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What price did I pay?

The question hit me harder than I thought it would, seeing as I should have been prepared for it.

But I couldn’t answer, convinced I had misunderstood the implication. Surely, after everything we had just discussed, after the feelings he had just confessed, there was no way he could have meant what it sounded like he meant. Yet the longer I looked at him, the more my stomach twisted, because Atlas appeared completely serious.

“Excuse me?” I asked, my tone equally dangerous as his had been seconds ago. His brows narrowed immediately, clearly confused by my reaction.

“You heard me,” he replied, and the calmness in his voice only made the knot in my chest tighten.

“No,” I said, taking a step back from him. “I don’t think I did.”

Atlas watched me carefully, the confusion growing as though he could see the conversation suddenly heading somewhere he hadn’t intended.

“Alexandra, creatures like Theron don’t help strangers for nothing,” he reiterated, as if I hadn’t understood the first time. “If he helped you get back to me, then there would have been a reason for it. Men like that don’t involve themselves in the affairs of others unless there is something or someone to gain.”

“Someone?” I repeated. So, I hadn’t misunderstood him.

“Yes.”

The answer came so easily, so matter-of-factly, that something hot and ugly immediately began rising inside my chest. Atlas didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he did and just didn’t understand why. Either way, he continued looking at me as though what he was saying was perfectly reasonable, and that my reaction was unwarranted.

“So, I will ask you one last time, how did you repay him?” he asked, looking me up and down. Was he really implying what I thought he was?

“What do you think happened?” I demanded.

“Alexandra.”

“No,” I shook my head and took another step backward. “Tell me.”

His jaw tightened, and the look he gave me suggested he was rapidly losing patience, but mine had disappeared completely. Whatever understanding we’d managed to find moments earlier was unraveling all over again, and quickly. And judging by the stubborn set of his shoulders, neither of us seemed particularly willing to back down first.

“The Gorgon King is one of the oldest and most powerful beings in existence,” he said slowly, as though he were trying to explain something obvious to a particularly stubborn child. “People don’t survive encounters with beings like that without consequences.”

The moment the words left his mouth, something inside me snapped. Before I could stop myself, I shoved him hard in the chest with both hands. Not hard enough to hurt him because that was near impossible, but hard enough to make him take a surprised step backward, his eyes widening slightly as though the reaction was the last thing he’d expected.

“How dare you?”

The words came out low at first, but there was enough anger behind them to make Atlas straighten immediately. Now the confusion was completely evident on his face, quickly followed by disbelief as he stared back at me.

“How dare I what?” he asked incredulously.

“You think I’m some kind of whore?!”

Atlas physically recoiled.

The reaction was so immediate and horrified that even through my anger, I felt a flicker of uncertainty. But it wasn’t enough to cool my anger, not nearly enough.

“I’m leaving!” I snapped instead, shouldering past him and making my way to the door.

“Alexandra, you’re being ridiculous.”

“And we are done with this conversation!” I shot back, yet his expression suggested we were absolutely not done with this conversation, but unfortunately for him, I had already made up my mind. The moment I was through the doors, I ran.

Not because I was afraid of him. I was because if I stayed in that room for another second, if I had to look at his face while that awful implication was still burning through me, I was going to do something I would regret. Humiliation stormed through me in violent waves, leaving very little room for common sense. And I had the distinct feeling that whatever happened next would involve either screaming loud enough to shatter windows or launching the nearest priceless object directly at his head.

My hands fisted in the heavy folds of my dress as I hurried down the corridor, dragging the ridiculous length of fabric up around my knees so I didn’t trip over it and break my neck. Which would have been shit, especially before I’d managed my dramatic exit.

It was a shame, really, as the dress had felt beautiful earlier, elegant even. It was the kind of thing that belonged in candlelit halls and beside kings with too much arrogance and not enough good sense. But now it was nothing more than a silk trap wrapping around my legs and slowing me down when all I wanted was distance.