As their helicopter cut through the air toward Argos, Jim and Medusa sat beside each other, watching the ocean pass below them. The rhythmic thrum of the rotors filled the cabin until Medusa finally broke the silence.

  "I don't understand. He wanted Dana? so badly—why would he threaten to harm her?"

  "Good question." Jim's voice was measured. "I've seen it before. Pure panic. When people panic, they stop thinking—something else takes over. King Poly thought we wouldn't let him live after what we did to his guards, so he threw everything at divine intervention, did whatever he could to buy time." He shook his head. "Never ends well."

  "I see. I'm glad we left when we did."

  "Did you really think—"

  "Yes. Poseidon was probably already on his way."

  Jim's face darkened. "Which means he'll see—"

  "Everything we've done." Medusa's voice was quiet. "He will be furious."

  "Not good." Jim ran a hand through his hair, then looked at her with something softer in his expression. "Well, thanks for telling me about it. And for telling me what you wanted to do back there."

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  Medusa glanced at him. "You're welcome. And thank you for protecting me the other night." She paused. "You worry about me, don't you?"

  Jim nodded, then slowly extended his hand toward her, palm up—an invitation, not a demand.

  Medusa's gaze flickered to his outstretched hand before meeting his eyes. What she saw there caught her off guard. No hunger. No possessiveness. None of the consuming lust she'd once known from men. Instead, something deeper and steadier—a quiet concern that sought to protect rather than possess.

  The realization stirred something unexpected within her: a warmth she couldn't quite name, an urge to reach out. But not too quickly.

  A small smile played at her lips. "All right... but only until we get back to Argos."

  She placed her hand in his as they continued to gaze out over the horizon. The sun dipped low, casting a golden hue across the sea, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to slow, and the quiet between them felt almost sacred.

  The Black Hawk banked sharply over Argos, its rotors slicing through the air, cutting the silence with their mechanical hum. The Apache veered off toward Fort Bogart as it disappeared into the distance.

  Below them, the city stirred to life as people poured into the streets, hands raised skyward in wonder, many waving in clear welcome. The sight stood in sharp contrast to their arrival at Seriphos, where empty streets and cold indifference had greeted them, broken only by the occasional wary glance from those who dared to look.

  As their helicopter descended toward the palace staging area, another Black Hawk was lifting off in a swirl of dust and debris. The moment they touched down, the exhausted team moved quickly to gather their gear. The palace loomed before them—their temporary refuge—promising much-needed rest after the chaos they'd endured.