Page 127 of Hades

“Darlene.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Brock—”

“You knew how she died,” he said. Still calm. Still quiet. “You knew the method. You knew what she did. And you knew she deserved it.”

My throat closed up. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

If he yelled, I could fight back. If he recoiled, I could harden myself. Build the walls. Lock the gates. Become the version of me that didn’t need anyone.

But he wasn’t doing either of those things.

He was just there.

Watching me. Waiting.

“I don’t—” I tried again.

“How many?” he asked.

The question hit like a slap.

“How many what?”

“How many people have you killed, Lettie?”

The words hung in the air. Stark. Undeniable.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

And I realized, with a clarity that felt like falling, that this was the moment. The one I’d been waiting for my entire life. The moment someone saw me. Really saw me. All of me. The gardens and the poisons. The healer and the killer. The woman who saved and the woman who destroyed.

I could have lied.

I could have denied it. Played innocent. Convinced him he was wrong.

But what was the point?

He already knew.

And if I lied now, I’d lose him anyway.

“I don’t keep count,” I said finally.

His expression didn’t change. “Ballpark.”

“Hundreds. Maybe more.” I paused.

He nodded slowly. But this time it wasn’t like I’d just told him the weather. His jaw tightened. His hands gripped the edge of the table. The casual acceptance fractured for just a moment, and I saw it. The weight of what I’d actually said. The scope of it. The sheer fucking scale of what I’d done.

“Hundreds,” he repeated quietly.

“Yes.”