Page 154 of Hades

I kissed her. Slow and deep. Trying to give her something solid to hold onto when the ground started shifting beneath her feet.

She kissed me back. Her hands fisted in my shirt. Her breath came faster.

When I pulled away, her eyes were wet.

“I’ve got you,” I said. “Whatever happens today, I’ve got you.”

She nodded and swallowed hard, then stepped back and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Her mother sat silently in the passenger seat. Watching the road ahead with that same unsettling energy.

I walked to my bike, then climbed on and fired the engine.

Pegasus and Memnon flanked me. One on each side. The three of us formed a protective convoy behind Lettie’s truck as she pulled out of the driveway and headed toward town.

The ride took less than fifteen minutes.

Main Street was already waking up when we arrived. Vendors setting up booths. Early risers claiming their spots. The smell of coffee and baked goods drifting through the morning air.

Lettie pulled into the lot behind the hardware store and parked near booth seventeen. I rolled in behind her and killed the engine. Pegasus and Memnon did the same.

Lettie climbed out of the truck. Her mother followed. The older woman moved with purpose, walking straight to the booth, and sat down in the folding chair Lettie had set up the day before.

She didn’t help.

Didn’t offer.

Just sat there, watching the street. Waiting.

Lettie opened the tailgate and reached for the first crate.

That was when I moved.

I crossed the distance in a few long strides. My hand found her waist before she could lift the crate.

“Baby,” I said.

“What?” Her voice was steady, but I saw the tension in her shoulders. The way her eyes flicked to her mother, then back to me.

I gestured to Pegasus and Memnon. “They can handle this. You don’t need to be lifting all this shit yourself.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’ve been doing this for years, Brock.”

“Yeah, well, now you don’t have to.” I reached for the crate she’d been about to grab.

Her hand shot out and stopped me. “Don’t.”

I looked at her. Saw the stubborn set of her mouth. The protective way she positioned herself between me and her products.

“These are mine,” she said quietly. “My work. My booth. I need to touch them. Arrange them. This isn’t something I can supervise from the sidelines.”

Fuck.

I understood possession. Understood the need to control your own territory. But watching her strain under the weight of those crates made something violent twist in my chest.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself,” I said.

“I’m stronger than I look.”