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“We have a bit of a stroll to make. Just know I will be counting the number of times you misbehave, and for each offense, I will cut another finger from your friend. If I run out of fingers, I will move on to toes.” He released her with a jerk. “I trust you will obey.”

They left the vehicle, and as he came around the SUV, he offered his hand to Persephone. Her eyes were bright with hatred. Very few mortals knew the difference between that and passion.

Like a good girl, she accepted him, and they entered the hotel.

“Does Hera know you are using her facility for treasonous activities?”

She spoke quietly as they made their way through the bright lobby.

He laughed—genuinely. That was rare, but he found her question amusing. Clearly Hades did not tell her anything. Hera had offered several floors to him for his own private use. And use them he did—for sex, murder, hostages, whatever he wanted.

“Of all the gods, Hera has been on our side the longest,” he said.

It helped that she despised her husband and that he continued to forgive her despite her many betrayals—but that was the nature of love, the greatest weakness of all. It would be Zeus’s downfall just as much as it would be Hades’s.

“I assumed you would be more discreet,” Persephone said. “Since you are breaking the law.”

He leaned close, enjoying how she cringed as he neared.

“You broke the law,” he pointed out, his lips grazing her ear. “Youengaged in battle with the gods.”

“Youkidnapped my friend.”

“Is it a crime if no one knows?” Her jaw tightened, and he could feel her seething hatred. He wanted to taste it, and he would. Soon. “Do not waste your thoughts onhow you will torture me when I die. Hades has already claimed that honor.”

She offered a bark of laugh. “Oh, I will not torture you when you die. I will torture you while you live.”

He hoped she did. He liked pain.

He dragged her upstairs, forcing her to keep pace with him. When they made it to the room, he held the door open for her. It was the least he could do—the absolute least.

She kept her eyes on him as she entered until she caught sight of her friend in the corner.

“Sybil!”

He knew he had her obedience by the tone of her voice. He’d heard that sharp cry too many times in the past not to know what it meant. She was horrified, and she understood the threat.

He let her go to her friend, who was barely awake, bloodied and beaten. She knelt at her feet and spoke her name quietly, desperately. Theseus liked the sound and his head tipped with pride. It was a mournful song and he had been the composer.

He waited.

When she turned on him, she finally caught sight of the other body.

“Harmonia!”

“Oh yes,” he said. “That one was with her when we showed up. Made a mess of things, so I was forced to make a mess of her.”

“You didn’t have to hurt them,” Persephone said, her voice trembling.

Good.

“But I did. You will understand what it takes oneday to win a war,” he said, then pointed to the large man in the room. “Tannis here is your bodyguard. Tannis.”

The man brandished a knife and placed the blade against one of Sybil’s fingers as a demonstration.

“No!” Persephone lunged.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Theseus said, holding out his hand, palm flat. She froze, breathing hard. Her eyes bright with fury. “Tannis is a butcher’s son. He is an expert carver. He has been ordered to dismember your friend if you misbehave. Of course, not all at once. I will return shortly.”