Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 291

Eve

A man stepped into view from the hallway's shadow—tall, midnight hair swept back in sharp, deliberate strands, the same dark as Hades'. But the resemblance ended there.

Because where Hades was fire forged into control, this one was ice laced with poison.

His suit was pressed to perfection, deep navy against skin the color of polished onyx, but the collar open just enough to reveal the curling tips of tattoos—arcane, intricate—snaking up from beneath like something alive.

The inky lines on his face did nothing to distract from the striking insidious aura is face exuded.

His steps were soundless on the concrete.

But I heard them.

I felt them.

Like a warning bell beneath my skin.

"What the hell is this?" I barked, my voice low and brittle. My spine straightened despite the pulse kicking in my throat. "Why is he here?"

Cain didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

That smile—Gods, that smile—was enough.

The same one he wore at the Obsidian dinner table months ago when I was still bound and clueless. Despite his warning.

I hadn't known then.

I hadn't known anything.

But now?

Now, the air seemed to tilt when he entered. Like the room bent to accommodate him. Like it braced.

"Princess," Cain said, voice smooth as black velvet and twice as suffocating. "We finally meet. Again."

His smile didn't reach his eyes.

Rook shifted beside me, but not to intercept.

To yield.

I looked between them, stomach knotting.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Cain stopped a few paces away—too close for comfort, not close enough to strike. But the tension between us could've been strung into wire.

He looked me over with lazy precision, as if reading a dossier only he had the clearance to see.

Rhea.

Wake up.

The call in my mind was quiet at first, a desperate murmur clawing past the fog of my fear. I reached inward, deeper than before, until the echo of her stirred—soft, sleepy, confused.

Eve?

I need you. My fingers curled into fists. Please... just wake up.

A flicker. The faintest rumble of power beneath my skin. Slow. Sluggish. But there.

Good. She was waking up.

I shifted, subtly glancing around the room, noting the angle of the bolted table, the distance to the door, the lack of weapons—unless I counted the tea tray—and took a step back.

Just one.

But Cain noticed.

His eyes followed every twitch of my muscles like he was charting a map of escape routes I hadn't even fully formed yet.

"I'm not listening to this," I growled, backing further away, toward the door. _{freewёbnoνel.com}