“My loyalty is to you first,” she countered. “You would have been stuck in that state without the cure.”
“Not at the cost of my mate!” The outraged words tore from me. “Never at that cost!”
“But I brought back the plant,” she insisted. “Just as she wanted. To save you.”
That’s when I suddenly knew for certain.
Something was deeply wrong.
The door slammed open.
Orren and Dante burst in, weapons drawn. They froze at the scene, their confused gazes darting between Morrigan and me. They’d never seen me turn on one of my own.
I’d led this team for centuries. Watched more than half our original number fall to the endless tragedy of my mate’s cycles. I had grieved every loss. Never once had I raised a hand against those who stood beside me.
Until now.
“You drugged us,” Orren rumbled. “Where’s Bloom? Where is our queen?”
Dante said nothing. He only stared at Morrigan, his face a mask of dawning horror and betrayal.
“I did what I had to do,” Morrigan said, her gaze sweeping over each of us. “She isn’t coming back. Don’t you see? We can finally move on. We can finally be free.”
“Free?” Dante’s voice cracked.
“Haven’t we suffered enough?” Morrigan’s tone sharpened, rising. “For millennia, trapped in this cycle. The same shit over and over. Hades broken by his obsession, and us chained to his tragedy.” Her eyes found mine. “Now it’s over. I’m sorry I broke first. I’m sorry I couldn’t wait any longer. But I couldn’t watch you diminish further. Not when I had the power to stop it.”
Morrigan’s lie hummed in the air.
She’d always been a competent liar. But I was the God of Death. I knew the taste of falsehood. The scent of betrayal.
“It was you.” The realization struck. “All along. You were the mole.”
Dante looked between us, then understanding dawned, and his face paled.
“They never could have breached the wards on my lake house,” I said, my predatory stare remaining on Morrigan, coldrage boiling through me. “The wards were keyed to my blood. To my team. The only way in was with a key from the inside.”
Silence choked the room.
“How could you, Morr?” Dante asked, his voice breaking. “We’ve bled together. We’ve buried our family together. How could you do this?”
“How could I?” Morrigan’s laugh was a bitter, sharp thing. She turned to me, and her eyes blazed with a resentment centuries deep. “Have I ever meant anything to you, Hades? Have you ever seen me as anything more than a useful tool?”
The accusation hung in the air.
“I was yours first,” she continued, her voice trembling. “Before her. I was in your bed. We had something. Then you saw her, and you left my bed cold.”
My jaw tightened. I remembered. Eons ago, a brief entanglement. It had meant nothing to me—a physical release, a momentary comfort in the dark. I’d assumed she understood.
Clearly, I was wrong.
“Yet I stayed,” Morrigan said. “I swallowed my pride. I gave up my throne, my title, my realm. I abandoned everything to follow you.”
“I never asked you to stay,” I said, the words cold and harsh even in my ears. “I never asked for your sacrifice.”
“You didn’t have to ask!” Her shout was raw, frayed at the edges. “You expected it. Like every king expects the world to bleed for him. You took my loyalty for granted. My service. You tookmefor granted.”
She was right.
