He leaned in and the rancid scent of his overpriced cologne filled my nose.
“I’d say maybe he actually cares about you as family. But my guess is it’s your young golden pussy he can’t deny.”
“The hell,” I whispered. “I don’t even know who you are.” The words were a hiss as I kept trying to tug my hand back, but he just gripped it harder. The pain became unbearable, like he was crushing my wrist.
“I want you to tell Hades that if he doesn’t fall in line, there will be repercussions. And those are going to be in the form of making you hurt.”
He tightened his hand so hard on my wrist I felt my eyes water.
“He hurt my boy, so I’ll hurt something that he holds precious.”
“Oh God. You’re… you’re Trevor’s father?” He bared his teeth, not in a grin, but in something wholly sadistic.
“Make sure you pass my message along.” He let go of my hand so suddenly that my body banged against the car door. The locks were disengaged, and I scrambled out. Just as I shut the door, the SUV was peeling away and speeding off.
I stood there stunned as I stared at the departing vehicle.
It was then when I looked down at my wrist, at the angry bruise forming on my flesh in the shape of his fingers. He wanted me to tell Hades. I wasn’t going to.
Because if I knew anything about Hades and my short amount of time with him, it was that things would escalate to where everyone and everything would drown in violence.
Chapter23
Persephone
I’d been thankful Hades hadn’t been home when I got back from school, and even more grateful that he’d sent me a text saying he wouldn’t make dinner, that he’d be home late.
At the end of the night I found myself in his bathroom under the spray of water so hot it nearly burned my skin.
I didn’t know how long I stood under the water, but I heard a rhythmic thumping come closer a second before there was a knock on the bathroom door and it opened.
“Sweetheart?” Hades’ voice was deep and smooth, like the whiskey he drank.
I closed my eyes and pressed my bruised wrist to my side. I cleared my throat and said, “H-hey.”
He was silent, and a moment later I pushed the glass shower door aside and forced a smile. He stood in the doorway, his expression impossible to read.
He cocked his head to the side as he eyed me—examined me. “What’s wrong?”
I made my smile bigger, which I knew looked uncomfortable as hell and totally forced. I shook my head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Still with a stoic expression, his gaze traveled along my body—what he could see, anyway. He was silent for a long while… too long.
And then he was stepping all the way in, pulling the glass door aside all the way, and his gaze immediately—instinctively—landed on my bruised wrist.
“Who did that to you?” His voice was dangerously low, and I shivered despite the hot spray of the shower.
I wasn’t fooled by his relaxed posture or even his tone. He looked powerful standing before me, watching me with this unrestrained violence that I knew could be unleashed.
He cradled my hand in his. His focus was trained on my arm, as he slid his fingers along the edge of the bruising.
“Who did this, Bunny? Tell me.”
I shook my head, although I knew I couldn’t lie to him. Not for long anyway. “I can take care of myself.”
He smiled, but it was harsh, cold, and didn’t reach his eyes. “I know you can, baby. But I still want you to tell me.” He cupped the side of my face, water soaking the sleeve of his suit. “I want you to tell me so I can take care of it.”
I shivered, staring up at his face with wide eyes and my heart in my throat. And as much as I was terrified of what Hades would undoubtedly do, a darker part of me wanted Martin Wilcox to hurt the way he’d hurt me.