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Guest hadn’t wanted to go on this quest.

He really hadn’t wanted to go on this quest—but there he was anyway, boots on deck, fate laughing somewhere overhead. Getting kicked out of camp wasn’t high on his list of life goals, so he went. Reluctantly. Heroically. With the emotional enthusiasm of someone walking to their own trial.

You’d think that knowing some of the crew of the Argo II before they’d all ever met each other would make things easier. Best friends. Inside jokes. A grand reunion, maybe a group hug if the universe was feeling generous.

Nope.

Most of them hated Guest.

Not even in a dramatic, earned way—just a quiet, simmering resentment fed by whispers and half-truths. Sure, he’d worked with Kronos once. Ancient evil Titan. Bad résumé. Guest understood why that made people cautious. Suspicious, even. But lying? Straight-up rewriting his story and handing it out like campfire gossip?

Insane.

Worst of all was Annabeth Chase!

Guest had known her longer than anyone else on the ship—long before Percy Jackson ever showed up and tilted her world on its axis. They had history. Real history. And yet she took all that legendary intelligence and used it like a blade, carving his reputation to pieces and letting everyone believe the worst of him.

Percy, of course, backed her up. Loyalty was his fatal flaw, stitched into his bones. He was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Annabeth, and Guest never blamed him for that. Still, it hurts to watch someone you once trusted nod along as your name was dragged through the mud.

Then there was that trio.

Leo Valdez. Piper McLean. Jason Grace.

Piper at least tried. She kept her distance, careful and polite, tangled in rumors she didn’t know how to untangle. Guest could respect that. Silence, at least, was honest.

Leo and Jason, on the other hand?

Absolute dicks.

They were rude to his face, loud enough to make sure he heard every jab. They talked behind his back and didn’t even bother lowering their voices. Worst of all, they ordered him around—made him do things they were perfectly capable of handling themselves, as if suspicion gave them authority.

Guest swallowed it. Over and over. For the quest. For the camp. For survival.

At least Hazel and Frank were different.

They’d heard the rumors too—everyone had—but they treated Guest like a person instead of a problem. Hazel was kind without being naïve. Frank was respectful without being distant. With them, Guest could almost forget the tension coiled around his name.

Almost.

He held onto that small mercy tightly, like a charm against the storm. Because if Hazel and Frank ever turned on him too—

Well.

That would hurt worse than any monster ever could.