The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

30. A Donut Story

"Five hundred and thirty nautical miles," Percy said.

Y/N, Annabeth and Ethan stared at him. "How did you know that?" Ethan asked.

"I—I'm not sure," he said.

Annabeth thought for a moment. "Percy, what's our position?"

"36 degrees, 44 minutes north, 76 degrees, 2 minutes west," he said immediately. Then he shook his head. "Whoa. How did I know that?"

"Because of your dad," Annabeth guessed. "When you're at sea, you have perfect bearings."

"That is so cool," Ethan said.

"Other boat is coming," Tyson said.

Y/N looked back. The coast guard vessel was definitely on their tail now. Its lights were flashing and it was gaining speed.

"We can't let them catch us," he said. "They'll ask too many questions."

"Keep going into Chesapeake Bay," Annabeth said to Percy. "I know a place we can hide."

Nobody asked what she meant, or how she knew the area so well. A fresh burst of wind sent them rocketing around the northern tip of Virginia Beach into Chesapeake Bay. The coast guard boat fell farther and farther behind.

"There," Annabeth said. "Past that sandbar."

They veered into a swampy area chocked with marsh grass and Percy beached the lifeboat at the foot of a giant cypress.

Vine-covered trees loomed over them. Insects chirred in the woods. The air was muggy and hot, and steam curled off the river. Basically, it wasn't Vermont, and Y/N didn't like it.

"Come on," Annabeth said. "It's just down the bank."

"What is?" Ethan asked.

"Just follow." She grabbed a duffel bag. "And we'd better cover the boat. We don't want to draw attention."

After burying the lifeboat with branches, Y/N, Ethan, Percy and Tyson followed Annabeth along the shore, their feet sinking in red mud. A snake slithered past Y/N's shoe and disappeared into the grass.

"Not a good place," Tyson said. He swatted the mosquitoes that were forming a buffet line on his arm.

After another few minutes, Annabeth said, "Here."

All Y/N saw was a patch of brambles. Then Annabeth moved aside a woven circle of branches, like a door, and he realized he was looking into a camouflaged shelter.

The inside was big enough for five, even with Tyson one of them. The walls were woven from plant material, like a Native American hut, but they looked pretty waterproof. Stacked in the corner was everything you could want to campout—sleeping bags, blankets, an ice chest, and a kerosene lamp. There were demigod provisions, too—bronze javelin tips, a quiver full of arrows, an extra sword, and a box of ambrosia. The place smelled musty, like it had been vacant for a long time.

"A half-blood hideout." Y/N looked at Annabeth in awe. "You made this place?"

"Thalia and I," she said quietly. "And Luke."

That shouldn't have bothered him. He knew Thalia and Luke had taken care of Annabeth when she was little. He knew the three of them had been runaways together, hiding from monsters, surviving on their own before Grover found them and tried to get them to Half-Blood Hill. But whenever Annabeth talked about the time she had spent with them, he kind of felt . . . uncomfortable.

No. It wasn't the word.

Jealous. That was the word.

But he didn't know why.