Page 185 of Hades

“I know what it’s like.” His jaw tightened. “Finding out your parents aren’t who you thought they were. That everything you believed about where you came from was a lie.” He paused. “I don’t fucking care where I came from, but if I did, and someone tried to stand between me and the truth, I’d burn the world down to get to it anyway.”

Lettie’s eyes glistened. She didn’t look away from Atlas.

“She deserves answers,” Atlas continued. “Real ones. Not secondhand. Not through us.” He looked at me. “And she deserves the choice to face this on her own terms.”

Zeus was quiet. Watching. Calculating.

I wanted to argue. Wanted to refuse. But Atlas was right, and I fucking hated it.

“She won’t be restrained,” I said finally. “Claire. When she’s brought to the house, she won’t be zip-tied.”

Lettie nodded slowly.

“But she’ll be guarded,” I continued. “Brothers outside. Watching the perimeter. And I’ll be right outside the door. Close enough to hear if you need me.”

“Brock—”

“Non-negotiable, baby.” I cupped her face in both hands. “You want to face her alone? Fine. But I’m not leaving you unprotected.”

She was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

I pulled back and looked at Zeus. “Get Claire to Lettie’s house. Have Rykard and Apollo bring her. Release her from her restraints before they arrive. I want brothers on the perimeter. Kraken, Iapetus, Hermes. No one goes inside unless Lettie calls for help.”

Zeus nodded slowly. “You sure about this?”

“No.” I looked at Lettie, at the woman who’d just killed a man with poison and was now asking to sit across from her kidnapper. “But it’s her call.”

Atlas’ hand landed briefly on my shoulder. A silent acknowledgment.

Lettie’s hand found mine and squeezed.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that this conversation was going to shatter something inside her.

I just hoped we’d all be strong enough to hold the pieces together.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Lettie

The farmhouse looked smaller than before. I stood on the porch with Cerberus at my side, watching the headlights slice through the dusk. Two motorcycles. Rykard and Apollo behind them in a truck with my mother in the back seat.

I still saw her as my mother. Despite the years of abuse and neglect. Despite the fact that I now knew she had stolen me from my family.

She was still the woman who raised me.

My hands were steady. That surprised me.

Everything else felt like it was vibrating at a frequency just below visible. My bones, my blood, the air in my lungs. Everything trembled but my hands.

The truck stopped first. Rykard climbed out of the driver’s side. He looked older than he had at the festival, worn down and hollowed out. He helped Apollo into his wheelchair first, working with ease. Apollo’s face was pale, his hands gripping the wheels too tight as he settled into the chair. Then Rykard moved to the back door and opened it. My mother sat in the backseat, staring straight ahead. Not moving.

I walked down the steps. Cerberus stayed at my heel. Silent. Watchful.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.