Page 141 of Hades

“This is Brock,” I said carefully.

“Brock.” She said his name like she was tasting it. “The biker.”

“It’s Hades,” he corrected, his voice low and firm. Not harsh, but absolute. The kind of correction that didn’t invite argument. “That’s my road name. Lettie is the only one allowed to use my name.”

My mother’s eyebrow arched slightly. She studied him for a moment, then nodded as if filing the information away. “Hades. How... biblical.”

“Ma’am.” His voice was polite. Respectful. But I felt the tension radiating off him.

“You’re very tall,” she observed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And strong, I imagine.”

“Strong enough.”

She tilted her head, studying him with that intensity she reserved for Harvest Week. “Do you love my daughter?”

“Mother,” I hissed.

“It’s a simple question, Violet.” She didn’t look at me; she kept her eyes locked on Brock. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“Hmm.” She turned back to the window. “Love makes people do foolish things.”

“Sometimes,” Brock agreed.

“Dangerous things.”

“That too.”

“I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I do.”

She laughed. Soft. Almost sad. “No. You don’t. But you will.”

The words hung in the air like they did every year. Cryptic. Weighted. Meaningless without the context I’d never been given.

I stepped forward. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing, dear.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Just an old woman rambling.”

The same deflection. The same non-answer.

“You’re not that old.”

“Aren’t I?” She finally looked at me. “Sometimes I feel ancient.”

There was something in her eyes. Something I’d seen before during these weeks, something that looked almost like regret.

Then it was gone.

“I think I’ll rest now,” she said. “All this excitement has worn me out.”

She walked toward us without another word. Her eyes locked on Brock as she closed her door with a soft click.