He didn’t move. Just stood there like a statue with regret carved into his face.
Callista flicked her hair off her shoulder, lips set like stone. Then she struck a match.
That tiny flame danced like it knew it was about to become something more. Something monstrous.
“No—no!” I screamed again, voice cracking as I thrashed, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might shatter my ribs. “We can talk. We can fix this!”
Callista looked back at me, her smirk painted in cruelty. “There’s nothing left to fix, baby sister.”
Then she dropped the match.
Fire erupted.
It devoured the floor in seconds, wild and ravenous, flames spiraling up like they’d been waiting to be unleashed. Heat slammed into me, suffocating and furious. My body jolted, instincts screaming, adrenaline flooding every nerve like liquid lightning.
“Clint, please!” I shrieked. “Help me”
But he just stood there—watching me burn.
The flames surged, the roar of it loud as a jet engine, and I realized this wasn’t just fire.
This was Callista’s revenge.
And I was the offering.
The fire screamed around me. Not crackled—screamed. Like it knew what it was doing. Like it wanted me. Heat licked up my arms like greedy hands, clawing, claiming. My lungs burned with smoke and panic, but I held on. I had to. I couldn’t fall apart—not yet.
Then—boom—a metal door slammed open, hard enough to shake the flames.
And there he was.
Hades didn’t walk in. He stormed in—like a war god painted in blood. His hands dripped crimson, dark and wet and gleaming under the firelight, and his eyes?—
God. His eyes were feral.
They locked onto me like I was the only thing that mattered. The inferno didn’t touch him. Nothing ever did. The entire world dulled beneath the sound of his footsteps—heavy, deliberate, mine.
Then his hands were on me. And the chains that had held me like a prisoner? Gone. Ripped apart like they were paper, his bare hands shredding them without a second thought. I gasped as freedom hit my lungs, cool air slicing into the smoke that choked me.
I stumbled forward, dizzy and shaking, but my eyes locked onto something small—silver. The lighter.
Hope flared hotter than the fire.
I dove for it, fingers closing around the slick metal just as Callista turned to run, her expression twisted into something that might’ve been regret or maybe just survival.
“No,” I growled, voice rough from the smoke but alive with fury. “You don’t get to walk away.”
I hurled the lighter.
It landed exactly where she’d started this madness—her exit path, soaked in gasoline.
Fwoom. The flames answered like they’d been waiting. A ring of fire erupted, trapping her, snarling and snapping like a beast set loose.
She stopped short, eyes wide. And I didn’t care.
I turned back to him—to Hades.
He was watching me like I’d just become something new. Something terrible. Something he understood.
