"We're not competing, love," Elijah grumbled, and this time the whine in his voice was genuine.
"As if," Alessandro fired back without missing a beat, turning toward him with a sideways glare, "you didn't see me running shirtless with mia principessa greca and immediately decided to show up half-naked to one-up me."
His tone was sharp, but not entirely serious. It was dry. Teasing. But pointed enough to sting.
Before either of them could respond, a smooth voice chimed in behind them.
"Hey there, Aphrodite."
Rafael.
He jogged up to them mid-run, joining the group effortlessly. Of course, he was shirtless too. His navy-blue sport shorts matched the deep blue of his runners, and the black socks somehow made the look deliberate instead of lazy. His dark hair was a tousled mess from a recent shower, damp enough to cling to his forehead. His body—sleek muscle and defined lines—was inked with deliberate chaos. His entire right arm was consumed by blackout ink from wrist to shoulder. His left side was dominated by a swirling tribal tattoo that stretched across his shoulder, chest, and down his ribs. One more tattoo—barbed wire in a perfect spiral—wrapped up his right leg, from ankle to mid-thigh.
Elijah and Alessandro both turned toward him instantly, eyes narrowed and jaws set, their glares sharp enough to draw blood.
Thalia, however, just parted her lips in a silent breath, her eyes tracking Rafael slowly—clearly not for the first time that day.
"Hey, Baby Shark," she purred, lips curling into a sly grin.
"I'm joining," came another voice—feminine this time—calling out from behind them.
They all turned as Samira approached, already dressed for the run. She wore a dark purple gym bra and matching shorts that hugged her body like second skin, paired with low-cut lavender runners and no-nonsense socks. Her long black hair was swept up into a high ponytail that swung behind her like a banner. And ink trailed up her right side—an entire cherry blossom tree blooming in soft, detailed branches from her hip to her shoulder, curling across her ribs and down the length of her arm.
"Morning, Amirah," she greeted with a wink, eyes focused on Thalia like a predator watching prey.
"Morning, Cleopatra," Thalia answered, tone warm but not soft.
The group collectively came to a halt. They were all staring now—each one of them gawking with no attempt at subtlety.
And Thalia?
She burst into laughter. Loud, unrestrained, full-body laughter. She doubled over with it, hands on her knees, her shoulders shaking from how hard it hit.
"Christe mou, aftó katantá geloío!" she wheezed in Greek, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes as she straightened up again. "This is ridiculous. All of you. Showing off like you're in some primal contest for attention. I feel like I've been dropped into the middle of some bizarre peacock mating display."
She pointed vaguely at the group, shaking her head, voice rising in disbelief. "You're all parading around shirtless, inked up, glowing with sweat—strutting like I'm some poor little bird caught in the middle of heat season."
Her voice shifted into Greek again, this time faster and more animated.
"Ti na káno m' esás ólous? Na xekiníso dikó mou charémi i káti tétoio?"
"I have no idea what you just said," Alessandro muttered, clearly irritated but still watching her like she hung the moon. "But dio mio, your Greek? Sounds hot."
Thalia barked out another laugh, rubbing her temples. "Guys," she groaned, trying not to laugh again, "seriously—what am I even supposed to do with you all?"
Samira raised her hand lazily, fingers spread in mock innocence. "I mean… pick one and take a bite out of him?" she suggested, grinning wide. "I hear that solves things."
Thalia scoffed, eyebrows rising. "Yeah, right," she said, voice dry as sand. "If I pick even one of you, there'll be blood on the sand before the sun's up. Don't think I haven't noticed—you're all barely suppressing the urge to maul each other."
Her expression turned exasperated. "I don't know what this little flex-fest is supposed to be, but you're all acting like I'm the last drop of ambrosia on earth, drenched in honey and gold, sent by the gods for your personal torment. And if this keeps up, it's going to spiral out of control faster than any of you can blink."
She muttered under her breath again, voice low and tight in frustrated Greek.
"Kai eínai ídi berdeména ta prágmata me ton gero-kargióli na mou káthetai ston sverkó…"
"You are the last ambrosia on earth to us, love," Elijah purred, stepping just close enough to be noticed. "And I don't know what you said just now, but I agree with the eagle. Your Greek? Insanely hot."
Thalia groaned, dragging both hands down her face, shoulders slumping. "You're all making my game a thousand times harder, you know that?" she mumbled through her fingers. "I was trying to stay low-profile."
She dropped her hands finally, letting them fall to her sides. But the resigned look in her eyes said it all:
They were not going to make that easy.
"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Rafael asked, deadpan, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and admiration. "You really thought you'd be able to stay low-profile here? Aphrodite, darling—please. We've been locked away in confinement preparing for the games for who knows how many weeks, starved for anything remotely exciting. Then you show up out of nowhere. I'm jealous of the poor bastards who took part in your assessment, honestly. If anything, I'd say you are the one making our game harder. I don't know about these other idiots, but I came in here with a clear plan—stay focused, no distractions. Then you walked in and poof—there goes the whole damn strategy."
"I'm disgusted to admit that I agree with Baby Shark," Elijah muttered, running a hand down his face. "But I do. And honestly? I'm not even mad about it. I could die in here—doubt I will, but still. The danger just makes meeting you that much more... intense, love."
"We were like a room full of moths, fluttering in circles, trapped in our own gloom," Samira chimed in, her voice velvety. "Then came the flame. That's what it felt like when we saw you."
"Like we were drowning..." Alessandro murmured, his voice soft, almost reverent. "Barely keeping afloat. And then, suddenly... we could breathe again."
Thalia closed her eyes for a long, drawn-out breath. When she opened them, she exhaled slowly and regarded them all in turn. "So what am I supposed to do, then?" she asked calmly. "Because I'm not picking anyone."