“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.
“I’m so sorry, my darling,”
She twisted to face him in the plush chair.
“Hades,” his name was a shaky breath. “Please.”
He looked away, his jaw working to quell his frustration.
“Persephone, I can’t,” his tone was harder this time. She stood, needing distance. The god remained seated.
“I won’t lose her.”
“You haven’t,” Hades pointed out. “Lexa still lives.”
She wanted to argue, but Hades didn’t let her.
“You must give her soul time to decide.”
“Decide? What do you mean?”