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.

“She’s not going to hurt you,” Harper whispers to me from the other side of the table.

“All the suits are equipped with basic survival functions,” Silas continues as I try to push my craving for ice cream aside. “Flashlights, fire, and ice picks to name a few.”

And then, I see it. The surface of the glove is moving, almost as if it’s alive. Now that I see the movement, I see it everywhere.