Page 54

Chapter

Thirty-Four

PRIDE

I was reeling, and needed fresh air. I went out to the side yard. Diana was still with the children out front.

That...had been a lot.

And just as Sloth was an introvert so was I. I needed space and quiet to settle and calm.

The smell of cypress and smoke invaded my senses, so potent that if I closed my eyes I could half-convince myself I was back in the Underworld.

It had a particular scent–not the fragrant smoke of Gluttony’s kitchen, nor the herbal kind Sloth burned while meditating—but something older, sharper, laced with brimstone and ancient soil.

It was the type of scent you felt in your teeth.

I whirled around, lacing my fingers through the wooden garden trellis as the air shifted.

The others felt it too—emotions flickering through the network like wind through chimes.

Lust’s excitement. Envy’s wariness. Gluttony’s sudden stillness.

Even Wrath paused wherever she was in the kitchen, her golden thread thrumming with curiosity.

There was a reason I could hear his laughter in my head and so easily imagine the scent.

He was here.

Hades stepped through the garden gates, and the world exhaled.

Tall and broad-shouldered, the god of the Underworld wore no crown and carried no weapon.

He needed none. Shadows obeyed him instinctively, pulling along his heels like loyal dogs.

His suit was black, tailored, and utterly unremarkable until you tried to remember its details.

The eye slid off it. The mind refused to focus.

Every inch of him was designed to be forgotten, until he chose to be remembered.

He was darkness incarnate from his hair to his clothes, bright blue eyes the only part of him that contained light.

I’d just seen him in the woods when he’d bailed us out of the fight with Apophis, but every time he appeared I was in awe of his power.

Those eyes met mine, filled with recognition and annoyance. I’d take my compliments where I could.

He wasn’t alone.

She moved beside him like twilight—sharp features, unruly brown curls streaked with gray and moonlight.

Her presence hummed with restrained power, not unlike Wrath’s, though honed with precision and purpose.

Where Wrath’s magick was raw and reactive, this woman felt like a scalpel: efficient and unapologetic.

I’d heard the rumors of the witch born of the gods, who’d fucked Zeus back to sleep after her burgeoning powers accidentally awakened him.

Wait, did that have something to do with why everyone was stirring now?

Not that I’d have the guts to ever ask in front of her. Or Hades.

“Aggie,” I murmured, moving toward her quickly. G probably already knew he was here. The others would be upon us in a flash.

The infamous daughter was someone I hadn’t met yet, but was already an enigma in the short-time since she’d awakened: witch-born, death-touched, the woman who had—accidentally, or so the records claimed—awakened Zeus during a previous cycle.

..and had put him back to sleep with her own hands.

She was the only person, mortal or divine, who had ever succeeded in such a feat.

She looked at me now with a smirk that told me she’d do it all again, too.

Fuck, it made me more than a little hard.

“Pride,” she said smoothly. “Still as uptight as I remember.”

“And you’re still tracking mud into sacred spaces, I see,” I replied, eyeing the dried blood and clay crusted along her boots. “Was there a reason you didn’t knock? Diana didn’t mention you’d all...drop by.”

“I didn’t want to be polite,” she said, breezing past me to sit directly in the grass.

Hades followed without comment, his gaze sweeping over the rose bushes and the benches. He gave nothing away. He never did.

“Been trying to nail down your location for the past day. Tricky wards,” Hades drawled, studying the hyacinths.

I raised an eyebrow. Hades unable to find something? Unheard of.

“Luckily, there was a burst of uncontrolled sex magick,” he continued.

I coughed loudly.

The others arrived one by one—Lust first, practically vibrating with the dramatic tension, followed by Gluttony who said nothing but nodded once to Hades. Sloth slouched in but stood straighter than usual. Envy muttered something under his breath that made Aggie grin. Greed, wisely, stayed quiet.

And Wrath...stepped in last.

Something changed then.

The air didn’t shift. It cracked.

When Wrath entered the room, Aggie turned—and for the first time since she arrived, her face changed. Not with recognition, but startled . Her witch senses touched the aura around Wrath and visibly jolted.

“You’re her,” Aggie said flatly.

Wrath raised an eyebrow. “I get that a lot lately. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“The anchor,” Aggie murmured. “The one the prophecies weren’t sure would ever manifest again. The hybrid. Wrath reborn.”

Wrath stiffened slightly beside me, but didn’t back down. “I prefer just Wrath now.”

Hades finally spoke, his voice quiet and firm. “Hecate wouldn’t shut up about you, so naturally Aggie had to come. My apologies for the intrusion.”

He sounded anything but.

“She’s stabilized a power none of the other Wraths could,” Aggie said, circling Wrath like a predator, but not with malice. “You’re not leaking emotion like a punctured vein. You’re channeling your magick well.”

Aggie whistled low under her breath. “Impressive. Dangerous.”

“Necessary,” G added.

Aggie turned back to Hades. “We need to tell them.”

I felt every Sin go still at once.

He nodded. “Hecate’s mirror is an important artifact we had thought was lost through time. It is a portal to the Underworld, and can drive mortals mad. When your burst of Wrath leveled the cabin, it channeled it to me. I knew where you were and came for the mirror.”

“And found us,” Gluttony finished.

A silence fell—tense, charged, almost reverent.

Hades looked at him with faint disdain. “For now.”

Aggie gave Wrath a slow, assessing look. “We’ll train together. I know a bit about balancing witch powers with those from the gods and beyond.” Her eyes darted to the ground. “Plus, I was hoping for a new friend?”

She glanced up slightly at Wrath.

Wrath nodded excitedly. “When do we start?”

Hades’s answer was immediate. “Wait for the children to leave first,” he chastised.

No one argued.

Hades stepped back, adjusting his cuffs like this was a boardroom rather than the brink of divine war.

“Darling,” he said, voice cool as steel as he turned to Aggie. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She didn’t look at him, just waved a dismissive hand. “Bye, Daddy.”

He started toward the shadows near the cypress trees, and they bent to him like courtiers bowing to a returning king. Then he vanished, the air folding in behind him like a curtain drawn shut.

The group began to disperse—Greed first, muttering about needing weapons; Envy close behind, already reaching for his phone to check in with his network. Sloth faded back toward the house, muttering something about boosting the wards. Gluttony lingered, gaze unreadable, before finally turning away.

Only Lust and I remained.

Lust crossed his arms, eyes glittering. “You sure you’re ready for this, sweetheart? She might actually kill you.”

“She’d have to get in line,” Wrath replied. “And I don’t break easily.”

We all laughed, and I remembered the children.

“Shall we join Diana until they depart?” I asked.

Aggie clapped. “I love children! Let’s go.”

And with that, we made our way through the house, Wrath’s hand clasped in mine. The sunlight slanted through the window to paint the old flagstones in honey and cream. Out front Kiva and the others scampered around the table, arms full of wildflowers, their laughter echoing off the house.