“Remember,” he said as his hand touched the handle, gaze flicking back to me, sharper now. “I’ll know if you do.”
And just like that, he was gone.
The door clicked softly behind him, and I was left alone—heartbeat echoing in the silence, thoughts unraveling around me like silk.
He’d taken something with him when he walked out.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted it back.
I sank deeper into the black silk sheets, still warm from where Hades had laid. The scent of him clung to the fabric—smoke, cedar, and something darker. It wrapped around me like a second skin, a quiet echo of the night we’d just shared.
My body still hummed with the memory of his hands. My thighs ached in the best possible way. And yet, beneath the soft comfort blooming in my chest… confusion curled like smoke.
This was dangerous.
This was real.
And I didn’t know what the hell to do with either.
I let out a breath, dragging my fingers across the sheets—when my phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand.
The sound sliced through the stillness like a blade.
I grabbed it quickly, heart lurching when I saw her name flash across the screen.
Callista.
I hadn’t heard from her in days. Not since before the wedding. Not since everything changed.
I swallowed hard and answered. “Callista?”
Her voice was brisk. Sharp. “I don’t have long. Are you alone?”
My gaze darted to the bedroom door, half-expecting Hades to return already, to press his palm flat to the wood like he could sense something was wrong.
“Yes,” I said quietly, pulse quickening.
“Good. Meet me. Today. Tell no one.” A pause. Then, colder, “Especially not him.”
A chill slithered down my spine.
The softness of the morning shattered. My mind started racing, question after question piling up with no time to grab hold of any of them. “Callista, what?—”
“I saw the photo,” she cut in. “You and Hades at that bookstore. If you want the truth… come alone.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, her words still hanging in the air like smoke I couldn’t clear. The truth.
What truth?
I looked down at the silk sheets tangled around my legs—his sheets—and my fingers curled into them like they could keep me anchored.
Everything felt off-kilter. The afterglow. The quiet. The echo of his voice in my ear just an hour ago.
Part of me wanted to stay wrapped in it. To pretend that whatever was brewing outside this bed didn’t matter.
But another part of me—one I couldn’t ignore—wanted answers.
