Worried Zeus and Brothers.

The air felt heavy, like a storm was about to break, but it was just them—divine beings who had seen empires rise and crumble, now sitting around, debating a damn teenager.

Apollo leaned back, arms crossed, watching the way the conversation had turned. "Look," he said, tone dry, "I did what had to be done."

Aphrodite, on the other hand, was bubbling with anger, her golden glow dimming at the edges like a candle about to go out in a strong wind. "Apollo, have you lost your fucking mind? That girl was still healing! And you pulled that shit? Are you out of your damn sunburned head?"

Apollo snorted. "It was necessary."

"Oh, necessary," Aphrodite mocked, eyes flashing. "Necessary for what? To traumatize her more?"

"To keep Parker under our radar." Apollo exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin. "We all know something's off. He slips past us sometimes—blackouts, blanks, gaps where we should've seen everything. I had to know if it was real."