Page 6 of Hades

We filed in once Asclepius had dug the bullet out of Zeus’ shoulder and stitched him up with quick, crude work. Zeus hadn’t made a sound during the procedure. He just sat there with his jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth would crack. The only sign of pain was the white-knuckle grip he had on the armrest and the vein throbbing in his temple, pulsing with every heartbeat.

Now he sat at the end of the table, directly across from King. The two men locked eyes like wolves circling territory neither would surrender. The air between them grew thick enough to choke on. Rage and grief and something darker. Something that tasted like ash and smelled like burning bridges.

Atlas took the seat to Zeus’ left. I claimed the right, making myself a buffer between Zeus and Asclepius, who sat on the other side of me. Secrets were crawling out of the shadows, and I knew they’d be ugly. Twisted and rotten and covered in blood.

I suspected the truth was somewhere in the middle of all this chaos, caught between the hero we worshipped and the monster they claimed he was.

The doubts that had started forming after my father’s phone call drilled into my skull like a migraine. I leaned forward on the table and rubbed my temples, trying to ease the pressure building behind my eyes. The kind that promised a headache lasting for days.

If Poseidon hadn’t called, if I hadn’t come here to help, would my president be dead? Would any of my brothers have made it out of this shithole?

“King, if I may?” Cerberus’ voice cut through the silence like a blade.

King nodded, his eyes never leaving Zeus. Hatred radiated off both men, thick and tangible in a way that made the room feel smaller, hotter, suffocating.

“Lucas Cooper joined the Brotherhood in 1978,” Cerberus began, his voice heavy with the weight of decades-old secrets. “We prospected together. Two years later, he left without a word. No explanation. No goodbye. Just... gone.”

Zeus tensed beside me. His breathing shifted to shallow, controlled breaths. Like he was trying to keep himself from exploding. From reaching across the table and strangling the truth out of everyone in this fucking room.

“In 1987,” Cerberus continued, “Kalden went to Texas and made a treaty with Kronos. He took Zephyr with him.”

“Why?” I asked.

“We never knew. Zephyr grew up in the club. We assumed he was the son of one of the brothers and a club whore.” Cerberus paused, his eyes flicking to King.

“He was Kalden’s grandson,” King added.

Cerberus shifted in his seat, the leather creaking under his weight. “Kalden never told us what the treaty entailed. Only that the Brotherhood would stay out of Texas, and the Gods of Mayhem would stay out of South Dakota.”

“According to Rhea,” Nav interjected, “Kalden showed up in Texas and demanded she stay away from the Brotherhood.”

Silence.

No one made a fucking sound around the table as we absorbed what the old man had just said. Words that didn’t make a lick of fucking sense. My mind raced, trying to connect dots that kept shifting, trying to piece together a timeline that was starting to look like a goddamn conspiracy.

“Don’t you have to be a bastard to join the Brotherhood? I thought that was pretty much the only rule,” Blade, the road captain for the Silver Shadows, asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Cerberus confirmed, his eyes cutting to Zeus. The implication hung in the air, heavy and damning.

“My father wasn’t a bastard,” Zeus growled.

“Yes, he was,” Asclepius said softly. Every head in the room snapped toward him. “We had different mothers. Lucas was nine years old when my parents married.”

The words landed like a bomb. Zeus glared at his uncle. “You knew?” His voice came out as a snarl, feral and raw, barely human. “You knew all this shit and never said a fucking word?”

Asclepius nodded. When Zeus moved to stand, Poseidon and Ares both clamped hands on his shoulders, pinning him in his seat. Zeus winced as the pressure hit his wounded shoulder. “Back the fuck off.”

Neither man moved. They looked at me, and I shook my head. If Zeus stood up, Asclepius would be dead before any of us could stop it. I understood Zeus’ need for vengeance, but we needed answers more than blood right now.

“Why?” Zeus asked, his voice cracking on the word. His eyes locked onto his uncle, betrayal cutting deeper than any knife could, slicing through bone and muscle straight to the fucking heart.

Asclepius sat rigid in his chair, hands fisted on the table, eyes focused on the wood in front of him as if it might hold the answers we were looking for. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“He forced me to keep his secrets.” The words came slow and deliberate. “I met Rhea first. I was fourteen, and I found her wandering around the park. She was so beautiful, so perfect. I fell in love with her instantly.” His voice softened, and for a moment, I heard the ghost of the boy he’d been—young and hopeful and not yet broken by this life. “To this day, I can’t believe I had the balls to walk up and talk to her.”

“I sat with her for hours in the park, and she told me everything. About Kalden, about her brother Kane. About what she’d seen and why she ran.” He paused, swallowing hard. “In that moment, she became my best friend. I brought her back to the clubhouse because I wanted to protect her. But once Lucas set his sights on her, it was over.”

I didn’t miss the fact that he no longer called his brother by his road name. Kronos was dead. Lucas was the monster who’d taken everything from him.