The camp had discovered the truth: Luke Castellan was a traitor. He had joined Kronos, betraying everything he once stood for. Now, two young demigods—Nico and Will—had brought him to Olympus.

Luke’s wrists were chained in front of his stomach, the cold metal biting into his skin. Every step dragged him forward, the chains clinking ominously against the marble floor.

“We’ve got him, sir,” Nico announced, his voice tight as he stepped aside.

Luke was pushed forward, the chains rattling with each movement. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t beg.

At the far end of the hall, Zeus loomed on his throne, his golden eyes burning with barely restrained fury.

“Luke Castellan.” His voice rang through the hall, sharp and full of disgust.

Luke tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. Shame? Regret? Not a trace. Instead, he radiated a quiet pride, as if he were daring Olympus itself to judge him.