Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 219

Eve

Felicia's whisper barely carried across the room, but I heard it.

"You..."

She took another step back, her hands trembling, her expression torn between horror and something else.

Recognition.

I frowned, my breathing still uneven, my pulse still slowly settling.

Why did she look at me like that?

I tightened my grip on Elliot, shifting him fully against me, letting his small weight press into my shoulder. His warmth soothed me, reminding me of where I was, of what mattered.

But Felicia's expression didn't change.

If anything, it worsened.

"This can't be," she whispered, more to herself than to me.

A sliver of unease slithered through my ribs.

I looked at Hades. "What is she talking about?"

Hades didn't look at me.

His gaze was locked on Felicia, his posture coiled, his shadows twisting subtly at his feet again. He was letting me see them.

"Don't take her seriously," he murmured, his voice smooth, controlled, as if he were trying to pull me away from this moment, from whatever Felicia had just stumbled into.

I might have let him.

If Felicia's gaze hadn't been filled with something more than fear.

It was realization.

"You were..."

She stopped, as if saying it out loud would make it real.

Her hand flew to her mouth, slamming over her lips as a strangled sound left her throat.

My skin prickled.

Hades pulled away from me, his warmth leaving my side in an instant, his entire presence shifting.

His energy was scorching.

I could feel the heat of his fury in waves, slow and deliberate, more dangerous than if he had exploded outright.

His shadows darkened, stretching subtly along the floor.

And then, slowly, dangerously, he took a step forward.

Felicia flinched.

"What," he said, his voice low, even, dangerous, "did you just say?"

Felicia shook her head, her fingers still pressed over her lips.

But she wasn't denying it.

She wasn't taking it back.

She looked at me again—no longer with amusement, no longer with smugness, but with something so bone-deep and eerie that it made my chest tighten.

"You are..."

The moment the words left her mouth, something in Felicia snapped.

Her fear, her hesitation—all of it vanished.

Instead, rage took its place.

"You are touching my son!" she spat.

And then she lunged.

It happened too fast.

One second, she was frozen in fear.

The next, she was charging at me, eyes wide, hands outstretched, a feral snarl ripping through her throat.

I barely had time to react before her fingers latched onto Elliot.

She clawed at him, trying to rip him from my arms—but I held on.

Her nails scraped against his delicate skin, leaving thin, jagged red lines trailing down his arm.

Elliot let out a pained, sleepy little moan, shifting against me in confusion, the scent of his blood hitting my nose like a thunderclap.

Something inside me snapped.

My vision blurred, the edges burning, my instincts roaring to life before I could even think.

A growl ripped from my throat—low, lethal, inhuman.

And then—I moved.

My claws tore through the air, through flesh.

So fast—so sharp—Felicia didn't even have time to dodge.

She let out a choked sound, stumbling back as a spray of blood painted the floor.

I barely registered it.

Not until I looked down at my own hands.

Blood.

Dark. Wet. Fresh.

The scent was thick, curling in the air like smoke, like something deep and ancient and wrong.

Felicia crashed to the floor, her hand flying to her chest where my claws had slashed deep, her breathing ragged, uneven.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't breathe.

A hand was suddenly on my wrist.

Strong, firm—Hades.

"Red," he murmured, his voice low, steady, an anchor against the chaos.

I couldn't look at him.