails impotently in the burning bathtub, her skin ablaze in its fiery waters. Completely incapable of securing any purchase against the tub with her feet, or with her hands, which try in vain to both remove Jake’s hand from her mouth and simultaneously pull herself out.

Alas, Jake is just too strong for her.

After trying for a few moments, Rainey relinquishes any hope of getting out and allows herself to go limp beneath Jake’s grip, trying desperately to take her mind off what her body was experiencing, and focus her attention elsewhere.

“There’s a good girl.” Jake’s patronising tone oozes through his words. “Now, clean yourself up. I know I don’t need to tell you what will happen if I hear the cold water running.”

With that, Jake gets up and leaves the room.

To be wholly honest, Rainey didn’t know exactly what would happen, and couldn’t really think of how he would top what he’d already put her through that evening. But she knew for sure she didn’t want to find out. Accepting her fate, she simply lies docile in the tub as he leaves her side, and makes his way back to their bedroom.

He wasn’t always this way.

In fact, when they first met, Jake was one of the most compassionate, most complimentary men she had ever had the pleasure of meeting - the complete opposite to the man she’d grown up despising. It was, after all, because of her father’s violence towards her and her mother that Rainey, as a child, found herself drawn to her books - and ultimately her education, which served as her escape hatch from hell. She would lose herself in the stories of gods and heroes; at least, those were her favourites. Later, she would hide in her school books, applying her already-high aptitude to her work, and doing everything possible to become invisible both at home and at school.

As she grew older, people started to take notice of her. Her beautiful face was impossible for newly sexualised boys to ignore, so she did everything she could to hide her features: from thick rimmed glasses like her fathers, to wearing unflattering clothes, she did anything and everything to fade into the background.

She completed her university career with a Ph.D. in Theology, alongside degrees in both Greek Mythology and Philosophy, a year early, having taken her A-Levels alongside her GCSE’s, and skipping College entirely, and headed straight to University. The demand for graduates with her degree, skill base, and general knowledge of Greek Mythology had skyrocketed since the Catastrophes had been released from the Underworld, and whilst she would have killed to go and witness the Lernaean Hydra in all of its glory in person, she had told herself that it wasn’t the life she wanted.

The spotlight didn’t suit her.

A simple nine-to-five, cosy nights in, and the occasional holiday with a doting partner, should one present itself.

That was the life for her. No more, no less.

Three months after starting work at her current web development company, she thought that her meagre dreams had come true, when she met Jake. Jake had been a low-level designer assigned to the first major project that Rainey managed for Modulus. Whilst he wasn’t a particularly gifted designer, his beautiful green eyes, and the compliments he paid her during their morning meetings, more than made up for such trivial things. He would set her up for the day, filling her with confidence. This was a new experience for Rainey.

Her previous experiences of male attention had consisted solely of lewd comments, unwelcome touching, and crass solicitations.

Not to mention her father.

It was because of this treatment that she stuck to the game plan she had followed throughout middle-school, aiming solely to blend into the background of each room she occupied, which was no easy task for someone with her natural elegance.

When Rainey bought her home in Horsham, it made sense that Jake move in with her - though looking back, she could see it being more his decision than hers, having originally wanted a space of her own for a while.

The compliments dried up soon after Jake lost his job, though he didn’t really become mean until he was stuck at home all day, unable to find work, which was followed closely by him being unwilling to look for work. After all, having Rainey as a breadwinner he had no need to work. The violence started with backhanded comments about what Rainey would wear, whom she interacted with both in and out of work. He impressed upon her his deep unrest at feeling awful about not being able to contribute to the household.

Well, that last one was up for debate.

The first time he hit her, she’d told him that she wouldn’t be buying a bigger television for the living room. She had no real interest in it, aside from documentaries about Greece, so if he wanted a bigger screen for his games, he would have to supply it himself.

But this wasn’t acceptable to Jake.

He used what he’d learned about her childhood to compel her into subjugation, building upon the abuse and trauma inflicted by her father, his first gross misuse of her trust. Jake became just as much a monster as her father had been, possibly more so, and whilst she liked to think of herself as stronger than her mother - having no real monetary or material reliance on Jake to provide for her - she allowed him get away with treating her this way. Largely compelled by the abuse’s familiarity, it seems.

Ultimately, because she didn’t feel she deserved better.

She still doesn’t.

She could simply kick him out. Tell him to leave. They aren’t married, they have no kids together, there’s no profound obligation tying her to him other than her own feelings; toward him and towards herself. The shift in dynamic only really hit Rainey the first time Jake tied her to the bed and beat her with a belt across her back. That’s when she realised he was actively trying to recreate her childhood trauma, hoping to make her more malleable.

It worked.

Now, here she is, body burning in a bathtub more fit for cooking a lobster than hosting a human body.

She lies motionless in the bath for a good fifteen minutes before it cools sufficiently for her to actually move relatively freely, and without her skin complaining too much. She gives herself a quick clean. She tries to use her exfoliating sponge, but its harsh bristles are too painful for her irritated skin to handle, so instead she uses the sponge’s flat underside to gently massage the soap onto her skin.

When she eventually gets out of the tub, her usual porcelain skin is a deep red, like a sunburn. She gently pats herself down, wincing from the pain of each dab against her sensitive skin, before wrapping the towel around her bust. Then, after a deep breath, she makes her way out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom to finish drying off, and get ready for bed.

“There you are, now isn’t that better? Feeling all clean, fresh, and relaxed?”

Jake is lying on their bed, once more looking up from his phone, as Rainey removes the towel and starts to rifle through her chest of drawers for some underwear.

“You won’t be needing anything from that drawer,” Jake calls. “Come over here, I’ll keep you warm.”

Rainey sighs internally, trying not to let her feelings show through the smile she forces. She closes the drawer and walks over to her side of the bed, sliding into the cool Egyptian cotton sheets.

She knows what he expects, and wastes no time in getting to work. Caressing his body, pulling off his clothes, she uses her mouth on him, before rolling over and accepting him into her. This is now a routine which she has simply come to accept as the norm: no love, no affection, just obligation.

Every time he lays a hand on her, she dies a little inside. Every nice word, loving moment, or glimpse of the person she’d originally fallen in love with is now treated as the fleeting snowflake it’s become. Every tiny moment used, in her head, as justification for the bad times.

She would never admit, to anyone, that she hated her life - because she could never force herself to admit it to herself. But she does. In fact, she hasn’t been happy for a long time - but just like her mother before her, she is in too deep, and trapped by the love she once had for the person she now fears. Her love, her prison guard and her punisher.

As the night draws on, she lies in bed, wide awake, her body still throbbing from the sting of the new welts on her back. Jake snores loudly beside her.

When she eventually feels herself falling toward her dreams, she is jolted awake by bright light that fills the whole room, emanating from the half inch gap between the floor and her closed bedroom door.

CHAPTER THREE

Rainey rolls over to Jake and tries in vain to jostle him awake, but his loud snores are unrelenting, as the horrid man lies dead to the world, enraptured in a sound sleep of which he is most undeserving. As she shakes him, her eyes are momentarily drawn to a shadow moving slowly against the wall, facing her. At least, she thinks it’s a shadow. Her night-vision hindered by the blinding light now at her back, she tries to focus her vision on the image. As it starts to form more clearly into an anthropomorphic shape, she blinks - after which the apparition is lost to her.

Unable to rely on her ‘protector’, Rainey decides to tackle the problem head on and slides dubiously out of bed and towards the closed door. As she turns the handle and pulls it open her eyes are stung by the light, its intense glow almost audible in its magnificence.

Squinting through the pain, she grabs her robe from where it hangs on the door, exits her bedroom, and cautiously follows the opulent glow along the landing, downstairs, into the living room, where the glow starts to dim and she is greeted by the image of a man more beautiful than any she has ever known. Celebrity or acquaintance. His radiant features captivate her, his proportions and lineaments the very ideal of a certain kind of male beauty.

His fair complexion and golden curled hair frames a perfect, beardless face, atop a body that would put Adonis to shame, the envy of any who beheld it. Man or woman would fill with jealousy and lust that such a person existed.

He stands casually against Rainey’s fireplace, looking at the few photos she has on display. Standing at a little over nine feet tall, the man slouches a little so as not to hit his head on the ceiling. He is almost entirely naked. Wearing nothing but a long white cape, held in place by a single golden broach on his right shoulder and a small sheet that wraps dangerously loose around his waist and thighs.

Rainey struggles to gather her thoughts.

“Hello child.” The man’s voice is just as beautiful as the rest of him, his words melodiously dancing from his lips. Rainey’s legs almost give out from under her, mesmerised by the man’s sheer magnificence as he turns to face her.

“Worry not about that thing with which you share a bed, Hypnos has seen to it that we shall not be disturbed.”

“Hy...Hypnos?” Rainey says out loud, confused. “Th...The God of Sleep? That Hypnos?”

“The very same. He’s as troubled by the events of these past five years as the rest of us, so was more than willing to help.” The man walks toward Rainey, and as he moves, he starts to shrink down to a size more relative to his surroundings. I do apologise for appearing in your home, unannounced like this. It’s been a while since any of us have been allowed to visit you mortals, and finding a time and place that wouldn’t cause panic among you all is somewhat difficult and, truth be told, I wish the visit were under better circumstances.”

“H...Hang, hang on a moment. ‘Hypnos’? ‘You Mortals’? Just, who are you exactly?” Rainey asks, almost certain she already knows the answer before he speaks.

“Oh, I do apologise, I haven’t quite introduced myself. I am the god of mathematics, reason, and logic. Of poetry and medicine, knowledge, rhetoric, and enlightenment. I am Apollo, god of the sun and the light, of music and poetry, healing and plague, truth and prophecy.” Again, the words flowed through him in such a way that Rainey was almost incapable of keeping her wits about her, this spectacle that stands before her is most unbelievable after all.

Although, her jaw slackens, as the gravity of what he’s saying hits home. Here, in front of her, stood the subject of her university dissertation - well, half of it, with Apollo’s sister Artemis sharing the limelight of her words.

“You, you’re Apollo. One of the twelve Olympians? That Apollo?” She asks, her voice uncertain.

“The very same,” he smiles back at her, holding out a hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Rainey.”

Rainey simply looks at him confused.

“Okay... and, why are you so pleased to see me? I mean, I’m hardly a figure of importance in this world. Wouldn’t you be better off presenting yourself to some Champion?”

“What makes you think I’m not?” he counters.

“What? No?”

“Yes.” Apollo looks at her, his gaze unwavering. There is no denying that he’s deathly serious.

“You, Rainey Chamberlain, are the best suited mortal for this challenge. Your bloodline holds two links to the All-Father himself, one through me on your mother’s side, the other through Heracles on your father’s. And believe me when I say, you are the best suited person for this difficult task, you’re the only mortal who stands a fighting chance at surviving the challenges that lie ahead of you, there really is nobody else that will have your likelihood of success.”

“My likelihood of success? Wait, I’m your descendant? Like, you and I, we’re related? By blood? How is that even possible?” It was a lot of information to take in at once.

Her? A Champion? A Hero?

“How? How can I be most suited? I’ve never even thrown a punch. And what do you mean, ‘challenge’? You want me to fight those creatures swarming the Grecian Islands? Surely, you of all people should know how much I abhor violence, I mean, after my father...”

Apollo’s face changes.

His brow furrows as his words leave his mouth embittered, as though they had each been dipped in vinegar prior to their being spoken. “Your father suffered greatly from the legacy he inherited from Heracles. He allowed himself to be consumed when he couldn’t handle his lot. Much like your current... acquaintance.” Apollo looks up at the ceiling.

“You cannot fathom how I, and the rest of the Olympians, feel about this place.” He walks away from Rainey, opening out his arms and motioning around him.

“You mortals were given a utopia, then you were freed from the gods, allowed to go it alone so Zeus could observe you all, and look at how he was repaid? Before Zeus decreed that we could no longer interfere in the lives of humanity, we acted as the counterweight to the chaos of mortals. Well mostly. Now, we’re nought but a memory on the lips of the world, watching impotently as this beautiful planet is torn apart. Now, it also seems that my brother Hades has had enough of your squanderous ways, and is reaping his vengeance on this world by revealing a door to his kingdom, and releasing some of the most savage and powerful beasts the mortal realm has ever known. Not only that, but with each day that passes, the reach of the divine creatures - and the other magics previously prohibited here - expand, edging the world toward catastrophe, and with no heroes strong enough to push them back, the mortal world is likely to once more fall prey to them, as has already been seen in Greece, only now, you mortals have weapons that do more harm to yourselves than to the higher-beings you wish to remove.”

“It’s spreading? I thought all of that was stuck in and around the Grecian Islands?”

“Admittedly, it has taken longer to spread than we’d thought. The influence has currently spread to most of your European Countries, North Africa, and some nearby Asian lands. And as long as the door to the Underworld remains open, we Olympians are powerless to visit my brother’s domain to challenge his actions, thanks to Zeus’s decree. So the task must be completed by a mortal. Our champion. You.”

“I think you’re getting ahea...” Rainey attempts to interject, but is cut off by the Demigod, as he walks toward an armchair and sits himself down, exasperated.

“Zeus’s fascination with his mortals persists to this very day, which is causing him to grow anxious after the five years of turmoil created by Hades. He continues to watch in wonder at your capacity for good and for evil, how the lives of good people are corrupted by illness, violence, deceit, misery, and want.”

“Hang on, if ‘Zeus’, the King of the Gods, decreed that you couldn’t interfere with mortals, then how are you here? Aren’t you technically disobeying his decree right now? Is that even possible?” Rainey asks, confused.

“No, it’s not. And never should be. The decree stands. Had it not we would have simply bred with you to make more Heroes and would not have been forced to search out the cleanest bloodline. Honestly, it hurts to say but even I, the God of Seers and Prophecy, was unable to search out a string with ease. It’s taken almost three years. Now, well now we work with that which we have, and what we have is you.”

Rainey’s eyes narrow. Her head hangs down into her chest.

“But why? I can hardly look after myself. I mean, look at me! If you are who you say you are, then I’m sure you have seen what happened earlier? My whole life even? How am I supposed to accept this charge when I’m unable to even stand up to my own partner!?” Her words were impassioned, wrapped in shame, sorrow, and doubt. I’m no Hero.”

“There is only one thing that matters when it comes to differentiating between mere mortals, a champion, and a true hero; and that, is this.” Rainey feels a finger press against her chest, her eyes almost blind with tears, just as they always get when forced to reflect on her lot.

“You may not believe it now, but when the time comes, you will see. You’re no mere mortal, Rainey. I’ve seen many potential futures for you, and none of them have you as a victim if you accept this call. The Grecian Islands will make your blood bonds stronger, and you with them.”

“That’s all well and good, but I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can do it. You’ll have to find someone else.”

“You cannot deny your heritage, Rainey. Just as I cannot deny your wishes.” Apollo sighs.

“Once I leave, I will be unable to visit you on this plane again. Zeus only permitted this meeting as you are my child, and you’re not technically mortal due to your blood-line, therefore nothing is broken. So please accept this gift, in case you change your mind.” Apollo holds out his hand.

Rainey dries her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, and looks over at his hand, just in time so see a beautiful golden bow manifest in a flash of light.

“This is my bow. It has served me well in my time, and now I hope it will serve you just as well.” Apollo gestures toward his hand, and Rainey reaches out, and picks up the bow from out of his hand. She’s taken aback at just how light it is, despite looking as though it were forged from pure gold.

“It’s... weightless? It’s stunning.”

“Yes, the bow has been cursed with your name, so it will respond only to you. Nobody but you will be able to lift it, neither god nor mortal.”

“There’s no string?” Rainey looks up, once more confused.

“You’re no Hero?” Apollo counters with a joking smile as he places a hand on Rainey’s shoulder. She looks up from the bow to once more meet his eye. Regardless of how you think and feel about yourself, you’re the only one that stands a chance at reversing some the damage caused during these past five years. I wish you luck, Rainey, whatever path you choose. I truly hope you are able to find your happiness.”

He gives her one last smile, again causing Rainey’s knees to fall a little weak, before offering a cheeky wink and fading from the room in a glint of light, leaving Rainey in her living room, in the dark of night, holding on to the legendary bow of Apollo.

Suddenly overcome with tiredness and confusion at what she’d just experienced, hallucination or no, Rainey makes her way back up to her bedroom, bow in hand, and into bed. She slides the bow under the bed as she lays back, allowing Hypnos to work his magic on her as he’d done with Jake.

Olympus

Apollo watches Rainey from the edge of Olympus.

“How did she take it?” a voice comes from behind, Zeus.

“Were you not watching?”

“Come now, child, you know I trust you more than to watch over your shoulder at every turn. This is your task, and I would never have entrusted it to you had I not believed you could get it done. Now, tell me, how did it go?”

“She’s reluctant. I saw into her heart, and she’s broken. She truly believes that she deserves no more than the life she has. If she chooses to stay in that life, she will no doubt live a long and mostly content life. Well, after her partner pushes her too far and forces her gather her courage and leave. But if she leaves now, and she tries, I’ve seen no outcome where she isn’t killed. Horribly. But not before slowing the spread.” Apollo’s head hangs. “After consulting the Fates, I simply pulled the string with the greatest outcome for her to complete her task, but as you know, the strings of the fate comes many unknowns.”

“Just because you cannot see her succeed, does not mean that she cannot surprise you. You have made the right choice in selecting her, she’s special. I know you can see that.” Zeus places a hand on the shoulder of his son. “She is destined to struggle. To suffer. But rock bottom has built more champions than privilege ever did. Trust in her as I have trusted you. Allow yourself to be surprised by them once more. They’re not all as bad as you seem to believe they are.”

Zeus smiles at Apollo as they both look out across the world from the precipice of Olympus, before turning to him once more.

“Also, why are you dressed like that?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Rainey is woken the next morning by the gentle vibration of her watch, humming against her wrist every other second until she’s awake and cognizant enough to silence it by tapping her palm to the watch’s face.

She glances blearily around the darkened room.

“What a strange dream,” she thinks to herself. “Apollo himself, related to me; now that really would be something.”

She gently lifts her side of the duvet off of her, and slides slowly out of bed, hoping not to cause Jake to stir.

He very much didn’t enjoy being woken so early.

Rainey walks carefully across the room to her chest of drawers, and pulls out some clean underwear before taking extreme care to open her closet doors slowly; its creaky hinges are likely to cause a most unwelcome disturbance.

She removes a clean white shirt, a suit jacket and a matching skirt, before again taking extreme care to close the doors with the same caution with which they had been opened.

Rainey spends the whole time cursing herself for diverting from her usual routine the previous evening. She would usually leave her outfit for the next day hanging in the spare bedroom, so she could get dressed in peace the next morning and avoid any unwanted attentions, or requests, before having to head out to work.

She opens the bedroom door - garments strewn across her forearm - just enough to pass through, and pulling it closed as slowly as she’s physically able to once on the other side. The last thing she wants right now is the door hitting the frame loud enough to wake the sleeping lion.

As the door closes, a glint of something catches her eye from under the bed, though she thinks nothing of it and continues on until she can safely release the handle, and start her morning.

Being the socially anxious type, Rainey opts to leave for work on the earliest available train, so as to avoid the rush of each morning on the way into London. It gives her some much needed time to herself that she doesn’t really get at home, to relax, reflect, and plan out her day.

This morning, she spends her journey reviewing her presentation notes, ensuring that each of the slides she’d put together the previous day still meet her high standard and that the demonstration pages she’s mocked up are each working as expected offline, to prevent any embarrassment in front of the external clients during her morning meeting.

Rainey’s mental state is somewhat enigmatic, having suffered through some considerable trauma at a young age. There are areas of her psyche which she is unwilling to access or discuss with anyone. Despite her being a highly intelligent, articulate, and observant individual, she feels that some things are best left buried in the past.

She suffers heavily from anxiety, mostly in social situations, and even more so now, thanks to Jake’s expert exploitation and manipulation, exacerbating these already strong feelings over the past couple of years. Couple this with her depression, which triggers a craving for isolation, finding the company of others to be too emotionally draining to sustain over extended periods of time, with longer recovery periods necessary the longer an interaction lasts.

Personally, she’s a bit of a mess.

But, place her in a professional setting and her personality changes almost entirely to one that both exudes confidence, going so far as confrontational at times, and most certainly does not suffer fools lightly. In her head, she equates this phenomenon to what she defines as “Professional Confidence”. An alter-ego of sorts, who doesn’t need to worry about the outside world; a distinct personality who knows, understands, and is a specialist in, her employed role. Professional Rainey deals in facts and results, which is the sole reason for her relative professional success.

Facts are far easier for her to process than feelings, opinions, and expressions, so she always ensures that she is primed with the facts before entering a conversation or debate about anything in the workplace.

Most of the time, this approach is enough for her to get her way. Sometimes she would be overridden by one of the other senior Project Managers, who held more sway with the exec team - which she, more often than not, would be fine with. If she knows what the Project Manager wants won’t work, and her advices have been ignored, she’d simply get it built to their specification and later explain that, as she’d said at the outset, they couldn’t accomplish everything requested.

In her own mind, she’s fairly diplomatic with her co-workers; however, many of her colleagues have often mistaken her diplomacy for passive-aggressiveness, which they have been known to hold against her. This morning’s meeting would hopefully close off the project she’d been managing that had been hanging around since the summer of the previous year. So she was more than excited to be finally demonstrating the expected ‘Live’ version of the software interface for the client - well, the offline version.

The assigned developer had quit in September, causing the build’s initial draft to be delayed. Rather than waiting to hire someone new, Rainey decided to take on the development herself. As interesting as she found Project Management, she missed the grind of the job’s more technical aspects. Convincing her manager to give her the task was easy, as she had developed the mock-up of what the final design should be. All she had to do was polish the design and build the additional features requested by the client. Easy.

She had always thrived more in a creative environment, her years of creating little worlds for herself to escape into during her childhood preparing her for the professional world. Only now, she doesn’t need to spend as much time investigating the subjects, as she’s d become an expert in her field of knowledge through her academic career.

As she worked through the client’s final build on the train and reviewed her presentation notes alongside the site, her mind drifted back to her dream.

Is that what Apollo had been to her? A sub-conscious nudge to tell her that she should be doing more?

That her knowledge and expertise were being wasted?

Was there really more to her than who she currently was?

It was true, she had been missing her passion. She missed the Classics. She missed her Gods and Heroes.

Whilst she was never interested in making a living out of them, they had always been her path to escape. A glint of something better, purer, both in her childhood and, unfortunately, now.

Perhaps, once this project was finished, she would look for something new, maybe not in Greece itself, but at least somewhere she could study the subjects she loves. Maybe even take up one of the many consulting roles the government had been pestering her with, over the past couple of years.

Rainey’s morning passes quickly once she reaches the office. After offering a brief overview to her manager, Adrian, before the presentation, she delivers the product demonstration of her work for the client, which ended up going better than she expected, with little consequence and great acclaim lavished upon her from the client, who loves her design, and its presentation. This makes her very happy, and, dare she even think it, a little proud.

“Congratulations on a very impressive presentation. The clients couldn’t be happier, and neither could I.” Rainey is joined by her Adrian in her office once he’s ushered the clients out of the building. “You keep this up, and there may be an executive position here in your future.”

“Thanks Ade, that really means a lot,” she nonchalantly responds, shuffling through a pile of documents on her desk.

Adrian sits himself in one of the armchairs in the corner of her small office space, as Rainey places her laptop in its docking station by the monitors on her desk, and takes off her suit jacket before placing it carefully over her chair.

“I have another project lined up for you, which I think you’re more than capable of, and I think it’s more in your wheelhouse than the boring financial institution stuff you’ve had to work on the past couple of years.”

“Oh? What is it?”