“Okay, what am I missing?” I sit up straighter, my gaze flicking between them. “Whatstakes?”
“It’s a long story,” Hayes says, rising to his feet and pulling Amber up with him. “And you need to rest.”
I kick the covers off with a huff, the silky fabric slipping to the floor like a fallen curtain. “I’m not going back to sleep until you start talking.”
“Tomorrow,” Hayes calls over his shoulder, already halfway to the door, Amber at his side. “Ambs and I have dinner with my mother. And we’re already late.”
I shoot him a sharp look. “Kora’s here too?”
“I told you. Long story.”
“Then give me the short version!” I snap. “Starting with yourcousins. Like the guy who was in here five minutes ago, watching me sleep, with a sword at his side and major ruthless assassin energy. Call me crazy, but something tells me they’re not actually your family.”
I picture bitchy Selene and the flirty little looks she gave Hayes. Definitely not cousin behavior.
Then Nikolas flashes through my mind: that sexy smirk, those cold eyes like bottled forest fire. He might be good looking enough to pass for a Vassilios, but he’s no blood relative. Of that, I’m certain.
Hayes stops in the doorway, his shoulders sinking like someone who’s just realized they’ve lost the fight.
“They’re Watchers.” He turns back and exhales slowly. “They protect what matters here. Territory.Gates. High-ranking houses,” he says. “And the strongest serve my family.”
“They’re, like, our bodyguards,” Amber chimes in.
I’m pretty sure she’s trying to be helpful, but it only grates. I hate that she clearly knows more about whatever’s going on than I do.
And why is she so damn zen about everything?
If anything, she should be the one freaking out about being trapped in the Underworld. She’s supposed to be the sunshine-and-glitter sister. The one who screams at spiders and cries over chipped nails.
I’m the one who loves the darkness and weirdness—the moody horror junkie who doesn’t flinch at blood and dreams in shadows. Yet here I am, feeling like I’m losing my mind, while she struts around in a couture funeral gown like she’s at the Met Gala.
“But your dad was just a businessman,” I say. “What did he need bodyguards for?”
He gives me a tight, humorless smile. “I think we both know my family’s not actually in the shipping industry.”
Oh. Right.
“Try to keep up, Ally.” Amber snorts. “Hayes’s father was the King of Hades, obviously.”
I cough. “I’m sorry, thewhat?”
“Mr. Vassilios was Hades.” She stares at me like I’m the slowest person alive. “You know. The Greek god?”
I look from her to Hayes, studying their faces, searching for the tell. The smirk. The punchline. But there’s only silence and something sad and heavy inHayes’s eyes, like a truth he’s been carrying for too long.
“No… that can’t be true…” I say.
It’s impossible. Hades isn’t real. He’s a myth. A story.
And even if he was real, he’s evil. The dark lord of the Underworld. He releases monsters, curses souls, and eats babies for breakfast—probably. Not a man I’ve known almost my entire life who wore polished, tassel shoes and Armani suits and made dad jokes at family barbecues.
“Look around, Ally. Is it really that hard to believe?” Amber says, then lights up like a Christmas tree. “And Hayes, he’s the Crown Prince. That means he’s next in line for the throne.”
I recoil against the headboard.
“No. That’s—no.”
Crown Prince? What is she even saying?
