He tore through the hole in the wall—his hole, jagged and brutal—and the moment we broke into the night air, the world shifted.
The cold hit me like a slap, shocking and sharp. But he didn’t slow. Didn’t falter. Only when we were clear—clear of the flames, the smoke, the lies—did he set me down.
My knees buckled.
I wasn’t built for this kind of survival. But he held me steady, hands anchoring me like I was something sacred. Like I hadn’t just almost burned alive. Like I was his.
And maybe I was.
The warehouse behind us was a glowing inferno, casting long, snarling shadows across the pavement. I turned to face it, heart hammering in rhythm with the crackling wood. Watching it fall apart felt like shedding a second skin—one made of Callista’s threats and every lie I’d been told since the day she vanished.
Hades stood beside me, silent and solid, as our team stepped out of the darkness like ghosts.
Gideon broke first, because of course he did. A grin tugged at his mouth, all teeth and trouble. “Told you she’d come back,” he said, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Scar stood next to him, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “You two look like shit,” he said flatly. It was practically affectionate, coming from him.
I managed the smallest of smirks, breath still shaky. “We’ve had worse first dates.”
Hook leaned against the hood of a sleek black car, that permanent smirk of his flickering at the edges. Jafar didn’t move—just stared, unreadable and unnerving, like he could see the ash still clinging to my soul.
Behind us, the fire roared, burning Callista’s legacy to nothing but dust and smoke. And for once, she couldn’t twist the truth. Couldn’t rewrite the ending.
I looked at the flames, then at Hades. His hand found mine, and I didn’t let go.
Something in me had changed.
Whatever softness was left had hardened into steel.
And I knew one thing with absolute certainty…
This war wasn’t over.
But I wasn’t running anymore.
I had fire in my lungs and Hades at my side.
Let them come.
Chapter 30
Hades
She stepped into the suite like sin wrapped in steam.
The scent of smoke still clung to her skin—mine, all mine—layered now with soap and heat and the barest trace of fear. I didn’t move at first. Just watched. Watched as water beaded on her collarbone, kissed her shoulders, slid down her spine like it had any right to touch her before I did.
A towel clung to her hips. Barely. The rest of her was a canvas of soft skin and haunted eyes. She didn’t speak right away. My chest ached from the restraint it took not to devour her then and there.
"Still keeping watch, Hades? What am I, your pet?"
Her voice teased—but it trembled, and I caught it. That crack in the foundation. That fracture where her strength faltered.
Good.
I wanted her broken open. Not because she was weak. Because she was real. With me.
I moved closer. Slow. Controlled. Every step calculated. I reached out and brushed her damp hair from her shoulder, my fingers skimming skin that still steamed from the heat of the shower. I could feel the thrum of her pulse beneath my fingertips. She didn’t pull away.
