Back at home...

Liam sat in the dim glow of the room, a bottle of whiskey clutched loosely in his hand, the glass in front of him barely filled as the liquid sloshed around. The buzz of the **** hadn't done much to quiet the gnawing in his stomach, or the ache in his chest that refused to fade. It had been two days since Lucas had left, and he hadn’t heard a word.

He took another swallow, grimacing as the burn settled in his throat. The numbness, though, was a welcome relief from the thoughts spiraling in his head. Lucas—his best friend, once—had dismissed him. The very idea made him clench his jaw. They were in the middle of this crazy mess of trials, and now?

Now, it seemed like Lucas was out there doing these insane trials all alone. It was infuriating, and Liam was just… done.

The silence was suffocating.

Liam had been used to the late-night talks, the plans, the chaos. But now? Now it was all quiet, and that was the worst part of it.

He had tried to be there for Lucas, tried to keep being a good friend, but the whole idea had crumbled. They didn’t need him, or want him.

And who could blame them?

The last time he'd seen Lucas, she had walked off into the night, heading toward who-knows-what, with who-knows-who. The reality of it stung, and yet... there was a part of him that couldn't help but wonder if this was somehow his fault.

Liam swirled the ice in his glass absently, remembering that night when everything had changed.

When Aphrodite had appeared out of nowhere, dropping into his world like a wild storm. She’d made him feel alive again. She’d made everything else disappear. The loneliness, the bitterness, Lucas... none of it mattered when she was there. She had shown up, taken control, and made it feel like his whole damn week was something worth living for.

He let out a dry laugh, one that was bitter, the kind you give when you're remembering something that could have been beautiful but was now gone. He'd been drunk, sure, but even then, there was no denying the allure of that woman. She had promised him everything, given him moments of ecstasy, and he had thought—just for a second—that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as invisible as he felt.

But none of that mattered now. Lucas was out there, off with the others, tangled up in trials, with no room left for him.

Liam squeezed his eyes shut, a headache building as he stared at the crisp $600 sitting on the counter. Rent. From who knows where.

He didn’t care. Money was a constant cycle—come and go—but what was missing now? Lucas.

The bottle in his hand was almost empty now, the last of the whiskey swirling in lazy circles. He was tired of thinking. Tired of feeling the weight of things he couldn’t control.

And then—

A knock.

Liam's head snapped up, the bottle nearly slipping from his hand. For a second, his heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Was it?

He wasn’t sure why the thought crossed his mind, but it did. The hope bloomed in his chest, no matter how much he tried to suppress it. The last person he wanted to see was Lucas, or anyone really, but his mind couldn’t help but race toward a possibility.

A possibility he hadn't dared to consider until now.

The knock sounded again, a little louder this time, more insistent.

Liam shot up from the couch, stepping toward the door with an unsteady gait. He wiped his face, half-expecting to see someone he didn’t care to talk to, but... what if it was her?

What if it was Aphrodite?

The thought stuck to him, held him there, even though the rational part of his mind told him to forget it. But there was something... undeniable about it. That wild energy, that **** of nature—Aphrodite.

The knock sounded once more.

And Liam, his pulse quickening, his heart racing, reached for the door.

Liam opened the door, and his breath hitched.

She stood there like a vision, a masterpiece carved from the very essence of temptation.

Aphrodite.

Tonight, she had chosen a form that demanded attention, one that screamed sex and power in equal measure. Her complexion was a golden, sun-kissed bronze—Australian, maybe. Smooth, flawless, like the kind of skin that had never known a blemish.

Her body? Pure sin.

She was tall—at least 5'10 in her heels, standing eye-level with Liam, maybe even a little taller. Her curves were the type that could ruin a man, the kind that could make an empire crumble. A tiny waist, wide hips, and an ass that looked sculpted by the gods themselves. Her chest? Full, heavy, and barely contained in the fabric she called a top.

The outfit was designed to make men drool—a silk halter crop top that plunged dangerously low, tied behind her neck in a delicate bow, leaving her back completely bare. The fabric clung to her massive, perky tits, the neckline dipping just enough to tease, to tempt.

And then there was the skirt.

If you could even call it that.

A tight, leather micro-mini that barely covered her ass, hugging her hips and leaving her long, thick thighs exposed. A gold anklet glimmered against her skin, and her stiletto heels were obscene—delicate straps wrapping up her calves like something out of a Roman conquest.

And her hair? Waves of dark, luscious curls, cascading down to her waist. The kind of hair men wanted to bury their hands in. Her lips were painted a deep, blood-red, and when she smirked, Liam felt the familiar pull in his gut.

"Well, well, well," she purred, stepping inside without waiting for permission. "Look at you, drowning your sorrows again."

She strolled past him, hips swaying in a way that made it impossible not to stare. She reached the couch, her sharp nails trailing over the empty glass before she sat down right where Liam had been.

One leg crossed over the other, slow, deliberate, giving Liam the perfect view of her toned thighs, the faintest peek of black lace beneath that scandalous skirt.

He swallowed. Hard.

"Close the door, darling," she cooed, tilting her head. "Wouldn't want anyone to interrupt, now, would we?"

Liam did as he was told, his body already reacting to her presence. The heat, the weight of her attention—it was suffocating in the best way. He crossed the room and sat back down, but this time, he didn’t leave space. Why would he?

Their thighs touched.

Aphrodite leaned in, her perfume intoxicating, a mix of vanilla, jasmine, and something darker—something dangerous.

Liam let out a shaky breath, but he didn't pull away.

"You missed me," she mused, running a finger along his jawline, tilting his face slightly. "I can tell. You were hoping it was me at the door, weren't you?"

Liam smirked, trying to play it cool, but the way she looked at him made it damn near impossible.

"Maybe," he murmured, his voice lower now. "Not a lot of people knocking on my door lately."

Aphrodite pouted dramatically. "Poor baby. Left all alone while your dear little friend is off whoring themselves out."

Liam stiffened. "What?"

A slow, sly smile spread across her lips. There it was. The trap.

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighed, picking up the bottle of whiskey and pouring herself a glass. "You don’t know, do you?"

Liam didn’t respond, didn’t even breathe as he watched her swirl the amber liquid.

Aphrodite took a slow sip, savoring the taste, before setting the glass down and leaning in, so close their noses almost touched.

"She left you behind," she whispered, voice silky and full of poison. "Out there, living it up. And, oh, Liam... she's not just doing the trials. SHe's enjoying them."

His jaw clenched. "Bullshit."

Aphrodite laughed—a soft, musical sound that sent a chill down his spine.

"Am I lying?" she hummed, tracing her finger down his chest. "I see everything, darling. I’ve watched. I've watched her slink into rooms she swore they wouldn't. I've seen the way she lets men touch her, claim her, take her—and not just for the sake of the trial, no, no, no…"

She tsked, shaking her head.

"She likes it," she whispered, lips grazing the shell of his ear. "She craves it."

Liam froze.

Something ugly twisted in his chest. A slow-burning, poisonous rage. He didn’t want to believe her. He shouldn’t believe her. But wasn’t that what Lucas hadn't wanted all along?

His grip tightened into a fist. Aphrodite smiled, seeing the cracks in his resolve.

"Poor thing," she murmured, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "You thought she needed you, didn’t you? Thought she'd come back. But she doesn’t need you, Liam. She's moved on. She's better off without you."

Liam's breathing was uneven now, and Aphrodite, ever the goddess of love, ever the goddess of destruction, knew exactly how to push him further.

"But you don’t have to be alone," she cooed, pressing a hand against his chest, gently pushing him back against the couch. She straddled his lap effortlessly, her fingers threading through his hair. "I could keep you company..."

Her lips hovered dangerously close to his.

Liam swallowed hard, his hands gripping the couch as if letting go meant he’d lose control.

And maybe… maybe he wanted to.

Because in this moment, Aphrodite was right here. And Lucas?

Lucas was gone.

Aphrodite smiled as she traced a single, perfectly manicured nail along Liam’s jaw. "You poor thing," she cooed, voice thick with honeyed sympathy. "You deserve to know, don’t you? What she's been up to?"

Liam tensed beneath her. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. Aphrodite knew.

She tapped two fingers against his temple—light, teasing. And then—

His vision blurred.

The dorm, the couch, the bottle in his hand—all of it melted away. His mind was yanked through a golden thread of divine power, and suddenly, he was watching.

Watching her.

Lucas.

On their knees.

Dressed in nothing but delicate, lacy lingerie, a sinful red set that barely covered anything at all.

She was in a bedroom—no, a suite, all rich leather and warm dim lighting. And she wasn’t alone.

Three men. Richard, Damian, Vincent.

Liam’s stomach turned. He couldn’t look away.

Damian had his strong hands in her hair, guiding her, his head thrown back in pleasure as she eagerly worked him with their mouth. Richard stood to the side, watching with a smug grin, waiting his turn, while Vincent—that bastard Vincent—was next to him, with her free hand stroking his cock.

Lucas was enjoying it. She moaned around Damian's cock, her body arching toward his touch, completely and utterly willing.

Liam felt like he was going to be sick. His first instinct, the very first thought that cut through the horror of what he was seeing, was: "Is she under a spell?"

His voice came out hoarse, broken. "Did you do this to her? Is she being controlled?"

Aphrodite hummed, shaking her head as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing his ear. "Oh, Liam," she sighed, her voice tinged with something almost like pity. "You still don’t get it, do you?"

She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. Her golden eyes gleamed, filled with cruel amusement.

"This is her."

Liam’s heart clenched. "No."

"Oh yes," she whispered, her fingers tracing down his throat. "This is who she is now. This is who she was always meant to be."

His breath came in shaky, uneven gasps. He wanted to deny it, to scream at her that she was wrong, that this wasn’t Lucas he knew.

Aphrodite smiled. "And guess what, darling?" she purred, tilting his chin up. "It’s because of you."

Liam’s blood ran cold.

"What?" he rasped.

"You remember our little… indulgence last time, don’t you?" Her nails dragged over his chest, slow, deliberate. "Did you think that came without a price?"

Liam's stomach twisted, coiled with something ugly. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Aphrodite’s expression was pure delight.

"Every time you give in to me, every time you surrender yourself to pleasure, my power… spills over." She traced a finger down his chest, trailing lower. "And your dear little best friend? Well, she was already so close to falling, weren’t they? So easy to tip over the edge."

Liam stared at her, unable to process the words—unable to process the truth she was feeding him.

"You mean—"

"She would have done this anyway," Aphrodite interrupted smoothly, her smile sharpening. "But you? You accelerated it. You made her what she is now. You helped me shape her."

No. That wasn’t—That couldn’t be true.

Liam clenched his fists, but the more he tried to fight it, the more the words sank in, curling deep into his brain like barbed wire.

Lucas had left him. Lucas had pushed him away.

And now? Now she was out there, letting men use her, ruin her, corrupt her—

"And she loves it," Aphrodite whispered, her breath warm against his lips. "She loves _every second _of it."

Liam hated how much those words made him want to rip something apart. Aphrodite pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her expression softer now—coaxing, tempting, waiting.

"Do you want to stop thinking about her, Liam?" she asked, her voice a seductive purr.

His throat felt tight. Aphrodite’s fingers trailed over his cheek, down to his jaw, to his lips. "Do you want me to make it all go away?"

Liam exhaled, slow, shaky. His entire body felt coiled, like he was on the edge of something dangerous. Something inevitable.

She leaned in, brushing her lips against his, teasing.

"Just say yes," she murmured.

And Liam, angry, furious, and burning with something he didn’t want to name, did.

Aphrodite smiled against his mouth as she kissed him, slow at first, then hungry, demanding.

And just like that—

He was hers again.