While everyone else was caught up in their own shit—arguing, overthinking, fuming, or, in Cassandra's case, being cryptic as hell—Icarus quietly slipped away.
No big moves, no dramatic exits, just a simple step back before fading into the background. Unlike the rest of them, he wasn't the type to jump to conclusions. Every action had a reason, and he wasn't about to let himself get dragged into this whole Parker Black mess without at least knowing why the hell the ship was even sailing in this direction.
He didn't know Parker well enough to defend the guy, but he knew himself well enough to recognize bullshit when he saw it. And right now, all he saw was a bunch of pissed-off champions latching onto a single target without questioning a damn thing.
So, if he was gonna be involved, he wanted facts. Not emotions.
He stepped into a dimly lit room, one filled with the quiet hum of servers and the soft glow of massive monitors stacked side by side. This was his element—computers, research, digging through digital footprints, and making shit happen. Icarus didn't swing swords or throw punches.
He cracked codes and hacked government firewalls for breakfast—at least for now.
Settling into the chair, he cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders, and let his fingers fly over the keyboard. The screens flickered to life, data streams pouring in as he worked through layer after layer of security like it was a fucking game. And it kinda was.
A game where the prize was knowledge, and the opponent? Whoever thought they could keep secrets from him.
First step? Government records. Parker Black. He didn't expect much, not with how careful Parker seemed to be, but there was always something. A trace. A breadcrumb. Sure enough, a neat little file popped up, the basics of what Parker had left behind, the ones he said as comfortable others knowing—his legal footprint, public records, financial movements.
Icarus skimmed through it, eyes narrowing at the occasional flicker of something odd. Little gaps. Strange coincidences. Like someone had scrubbed parts of the data clean. Okay, interesting.
But then he dug deeper, pushing past surface-level bullshit into the more recent activity. And that's when he found it.
Parker had been arrested. And then released. Same fucking night.
Icarus exhaled sharply, already moving on instinct, following the trail back to where it started—Rodeo Drive. That was his hotspot, the moment that set everything in motion. He tapped into the footage, pulling up surveillance from the street and even inside, expecting to see the whole thing play out.
Except... there was nothing.
Not just missing footage. Erased. Like someone had wiped the entire event clean, leaving nothing behind. Damn. Parker wasn't just moving smart—he was moving dangerous.
Still, Icarus wasn't the type to get shut out completely. If the footage was gone, that just meant looking somewhere else. And sure enough, he found something.
The guy Parker had just killed? That fucker had been at Rodeo Drive that night too. Same place. Same time.
Piece by piece, everything started clicking together. The fight. The chase. The police involvement. And now this? Something wasn't adding up.
Within the next hour, Icarus had already gotten the full rundown from a security guard near the scene. It wasn't hard. People liked to talk, especially to someone who knew how to ask the right questions.
And now, he had the truth.
Parker didn't just go on some reckless murder spree. He had a reason.
A reason that, knowing Chione and Perseus, wouldn't fucking matter to them at all. They'd already decided Parker was the enemy, locked in on him like bloodhounds. Even if he threw the truth in their faces, they'd just find a way to twist it, to justify their anger.
Because that's how gods were. And demigods? No different.
Icarus leaned back in his chair, staring at the screens. He could keep this to himself. It wasn't his fight. But at the same time, if they were really going after Parker, he figured they should at least know why they were about to piss him off.
And given what he'd just uncovered?
Yeah. Parker wasn't gonna respond kindly.
That's if he was the kind of guy Icarus thought he was. And something told him... he was.
Icarus leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, expression unreadable as the words left his mouth. "Apparently, Parker killed the guy immediately after he got released." His voice was steady, matter-of-fact. Then he dropped the real weight behind it. "The guy who sexually assaulted some Tessa girl who's apparently his woman."
The room went still. Dead silent. Like the whole world had collectively held its breath.
Isis moved first. A slow, measured inhale through her nose, her usually relaxed expression hardening into something lethal.
Her eyes flickered dangerously, and for once, she wasn't wearing that unreadable, ancient mask. "So that's what this is about," she murmured, almost to herself, her fingers tapping against her arm like she was stopping herself from clenching them into
Cleopatra, on the other hand, let out a slow, sharp breath. Her expression? A mix of satisfaction and something darker. "That," she murmured, tilting her head, "is exactly the kind of devotion men should aspire to." She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "And yet you call him the monster." Cleopatra had a fair share of such past.
Cassandra had gone quiet, her hands clasped together, but her knuckles were white. There was no horror on her face. No judgment. If anything, there was a quiet, deep understanding in her eyes. Parker hadn't just taken justice into his own hands—he had erased the threat permanently. And Cassandra, more than anyone, knew what it was like to be powerless in the face of cruelty. After all if anything Apollo too... She shook her head from that.
Atalanta, who had been leaning against the wall, pushed off it in one smooth motion. Her head tilted slightly, golden curls spilling over her shoulder, and then—crack.
Her knuckles popped as she flexed her fingers. "So we're mad at him for what, exactly?" she asked, voice low, eyes darting between Perseus and Chione. "Because if y'all are telling me we're out here hunting a guy who took out a fucking rapist, I might have to start throwing hands."
Chione was the only one who hadn't moved. She was sitting so still, it was almost unnatural. But her eyes—those sharp, glacial blue eyes—had gone dark.
Not in anger, not in fury, but in something quieter. Something deeper. "...He protected her." Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried through the room. It wasn't a question. It wasn't even a statement. It was a realization. A fact. And whatever she thought about Parker before—whatever cold, detached judgment she had—something had changed.
Perseus blinked, looking between them like he had walked into an entirely different reality. He couldn't allow this, this wasn't going to his plan."Wait," he started, lifting a hand. "Are we seriously not—" He stopped. Because no one was looking at Parker like he had done something wrong.
If anything, the women in the room seemed... relieved.
Icarus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Okay," he said, turning on his heel. "Just so you guys know—before you go chasing after the furious Devil protecting his woman." He threw a lazy salute over his shoulder, already walking away. "Good luck with that shit." His tone was light, but his eyes? Yeah. He wasn't gonna pretend this didn't shift everything.
And with that, he walked away, leaving the room steeped in the aftermath of an unspoken truth—
They weren't just dealing with Parker Black.
They were dealing with a man who had already decided that killing wasn't off the table.
Not when it came to her.