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- “YOU!” Annabeth turned on Luke. “To think that I . . . that I thought—”
- She drew her knife.
- “Annabeth, don’t.” I tried to take her arm, but she shook me off.
- She attacked Kronos, and his smug smile faded. Perhaps some part of Luke remembered that he used to like this girl, used to take care of her when she was little. She plunged her knife between the straps of his armor, right at his collarbone. The blade should’ve sunk into his chest. Instead it bounced off. Annabeth doubled over, clutching her arm to her stomach. The jolt might’ve been enough to dislocate her bad shoulder.
- I yanked her back as Kronos swung his scythe, slicing the air where she’d been standing.
- ***
- The Last Olympian, Chapter 18
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