“In here,” the minotaur snaps in a gruff voice, pushing my shoulder.
Everett growls, Krystian shouts my name, and Zaid asks if I’m okay. Rafe remains quiet—suspiciously so—and when I glance at him over my shoulder, his gaze is fixed on the minotaur, his eyes flaring with a deadly promise.
I try to give him a smile, but the minotaur shoves me again, and my smile shifts into a grimace.
Fuck. Ow.
We finally enter what appears to be a throne room, and I can’t help but gawk, momentarily forgetting the shit show we’ve found ourselves starring in.
“Woah.”
It’s vast, more of an arena than a room, with ornate pillars spread an equal distance apart along the walls. The throne itself is an enormous, unsettling work of beauty. The seat appears as if it were crafted from a stone pulled from the depths of the River Styx—black, glimmering, and oddly liquid in its form.
The back of the throne arches up impossibly high, crowned with jagged spires that resemble the peaks of a mountain lost in eternal darkness. Bones and skulls surround the throne, though I’m not sure if they’re merely for cosmetic sake or if there’s a reason for their intricate arrangement. Vines of withered, blackened roses crawl up the sides, their petals frozen in perpetual decay.
Hades sits on his throne, his presence dominating the room. His form is cloaked in shadows—the flickering light never fully illuminating him—yet his molten gray eyes seem to pierce through the dark like the steel of two swords. The power he radiates is suffocating, a constant, pressing force that makes it impossible to look away.
“Kneel,” he instructs, and the minotaur shoves on my shoulders, forcing me to my knees.
On either side of me, my guys are forced down as well.
Hades watches us calmly from his seat on the throne, his long fingers tapping against his armrest that I’m pretty sure is actually a femur bone.
“I could ask you five why you thought it would be a good idea to sneak into my realm,” Hades begins, his tone almost conversational despite the sharpness in his eyes. “Or why you decided to attack my loyal guard.”
This is directed at Everett, who doesn’t look the least bit repentant. Behind him, Cerberus growls and slams a hand down on Everett’s shoulder, hard enough that Everett grimaces.
“But I have a far more important question to ask…” Hades’s head swivels in my direction. “How are you alive?”
Out of everything I expected him to say, it wasn’t that.
I blink at him, certain I heard him wrong, but Hades’s impassive gaze doesn’t waver. I can’t help but compare him to…Rafe.
And that’s fucking terrifying.
Rafe may be a psychopath, but I know he’s on my side, always.
Hades?
A shiver of fear ripples down my spine.
“I-I don’t know what you mean,” I say, frowning.
Hades’s fingers repeatedly tap against the armrests of his throne. “How.” Tap. “Are you.” Tap, tap. “Alive?” Tap.
Everett snarls. “I won’t let you fucking hurt her.”
“We won’t let you lock her away again,” tacks on Krystian, baring his teeth.
Hades blinks—the only outward sign of his confusion. “Excuse me?”
“We know what you did,” Krystian presses on, ignoring Zaid’s warning look. “We know that you trapped her and forced her to reap souls for you and?—”
“Enough.” Hades doesn’t yell the word, but he doesn’t need to. He could whisper it, and the entire world would drop to their knees in reverence.
Hades waits until the throne room is utterly silent before he speaks again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, elf.” His upper lip curls away from his teeth. “All I know is that this reaper here disappeared over four hundred years ago. She was presumed dead.”
“Thea,” I interrupt, my heart hammering in my chest.
