Page 143 of Hades

Maybe it was time to pay.

Cerberus leaned harder against me. A reminder. A comfort.

I wrapped my arm around him and held on.

Whatever was coming, I’d face it. I always did.

But this time, I wouldn’t be facing it alone.

And that terrified me more than anything.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Hades

The clubhouse felt like a cage.

A whiskey sat untouched in my hand as I leaned against the bar, watching brothers move through their routines like nothing was wrong. Pool balls cracked. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed too loud at a joke I didn’t hear.

Everything looked normal.

Everything felt wrong.

Cerberus had been restless the last time I was at Lettie’s. Pacing. Watching the road. Ears forward like he was tracking something I couldn’t see. That dog didn’t get worked up over nothing. He was trained. Disciplined. If he was on edge, there was a reason.

Lettie had been distracted too. She kept listening toward her mother’s room when she thought I wasn’t watching. Her body language was off, tighter, more alert. Like she was waiting for something to happen.

And the mother.

Fuck, the mother.

That woman had more energy in the past week than she’d had in years, according to Lettie. Asking questions. Getting dressed. Leaving her room. Acting interested in things she’d never given a shit about before.

That wasn’t recovery.

That was anticipation.

I didn’t have evidence. Didn’t have proof. Just instinct screaming at me that something was coming, and I didn’t know what the fuck it was.

“You good, brother?” Atlas appeared beside me, his own beer in hand.

“Yeah.”

He didn’t believe me. I could see it in his face. But he didn’t push. Just nodded and moved on to talk to Kraken near the pool table.

I pulled out my phone and texted Pegasus.

Ride past Lettie’s place. Wide loop. Report anything unusual.

Three dots appeared immediately.

On it.

I’d had prospects running wider patrols near her property for the past two days. Nothing obvious. Nothing that would spook her. Just eyes on the road, watching for unfamiliar vehicles. Strangers. Anything that didn’t fit the pattern of her quiet farmhouse life.

Coeus had been running plates on every car that didn’t belong in town. Checking names. Cross-referencing with known threats. So far, nothing had pinged.

But Harvest Week was three days away.