That part wanted more.
I let out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the tub like it could hold me steady while everything else inside fractured.
How do you wash off a feeling?
Because I’d burned myself raw, and I could still feel him everywhere.
I stepped out of the tub, water trailing down my skin like ghost hands I couldn’t shake. The steam curled around me, clinging, as if it, too, refused to let me go. But I was already gone—adrift in the aftermath of what I couldn’t scrub away.
The hoodie I pulled on swallowed me whole. The sweatpants slouched low on my hips. Comfort clothes. Armor. Nothing stuck.
The house felt colder than before.
Bigger, too.
I wandered, barefoot and hollow, letting my steps guide me through hallways carved from silence. Every wall echoed with his presence. Every shadow felt like something watching.
I just needed… space.
A distraction.
A way out of my head.
Then I saw it.
A door—usually shut tight—left slightly ajar.
Hades’ study.
Curiosity wasn’t what pulled me forward. It was defiance. A rebellion quiet enough to feel safe but sharp enough to make my heart race.
I slipped inside.
The scent hit me first—leather, smoke, and something sharper beneath. Something distinctly him. The air was heavier here, thicker, like the room had lungs and it was holding its breath.
Books lined the walls—rows and rows of perfectly ordered knowledge. Power. Psychology. Politics. Seduction. Control.
Of course.
I took a step further.
His desk was immaculate. Barely a pen out of place. Except… one envelope.
It sat dead center.
White against the dark wood.
My name on the front.
In his handwriting.
I knew I shouldn’t.
I knew he wanted me to find it.
But I opened it anyway.
Inside: a letter. No salutation. No signature. Just lists. Bullet points.
