Page 160 of Hades

He dragged his eyes away from the booth and they met mine. His hands were shaking on the wheelchair’s arms.

“What if I’m wrong?” The words came out fractured. Desperate.

“Then we walk away and never speak of it again.” I let that settle between us for a beat. His jaw clenched. Unclenched. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, fighting for control. “But you’re not wrong. You know you’re not.”

He nodded once. Twice. Like his body was moving independent of his mind, like he was trying to convince his muscles to cooperate with what his brain already knew was true.

I pushed the wheelchair closer, navigating through the crowd with practiced ease. People moved out of the way when they saw us coming. The wheelchair created space. Made people uncomfortable enough to step aside.

We were twenty feet away when I saw him.

Hades.

Standing behind Lettie with his hand at her back. Possessive. Protective. His eyes locked on us with an intensity that made my gut clench.

He knew why we were here.

And he wasn’t happy about it.

I didn’t blame him. If Apollo was right, Hades had just claimed his brother’s sister as his old lady without knowing who she really was. That kind of complication could tear a club apart.

But that wasn’t my problem.

My problem was the woman behind the counter who might be my daughter.

We reached the booth. I positioned Apollo’s wheelchair at an angle that gave him a clear view of Lettie while keeping us out of the main flow of traffic.

Apollo’s face lit up the moment he saw her. “Lettie.” Her name came out soft, almost reverent. “I wanted you to meet my dad.”

Lettie looked up from arranging jars on the shelf. Her entire expression shifted when she saw Apollo. Genuine warmth flooded her features. The kind of softness that made her look younger, kinder. Like the version of herself she showed to people she trusted.

“Apollo.” She smiled, and it reached her eyes. “I’m so glad you came by.”

She moved around the space with easy grace, her attention settling on me with open curiosity. No wariness. No calculation. Just a woman meeting someone important to someone she cared about.

“This is my dad, Rykard,” Apollo said, his voice steadier now. Hopeful.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Lettie said, extending her hand. “Apollo’s told me about you. I’m Violet, but everyone calls me Lettie.”

I took her hand. Warm. Soft. Real.

And the world stopped.

Her eyes. Christ, her eyes were exactly like her mother’s.

No.

Not now.

I held her hand a beat too long, and I saw the flicker of confusion cross her face before she gently withdrew.

“Your products are beautiful,” I managed. My voice sounded strange. Distant. Like it was coming from someone else’s body.

“Thank you.” She gestured to the booth with obvious pride. “Everything’s handmade. Organic ingredients. I grow most of the herbs myself.”

Apollo watched us both. Waiting. Hoping for something I wasn’t ready to give.

Smart kid. Methodical, too. Just like his sister.