Fallen
ruthless.
Hades stood near the furnace at the far side of the room, a long piece of iron glowing red in his gloved hand. At the tip, a crude, unmistakable shape: a sharp, unforgiving H.
Nina's breath hitched.
She had heard the hiss of the metal entering the flames. Smelled the iron heating. Heard him hum, softly, as if this were just another routine. Not a ritual.
Her arms trembled where they hung from the chains. Her body was too weak to resist. Her voice had long since broken into hoarse whispers and begging that went unanswered.
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