Page 175 of Hades

Because for Lettie I’d leave hell.

But for anyone who tried to take her, I’d bring it with me.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Lettie

Consciousness returned in pieces.

Cold concrete beneath me. The smell of rust and motor oil. A single bare bulb swinging overhead, casting shadows that moved like living things across corrugated metal walls.

A warehouse.

Abandoned, judging by the dust and the way sound echoed off empty space.

My hands were zip-tied in front of me, the plastic cutting into my wrists as I sat in a wooden chair that was bolted to the floor.

Professional.

Planned.

I kept my breathing shallow. Even. I catalogued everything I could without moving.

No windows. One industrial metal door, the kind that locked from the outside. The bulb overhead was the only light source. Twenty feet away, a workbench held tools I couldn’t quite make out. Closer, maybe ten feet to my left, a camping chair sat empty.

Waiting.

Footsteps echoed from somewhere beyond the door. Heavy. Deliberate. Coming closer.

I let my eyes drift shut. Kept my body loose. Played the part.

The door opened with a metallic screech.

“I know you’re awake, Violet.”

Zander’s voice. Except it wasn’t the Zander I knew. That harmless man at the festival had been a costume. A mask he’d worn while he waited for the perfect moment.

I lifted my head slowly. Blinked like I was disoriented. Let confusion and fear flicker across my face, which wasn’t hard to fake when my heart was actually pounding and my mouth tasted like copper.

“Where—” My voice came out hoarse. Perfect. “Where am I?”

“Exactly where I need you to be.”

He stepped into the light, and I saw him clearly for the first time without the festival crowd and chaos obscuring my view. Mid-forties. dark brown hair going gray at the temples. Steel-gray eyes that looked like they’d been carved from ice. Tall. Broad-shouldered. The kind of man who’d learned violence young and perfected it over decades.

A predator.

Dangerous.

“Please,” I whispered, letting my voice shake. Letting tears well up in my eyes. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why did you⁠—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

I flinched. Genuine reaction that time. His voice had gone from calm to vicious in a heartbeat.

He dragged the camping chair closer and sat down facing me. Close enough that I could smell cigarettes and something chemical. Close enough that if my hands were free, I could reach him.

But they weren’t.