Page 128 of Hades

“And you’re sure? Every time?”

I met his eyes. Held them. “I don’t make mistakes, Brock. I research. I watch. I confirm. Then I act.”

“With plants.”

“With plants.”

He leaned back in his chair, ran a hand through his hair, and exhaled long and slow. His fingers drummed against the table once. Twice. Three times.

I waited for it. The disgust. The rejection. The moment he’d stand up and walk out of my life forever.

Instead, he said, “You’re fucking terrifying, you know that?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Terrifying,” he repeated. A smile ghosted across his mouth. Not humor. Something darker. Something that looked a lot like pride. “And brilliant. And so goddamn dangerous I should probably be afraid of you.”

“But you’re not.”

“No.” He picked up his mug again, looked at it, then looked at me. “I’m not.”

I didn’t understand. Couldn’t process what was happening.

“Why?” I whispered.

“Why what?”

“Why aren’t you afraid? Why aren’t you leaving? Why are you—” I gestured helplessly at the table. At him. At the tea. “Why are you still here?”

He set the mug down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. He looked at me with an intensity that made my chest ache.

“Because I see you, Lettie,” he said. “All of you. The woman whose heart is so fucking big that she takes care of everyone around her. And the woman who poisons predators and doesn’t lose sleep over it.” He paused. “And I want both of them.”

My eyes burned. I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Brock—”

“You think I’m some kind of saint?” He laughed, low and rough. “Baby, I’ve killed more people than you ever will. I’ve done things that would make your vigilante justice look like mercy. The difference is, I did it for the club. For my brothers. For power and territory and all the shit that comes with this life.” He reached across the table and took my hand. “You did it for people who couldn’t fight back. For kids who needed someone to care. That doesn’t make you a monster, Lettie. That makes you a fucking warrior.”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

He squeezed my hand. “I’m not leaving. I’m not judging. And I’m sure as hell not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

“Probably.” He smiled. “But I’m not.”

I pulled my hand back and stood again. This time he didn’t stop me.

I walked to the counter. Grabbed the kettle. Poured more hot water even though I didn’t need it. I just needed something to do with my hands. Something to focus on that wasn’t the man sitting at my table telling me he accepted the darkest parts of me.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“What do you want to happen?”