Destined to the Hellhound: BEAST

Chapter 37

"My dad?"

"Yes, he's already here."

"What? He's here?" I stop flying, hovering in the air.

"Hades has limited power," he begins to explain. "He controls The Underworld, but he has very little say in what goes on outside of the gate. His brothers are very lenient when it comes to crimes committed against him. For example, the first time your father attacked me, I was in a weakened state. I had just given away half of my soul, and I had not recovered. He swooped in. Hades asked his brothers for help, but they did not see what your father did as worthy of their intervention. However, he seems to have underestimated their distance from Hades. The years that I was gone were not great for them. They had constant complaints from everyone outside of the Underworld about all of the creatures that were escaping and attacking because I wasn't here to stop them. This time, they had him arrested. Then they brought him down, handing him over to Hades."

"How do you know all this? You've been asleep?"

"He told me." He slips his arms around me, holding me against his chest.

"Who?"

"Hades."

"When?" I lean back to look at his face. "I was right there! He didn't say any of this."

"He shared it with me. Just as we can share things."

I hum. It doesn't make sense, but I guess it does.

I have so many questions but we're already approaching Hades' house and my tongue feels too dry to ask any of them. My dad is in there and I'm going to have to see him.

Panicking, I wipe my bloody knuckles against my dress and try to smooth down my hair.

"Stop it," he takes my hand, blocking me from stressing about my unruly appearance. I don't even know why I care. I guess it's just something ingrained in my brain. I'm supposed to look nice and clean at all times, I'm a princess; it's the rules. "Keep your head up high. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't let your father try to guilt you into feeling bad. This was all his doing."

He's right.

Holding my head up, I roll my shoulders back and squeeze his hand tightly. I can do this.

Inside Hades' house, it's so quiet that I can hear my heart beating in my chest. There is no loud laughter or raucous orgying going on today. The air feels heavy, it's buzzing with anticipation.

The irony of this is not lost on me. We're in the same room where, not so long ago, I sat and watched a play depicting my father, on his knees before Cerberus, begging for his help.

Now, I find him in the same position. On the ground, on his knees, sitting before Hades.

He looks up when we enter the room, and I feel... nothing. My mom and sister are behind him, and Mykle is behind them. I don't want anything to happen to them, but I don't feel anything—pity, anger—just nothing when I look at him. He looks small. Smaller than I've ever seen him. Gone is the regal man that stood in my bedroom only a few days ago. What's left is an unrecognizable thing, weak and powerless.

For some reason, as inappropriate as it may be, I have to fight to keep my face neutral. My lips want to smile. To flash a smug look in his direction.

He was so sure that he could defeat Cerberus, a man who had never done anything to him, except do his dirty work for him when he asked. He got greedy. He wanted the throne without having to pay the price of sitting on it. He wanted the dirty work done but didn't want to pay what he owed.