Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92659 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I knock on the doorframe and wait for him to look up to say, “Busy?”
“Not with anything that can’t wait.” He looks exhausted, the circles beneath his eyes a deeper purple than they were a week ago. The lines bracketing his mouth are deeper too. He sits back in his chair and motions for me to take the seat across from him. “Any progress?”
I hate that my answer hasn’t changed from the last time we spoke. “No. They knew where the cameras are. Our patrols too. No one saw anything, heard anything. The only reason Matthew knew it happened so quickly is because he installed that security system last month.”
“And he didn’t tell us,” Hades murmurs.
“And he didn’t tell us,” I confirm. “He didn’t want to bother us, but I think the real truth is that he didn’t want to insult you by making it seem like he didn’t trust your ability to protect him and his business.”
Hades rubs a tired hand over his face. “He was right. I didn’t protect him.”
If he was any worse a leader, he would drag me over the coals for this. Hades might be the ruler of the lower city, but I’m his right-hand man. I’m the one in charge of security. I’m the one who oversees our patrols and ensures his will is done. “I dropped the ball.”
He gives me a brief smile. “There’s more than enough self-recrimination to go around. Let’s focus on finding them.” He picks up a pen and rolls it between his fingers, his dark eyes going distant. I wait for him to get to whatever destination he’s headed toward. Hades has always been this way, someone who thinks things through before he acts. His only exception was Persephone, and instead of that emboldening him, he’s only become more cautious as a result. “Do you think it’s an inside job?” he finally asks.
I bite down on an instinctive denial. It would make the most sense if whoever destroyed the greenhouse has insider info… It’s also the easiest answer. “It’s possible.” I take a deep breath. “But anyone who lives in the lower city would have that information. We don’t keep our moves secret from our people.” They’ve never given us cause to do so. I sure as fuck hope they’re not behind this.
“I suppose you’re right.” He shakes his head. “Is it naive of me to hope that’s the case? After Andreas…”
“Yeah.” We don’t talk about my uncle, the man who played the role of father to both of us. The old man’s mind started to go years ago, but the truth neither of us could quite handle was the one he’d held back for thirty long years.
Hades’s father, the man who held the title before him, the father who supposedly died in the fire alongside his mother? He is alive. He’s been alive this whole time, ruling his own little kingdom in a city within drivable distance from Olympus.
Not that visiting was easy with the barrier, but best I can tell from all the things we don’t say, both father and son thought the other was dead in the fire that scarred the man before me. It makes sense why Zeus allowed that to happen. He had a vested interest in weakening the lower city, and having a child inherit the title allowed him to shove Hades back into the realm of myth. What I don’t understand—what Hades can’t forgive—is that Andreas also knew the truth and kept it from him.
So many lies. So many betrayals.
I’m not an innocent. I know Andreas had a hard choice to make, and he made the best one for Olympus—specifically the lower city. And it was the best choice for the lower city. The Zeus who would go so far as to risk war to kill his rival wouldn’t take kindly to that same rival returning to the city after being presumed dead by the public. Andreas let my Hades believe his father was dead…but he also let that Hades believe his son was dead. The only way to drive him from the city. The only way to keep them both safe.
I understand difficult choices. I even understand putting the greater good above the happiness of a single person. Or two people, as the case may be.
But that doesn’t mean it was the right call for the kid I grew up idolizing. The boy who had to become a man much too soon, who had the weight of half of Olympus on his shoulders, while most teenagers were only worried about kissing pretty people beneath the bleachers.
“I would prefer to believe that all our people are above reproach, but I won’t bet the life of my wife and unborn children on it. Look into everyone again. Prove that our trust is founded.” He hesitates. “Please.”