Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 168

Hades

I pursed my lips, letting the silence pass before she spoke again.

"She worshipped you," she muttered, her tone inscrutable. Her brow furrowed. "I don’t know why I did not see it." Her eyes grew distant once more, a half-hearted shrug lifting her shoulders. "Because now, in hindsight, the signs were there. I mistook love for reverence."

"It was not your fault," I tried to say, eyeing her still twisted shoulder. It was concerning that she did not seem affected by the horrible state of the joint. It needed attention. But my reports from Kael informed me that she had fought off every Delta. It was like she wanted to prolong the pain, and now, with the words out of her mouth, I knew it was because she believed she deserved the pain she was under.

"I exacerbated it," she countered. "If I had acknowledged it, I would have been more careful. She must have seen the hickey, every lingering touch, every stolen glance. She must have noticed the way I looked at you when I thought no one was watching." Her voice cracked slightly.

My heart lurched at every vulnerable confession, warmth spreading in my chest despite the situation.

"Mine," the flux snarled in my consciousness. We both hung on to every word.

She pressed on, her expression hardening with self-reproach, twisting the warmth in my chest to ice. It was as though she hated all she was admitting to me, that she wished them to be untrue. "And I ignored it. I let it fester. I fed her delusion without meaning to. I pushed her."

I watched her closely, the tension in her posture telling me more than her words ever could. The bruises lining her collarbone were a stark reminder of the battles she waged—both inside and out. The way she sat, unmoving, as if the weight of her guilt had settled into her very bones, made it painfully clear that no physical wound could compare to the torment she inflicted upon herself.

"She made her own choices," I said, my tone firmer now, though it lacked the bite I usually carried. "You can’t control what others feel, no matter how much you wish you could. It is not your fault, Red."

Her lips pressed together, and for a moment, I thought she might argue. Instead, she let out a slow breath, her fingers twitching where they rested against her knee. She smiled, the gesture lacking mirth. "Everyone tells me that," her grip on the key tightened. "It’s never my fault, is it?" Her eyes grew sharp, tears slipping from her eyes, bloody tears falling from the swollen one. "I hate that sentence. It is as if I am not responsible for anything. As if I’m just a victim of circumstance, drifting through life without consequence." Her voice trembled, raw and bitter, and she looked at me then—truly looked at me—with an intensity that stole my breath. "But I know better. I let it happen. Like I let her pull the trigger on herself."

I barely held back a gasp of surprise and reached for her, but she didn’t flinch this time. The bloody tear traced a slow path down her cheek, and the sight of it twisted something deep inside me. The flux within me snarled again, restless and protective, wanting to claim, to comfort, to destroy anything that dared to harm what was his—ours.

"You blame yourself because it’s easier than accepting the truth," I said, my voice quieter now, steady despite the storm within. "That people will believe what they want to believe, no matter what you do. You can’t take responsibility for her obsession, Red. That’s not on you."

She let out a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of warmth. "You were not here. She fought me like she wanted me dead, but when it came time, she chose me over herself. It was like she fought literal demons that she knew she could never win against. She knew I would never have the strength to end her to save myself, so she made the choice for me," she swallowed hard, her gaze distant, haunted. "She saved me by damning herself."

I felt the weight of her words like a punch to the gut. The air between us grew thick with an unspoken grief, pressing against my chest like an iron weight. My hands curled into fists at my sides, a futile attempt to hold onto something—anything—that could make this easier. But there was nothing easy about it.

"You think she did it for you," I said, carefully choosing my words, "but that choice was hers alone. You didn’t force her hand, Red. She decided to save you because she loved you, in her own twisted way."

Her eyes snapped to mine, dark and swimming with emotion. "And what if I made her feel like she had no other way out?" Her voice cracked, raw and full of self-loathing. "What if I could have been the one to save her, but I didn’t? I—" She cut herself off, her hand flying to her mouth as if to trap the words that threatened to spill out.

I exhaled sharply, reaching for her again, this time gripping her wrist gently but firmly. "Listen to me," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. "You can’t live your life asking what-ifs. It’ll eat you alive. You did what you could, and whether you believe it or not, you’re still here. That has to count for something."