Jezlyn Lang

“Right,” Hades says dryly. “Sorry, I just forgot how much I don’t care.”

"Hades,” Chiron says with a smile, “welcome back.”

The car’s front door opens and literal smoke pours out. Honestly, I don’t know how he can breathe in there.

I don’t know what it is about Hades, but at the mere mention of his name, my face contorts into an ugly grimace. I swear, it’s an involuntary reflex to his name.

As I stare at Harper’s palm, her armour begins to move again. But it’s shifting more slowly this time, almost as if it needs time to think.