Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 184

Hades

James exhaled, measured, but I could see the frustration buried beneath his careful mask.

Ellen had taken his argument, dismantled it, and turned it into a weapon.

And he knew it.

But James was not a man who enjoyed losing.

So he pushed again.

"And when the day comes that he casts you aside?" he asked, voice smooth, quiet. "What then, Princess? Where will all this strength of yours take you then? "When you finally get off his lap…" James trailed off, letting the words settle, a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth. "What will be left of you then?"

His voice was smooth, almost pitying, but the venom in it was unmistakable. He leaned back, studying Ellen as if she were a puzzle missing its final piece. "You fight so hard to prove your independence, yet you sit there, perched on his throne—on his lap, at his mercy, as if you have already surrendered."

My vision darkened.

The Flux churned, roared, raged.

It wanted violence. It wanted James’ spine torn from his body, his blood painting the floors.

But Ellen’s grip on me did not loosen. If anything, it tightened.

Not yet.

Her pulse, though rapid, was steady. Her breathing was even.

And when she spoke, her voice was calm, measured, cutting.

"Is that what this is about, James?" she mused. "The fact that I am seated here and not standing over there—beside you? That I have chosen a throne of my own, rather than be a well-trained hound at my father’s heel?"

James’ smirk twitched, but he did not falter. "A throne, you say? You’re delusional, Princess. If this is a throne, then what does that make you? A queen?"

Ellen tilted her head, gaze unyielding. "No. But neither am I a pawn."

A sharp, electric silence cut through the air.

James’ amusement waned, the mask slipping just slightly.

Ellen didn’t stop.

"You act as if my choices have stripped me of power," she continued. "As if my worth is dictated by whether or not Hades marks me, as if my position is meaningless without some grand public title." She exhaled, shaking her head. "You truly think I am desperate for some superficial claim? That his recognition—or yours, for that matter—defines me?"

She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping just enough to slice through him.

"I was born a daughter of Darius and Lyra." A pause, a soft, knowing smile. "And yet, here you are, trying to convince me that I am not enough unless I am named by a man."

A flicker of something dangerous crossed James’ face.

Annoyance.

Frustration.

She had backed him into a corner, and he knew it.

His fingers tapped against the table, slow and deliberate. "You’re dodging the point, Ellen." His voice was still smooth, but there was an edge to it now. "You can twist words all you want, but none of this changes the fact that you are sitting here as nothing more than a kept woman."

The Flux snapped.

Dark, creeping tendrils spilled from my fingers, coiling and twisting like living shadows. Not yet, not yet, not yet.

Ellen sensed it.

She felt me unraveling.

Her grip on me tightened further, nails biting into my skin, the silent warning pressing into my flesh—don’t.

She was right.

This was her battle.

And yet, James had pushed too far.

Ellen’s lips parted slightly, her expression unreadable. For the first time, she tilted her head back slightly, as if considering. And then—

She laughed.

A soft, breathy thing. Amused. Almost pitying.

"Oh, James," she murmured, shaking her head, her fingers finally relaxing against my arm. "Is that really the best you can do?"

James’ jaw ticked.

"You think calling me a ’kept woman’ will wound me?" she mused, watching him as if he were an amusing fool. "Is that what you tell yourself? That you still hold power over me simply because of that?

She exhaled, leaning back into me, deliberate in her ease, in the way she settled against my chest. "That must be exhausting for you, James. To come here, to say all this, only to realize that your words mean absolutely nothing to me."

James’ fingers clenched against the table.

It was slight. Barely noticeable.

But I noticed.

Ellen did, too.

She smiled.

"The difference between you and me?" she murmured. "I don’t need to be named." Her voice softened, but the words were razor-sharp. "I don’t need a title, a claim, or a declaration before a pack."

And then—the killing stroke.

"I simply am."

A beat.

A slow, cold silence stretched between them.

James stared at her.

His jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with something he tried to smother—something dangerously close to anger.

And yet, he did not respond.

Because there was nothing left to say.

Ellen had won.

Suddenly, James’ smirk returned, sharper now, his eyes glittering with the cruel satisfaction of a man who had found the chink in his opponent’s armor.

"You can say all the pretty words you want, Princess," he murmured. "But at the end of the day, words won’t change reality. And reality is this—Hades will take another Lycan as his true chosen mate."

Ellen stilled.

James saw it.