They would be coming for him.

Cratus stood on top of the highest point of Olympus, staring out at the beautiful setting sun. Ribbons of warm color split the darkening sky, reminding him of a brilliant fire opal glistening and twinkling. Nowhere else was it more breathtaking than here, and he wanted to watch it set one last time before he submitted himself for his well-deserved punishment.

He wouldn't ask for clemency. There was no need. He knew better than anyone the wrath of Zeus. For centuries, he'd been the Olympian god's hammer, carrying out his justice.

Now that justice would come for him.

"Run and I will run with you."

He glanced down at the small form of his sister Nike. Where his wings were black, hers were a pure white. Her dark curly hair was wrapped with a white ribbon that matched her gown. The personification of victory, she'd been his accomplice throughout his entire life.

They, along with their brother and sister, had been the sentinels of Zeus. Beloved guardians, they had been treasured by the father of the gods even above Zeus's own children. Until Cratus had committed an unforgivable sin—he'd spared a life he should have taken. It wasn't his place to question his master, only to do his bidding. He still couldn't understand why he'd done it. The gods knew compassion was an alien emotion to him.

Yet here he was . . .

Time to die.

Cratus sighed wearily. "I can't ask that of you, akribos. You still have Zeus's favor. Don't jeopardize that for me. Besides, no one can run from Olympian justice. You know that as well as I do. No matter where I hide, they will find me."

Nike took his hand and held it to her cheek. "I know why you did it and I respect you for it."