Page 157 of Hades

But she didn’t tense. Didn’t pull away.

She exhaled. Long and slow. Like she’d been holding her breath for days and finally remembered how to let it out.

“Zander,” she said. Her voice was steady. Almost relieved.

The man turned to her. His smile widened. Friendly. Warm. The kind of smile that belonged to a man who sold insurance or coached little league.

“Violet,” he said. “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” She set the jar down carefully. “It’s been a year.”

“Has it?” He glanced around the booth. “Time flies. Your products look wonderful as always.”

“Thank you.” She gestured to the display. “Same lavender salve you liked last time. And I added a new chamomile blend if you’re interested.”

“I’ll take both.” He pulled out his wallet. “Best salve I’ve ever tried. Worked better than anything the doctor prescribed.”

Lettie smiled. Genuine. The kind of smile she gave customers who appreciated her work. “I’m glad it helped.”

I watched the exchange. Watched Lettie relax into the familiar rhythm of a sale. Watched her mother stand beside Zander with that soft, eager expression.

And every instinct I had screamed danger.

Not loud. Not obvious.

Quiet. The kind of danger that wore a friendly face and waited for the right moment to strike.

Zander’s eyes flicked to me. Brief. Assessing. Then back to Lettie.

“This your boyfriend?” he asked. Casual. Polite.

“Yes.” Lettie’s hand found mine where it rested against her back. She squeezed it once. “This is Hades.”

“Nice to meet you, Hades.” Zander extended his hand.

I took it his hand. He had a firm grip—not aggressive, just confident.

“Zander,” he said.

“Zander.” I released his hand but kept my body angled between him and Lettie. Subtle. But deliberate.

He noticed. I saw it in the way his smile tightened at the corners. The way his eyes flicked to the patch on my cut.

“Well.” He turned back to Lettie. “I should let you get back to your other customers. But it was good seeing you again, Violet.”

“You too.”

He paid for the products. Lettie wrapped them carefully and handed them over. Professional. Friendly. Nothing unusual.

Then Zander moved to the edge of the booth where Lettie’s mother sat. He leaned down slightly, saying something quiet. Her entire face transformed with a soft, eager smile.

She stood again, and they spoke in low voices. Too quiet for me to hear over the festival noise. But I watched the way her hands twisted together. Nervous. Excited. The way she leaned toward him like he was the only person who mattered.

Lettie exhaled beside me. This time it sounded like frustration.

“That’s why,” she muttered.

“Why what?” I kept my voice quiet.