His lip curled, cruel and slow. A predator baring its teeth. “Correction,” he murmured. “He was your best friend. My wife doesn’t need any other man in her life.”
The room tilted.
“What about my father?” I threw back, fury sharpening my voice. “Or is he off-limits too?”
Hades smiled.
But it wasn’t soft.
It was wicked.
“He sold you to me, sweetheart,” he said, eyes glittering. “I’ll be the only one you ever call Daddy.”
The air snapped.
Cliff flinched. His face twisted—pure disgust. “You’re sick,” he growled.
And then—he moved.
Fast. Too fast.
But Hades moved faster.
He stepped aside like it was a dance, a blur of motion—and then his fist crashed into Cliff’s ribs with a brutal, punishing crack.
Cliff went down hard, a choked sound ripping from his throat as he hit the floor.
“Cliff!” I screamed, heart lurching out of my chest.
I surged forward—but Hades turned on me.
Just his gaze.
That was all it took.
He didn’t raise his hand. He didn’t need to.
“Touch him,” he said, voice cold as winter, “and I’ll actually try to hurt him.”
I stopped.
Froze.
Because I believed him. God, I believed him.
His eyes held me there—pinned me like prey caught mid-flight. Possessiveness radiated off him in waves, licking down my spine, coiling in my gut like fear and heat tangled into one.
I swallowed hard. Looked back at Cliff, curled on the floor, one arm braced over his ribs.
Still breathing. Barely.
But I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Get up,” I said, my voice trembling. Not to Hades. To Cliff. “Please—just get up.”
Cliff groaned, pushing himself onto his hands, glaring at Hades with fury that didn’t quite mask the fear underneath it.
