Page 87 of Hades

“Not just the color,” I added. My voice roughened. Cracked at the edges. “It was the way she looked at me. Like she was trying to decide if I was safe and dangerous at the same time. My mom did that. She had this way of studying people without making them feel judged. Like she could see too much but didn’t want to hurt you with it.”

My mom would look at people, really look at them, and see past the bullshit. Past the walls. Past the armor. She’d see the wounds underneath and know exactly how to help without making you feel weak for needing it.

Dad made a rough sound behind me.

Fuck.

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. Against the burn that felt like I’d swallowed glass, like every word was cutting me open from the inside out.

“Lettie does that.”

Hades’ fingers curled against the table. Not a fist. Not yet. But close.

“She does a lot of things,” I continued. The words came faster now. Desperate, like if I didn’t get them out, I’d choke on them. “Small things. Expressions. The way her mouth pinches when she’s trying not to say what she thinks. The way she softens when someone is hurting, even if she doesn’t understand why they’re hurting.”

I looked down at my useless legs. It was easier than looking at any of them. Easier than seeing the pity or the doubt or the anger. My hands tightened on the wheels of my chair. Knuckles white. Fingers aching.

“She watches families like she’s starving.” The words came out strained, like they were being dragged out of me against my will.

No one spoke.

Not even Hades.

Especially not Hades.

He knew what I meant. They all did. I hadn’t met Lettie before she came to the clubhouse, but I’d heard the rumors about the hippie chick with the gardens. The kind woman with the gentle soul and the reclusive mother. The woman who looked at families like she was trying to memorize something she’d never had. Like she was hungry for connection she didn’t know how to ask for.

Like Mom used to look at children after Colette was taken.

“Last night,” I continued, “when you left her with me, we talked.”

His eyes flashed. The kind of flash that meant he was already planning how to make me pay for it. How to hurt me without killing me. How to remind me that touching what was his came with consequences.

Blood and pain and broken bones.

“I didn’t hurt her.”

“You sure about that?” he asked.

The question should have pissed me off. It didn’t. Because I understood it. If some brother had sat across from Colette and started digging around in wounds she didn’t know she had, I’d want to rip his throat out too. I’d want to make him bleed for every second of pain he caused her.

“I’m sure,” I said. “I asked where she was from.”

“What did she say?” Zeus asked.

“Utah. Said they moved around a lot but didn’t go into detail.”

“Did she mention her father?” Atlas asked.

“No. She said she was raised by a single mom trying to make ends meet, working her way through any man willing to give her a second look.”

Hades’ face hardened.

Yeah. That had bothered me too. What had Lettie been exposed to growing up? How many men did her mother parade through their lives? How many predators had looked at her with hungry eyes while her mother was too busy chasing the next dick to notice?

The thought made my stomach turn.

“Colette’s been missing for over twenty years,” I said. My voice was steady now. Clinical. Like I was reciting facts instead of ripping my chest open. “She was almost two when she disappeared.”