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“Have you found her?” Hades barked.
“No, Master. But the offices burned.”
Hades ran his trembling fingers through his hair. Eloise turned away, finished wrapping the man’s arm. Her hands trembled also. The entire scene, all the men and women groaning and in pain, made panic rise inside her.
The front door rattled and opened, a gust of wind entering the hall. A man stood on the doorstep, a woman in his arms. He made a few steps inside and collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Hades rushed toward the man. Eloise hurried to Hades’ side. She squinted at the man lying collapsed on the floor, and she recognized his wheat-blond hair instantly. It was the man who’d captured her and brought her to Hades’ mansion.
He had not brought another prisoner this time. She instantly recognized the woman in his arms.
Grace.
She would recognize her anywhere with her ghost-white powdered face and the copious amounts of rouge that she used. She was missing her wig, and pitch-black hair adorned her head instead.
Hades hauled her into her arms and tipped his head toward the man lying on the floor. “Find him a room,” he barked and carried Grace away without another word.
