A Touch of Ruin (Hades x Persephone #2)(50)

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there watching Lexa, but there was a point when she realized she needed to leave. The room was too small, and Lexa’s parents needed privacy.

Once outside the room, Sybil turned to Persephone.

“Are you going to see Hades?”

She nodded.

“Will you ask him to save her?”

It was like someone had stabbed her in the stomach and twisted the blade.

“I will do what I can,” she answered.

Once Persephone was out of view, she risked teleportation and ended up in the alley beside Nevernight. It was dark and wet and smelled rancid. She rushed to the entrance where Mekonnen stood guard. When he saw her, he smiled, showing crooked and yellow teeth, but he quickly realized something was wrong. His grin vanished and he set his shoulders, seeming to grow larger, as if preparing to fight.

“My lady, is everything okay?” His words were rough, a hint of the monster he kept at bay.

“Hades,” she said, her breath was short. “I need him. Quickly!”

Mekonnen fumbled and opened the door. She rushed inside, immediately suffocated by the hot air and loud music.

She paused as she entered the club. She didn’t know where Hades was—he could be in the lounge, betting with mortals or in his office, sitting behind that pristine desk, or in the Underworld playing catch with Cerberus.

She hurried down the stairs and cut across the crowded floor. She felt frantic, like she was running out of time, but that was the problem. She didn’t know how much time she had. She nearly slammed into a waitress holding a massive tray of drinks. If it had been another day, she would have apologized, but she was on a mission. Instead, she continued through the crowd, pushing people aside, and ramming into shoulders. One man turned, scowling, and grabbed her arm, jerking her around to face him. “What the hell—?”

When he saw her face, he let her go as if she were venomous.

“Oh, fuck!”

A second later, an ogre materialized beside him and he was dragged from his table and into the dark of the club.

Persephone took the steps two at a time and decided to check Hades’ office first. When she threw open the doors, Hades was already across the room, as if he’d felt her distress and headed straight for it.

“Persephone.”

“Hades! You have to help! Please—”

She choked on a sob. She had thought she was okay, that she could at least get through this. It was the most important part, asking Hades for help. Except it wasn’t, and just as she started to speak, her emotions burst from her like a dam, raw and painful and untamed.

Hades caught her in his arms, holding her close as her whole body shook. His hands tangled into her hair, fitting against the base of her head. She’d have liked to stay there, sobbing in his arms, comforted by his strength and his heat. She was exhausted, but it was then she realized they weren’t alone.

There was a man bound to a chair in the middle of Hades’ office. He was gagged, his eyes were wide, and she got the impression he was trying to get her attention by screaming as loud as he could.

“Hades—”

“Ignore him,” Hades lifted his hand, and Persephone knew he was about to send the mortal away. She stopped him.

“Is that—is that the mortal who threw the bottle at me today?”

Hades jaw tightened.

“Why are you torturing him in your office and not in Tartarus?”

The mortal’s muffled cries increased.

“Because he’s not dead,” Hades responded, and then glared at the man. “Yet.”

“Hades, you cannot kill him.”

“I won’t kill him,” the god promised. “But I will make him wish he were dead.”

“Hades. Let. him. Go.”

The god’s dark eyes studied hers and it seemed like the longer he looked, the calmer he became. After a moment, he sighed and gritted out, “Fine.”

The mortal vanished. She would have to remember to follow up about where he actually sent the man. Persephone didn’t believe for a moment that Hades had given in so easily.

Hades sat and guided her onto his lap, his hand moved in soothing circles over her back.

“What happened?” He wasn’t demanding, but there was an edge to his voice that Persephone recognized as fear. She couldn’t blame him. She had burst into his office without warning, on the heels of a day when she’d been in the news after being attacked. She took a long time to answer, so long that Hades tilted her head back so he could search her eyes, a frown pulled at his lips.

Does he already know what happened to Lexa, she wondered?

She tried to tell him, but her mouth quivered so badly, she had to pause and take several deep breaths. After a few minutes of this, Hades summoned wine. She gulped it like water. The bitter drink coated her tongue but helped her nerves.

“Start again,” Hades said. “What happened?”

The words came easier this time.

As she spoke, his expression melted from concern into a mask of indifference. It was a strategic move in poker—a way to deceive another player by concealing feelings. But this wasn’t a game, and Persephone knew deep down that it was just Hades way of preparing to tell her he couldn’t help.

“She doesn’t look like Lexa anymore, Hades.”

A loud sob escaped her throat. She covered her mouth, as if that might keep all her feelings inside.