Page 186 of Hades

Rykard nodded. He didn’t speak. Didn’t look at me directly. Just opened the back door so Mother could step out. She moved like someone sleepwalking. Her steps were mechanical, distant. Her eyes found mine. For a second, I thought she might say something. Apologize. Beg. Explain. But she just stood there.

“Come on,” I said.

I turned and walked back toward the house. Heard her footsteps behind me. Slow. Hesitant. Apollo’s wheelchair rolled closer. “Lettie⁠—”

“Not yet,” I said without looking back. “Please.”

He stopped.

I opened the door and held it, waiting for her to step inside. Cerberus followed us in, and the door closed behind us with a soft click. The house smelled like lavender and rosemary. Like home. Except it wasn’t.

“Your room,” I said.

She looked at me. Her mouth opened, then closed.

“Go.”

She walked down the hallway, and I followed. Cerberus stayed between us. The den was exactly as she’d left it. Recliner in the center, side table with her water glass and remote. Her blanket folded over the armrest. Her sanctuary. The place where she’d spent years pretending. She sat down slowly, pulled the lever, and let the chair recline.

I stood in the doorway.

“Why?” I asked.

Her hands folded in her lap. “Violet⁠—”

“Don’t call me that.”

She flinched.

“Why did you take me?”

Silence.

I stepped into the room. Cerberus moved with me, his eyes never leaving her.

“I asked you a question.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“The truth.” My voice was calm. Clinical. “That’s all I want.”

She looked at the ceiling. At the walls. Anywhere but at me.

“They’re waiting outside,” I said. “The club. Rykard. Apollo. Brock. All of them.”

Her head snapped toward me.

“They want answers,” I continued. “They want to know what you did. Why you did it. And they’re not going to be as patient as I am.”

Her breathing quickened.

“But if you tell me the truth, if you tell me everything—” I paused, waiting for her eyes to meet mine. “I’ll protect you.” I moved closer and sat on the edge of the coffee table. “I won’t let them hurt you. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “I can.”

She stared at me, searching my face for something. A lie. A trick. I gave her nothing.