Chapter 24 Hades
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
hades
Sophie's room is the color of cotton candy now. Pink walls with white trim, exactly like she wanted.
I dip the roller back into the paint tray, working the last section near the ceiling. Sophie sits on a drop cloth in the middle of the floor, legs crossed, watching my every move like I'm performing magic.
"Is it done yet, Uncle Hades?"
"Almost, little one. Just this last bit."
"It's so pretty," she breathes. "Like a princess room."
Emma appears in the doorway, paintbrush in hand. Her room is next door, halfway through transformation into the soft blue she picked. "Can I help?"
"Sure. Grab a brush and do the edges near the window."
She settles in beside Sophie, making careful strokes along the trim. Mason and Jake are outside with Tempest, working on the tree house we're building in the backyard. Lily's helping Evangeline organize the new bookshelf we assembled last night.
This family, it's ours now. Really ours, with the custody papers signed and filed. No more social workers. No more uncertainty.
Just us.
"Uncle Hades?" Sophie's voice pulls me back. "Are you gonna marry Aunt Evangeline?"
My hand stills mid-stroke. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you love her. And she loves you. That's what people do when they love each other, right?"
Out of the mouths of babes.
"Yeah," I say softly. "That's what they do."
"So are you?"
Emma stops painting to look at me, curiosity bright in her eyes.
"Maybe," I tell them. "If she says yes."
Sophie bounces on her knees. "She'll say yes! She has to say yes!"
"We'll see."
But the seed is planted now, growing roots in my chest. Marriage. Making this family official in every way that matters.
The question is when. And how.
* * *
By afternoon, the house smells like fresh paint and grilled meat.
Ghost and Rogue showed up an hour ago with enough burgers and steaks to feed an army.
Tempest brought beer. Savage dragged the old grill from the clubhouse and set it up in the backyard.
Natalia, Willow, and Wren are also here.
Sophie adores Wren and the two play together happily.
The brothers are here. Our family.
I flip burgers while Ghost mans the steaks, the two of us falling into the easy rhythm we've perfected over years of club BBQs.
"Kids seem happy," Ghost observes.
"They are. We all are."
"Good. You deserve this, brother. After everything."
I glance at him. "We all went through it."
"Yeah, but you lost your sister. Took on five kids. Nearly lost Evangeline." He meets my eyes. "You've earned some peace."
Peace. The word sits strange in my mind. I've spent so long at war, violence and vengeance the only things I knew. But standing here, surrounded by family and laughter, I think maybe Ghost is right.
Maybe I've finally found peace.
Evangeline emerges from the house carrying a tray of buns and condiments. She's wearing cutoff shorts and one of my old t-shirts, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with makeup or fancy clothes and everything to do with just being her.
She catches me staring and smiles. "What?"
"Nothing. Just appreciating the view."
Her cheeks flush pink. Even after everything, I can still make her blush.
"Food's almost ready," I tell her. "Round up the kids?"
"On it."
She disappears back inside, and Ghost chuckles beside me. "You're a goner, man."
"Yeah. I am."
"Good. She's good for you. They all are."
The kids flood the backyard moments later, a chaos of noise and energy. Lily immediately attaches herself to my leg while Emma helps set the table. The boys are debating something about the tree house, their voices overlapping.
This. This is what I fought for. What I killed for.
And I'd do it all again without hesitation.
* * *
After dinner, after the brothers have left and the kids are crashed in front of a movie, I find Evangeline in the laundry room. She's folding laundry, movements slow and methodical.
"Hey," I say from the doorway.
She looks up, smiling. "Hey yourself. That was fun today."
"Yeah. The kids needed it. We all did."
I cross to her, taking the shirt she's folding and setting it aside. She looks at me questioningly.
"We need to talk," I say.
Her expression shifts, concern flickering across her face. "Is everything okay?"
"More than okay. But there's something I need to say."
I take her hands in mine, feeling the slight tremor in her fingers. She's nervous. Good. So am I.
"When this all started, when Marcus and Calla died, I thought I was just doing my duty. Taking care of family because that's what you do." I pause, searching for the right words. "But somewhere along the way, it became more than that. You became more than that."
"Hades—"
"Let me finish." I squeeze her hands gently. "I've been to hell and back. Done things that would make most people run screaming. But you? You looked at all of me, even the darkest parts, and stayed anyway."
Tears well in her eyes.
"You've given me something I never thought I'd have. A home. A family. A reason to be better than what I was." I brush my thumb across her knuckles. "I love you, Angel. More than I knew I could love anyone."
"I love you too," she whispers.
"Then marry me."
The words hang between us, simple and terrifying and perfect.
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"Marry me. Let's make this family real in every way that matters. You, me, those five incredible kids downstairs. Let's do this right."
"You don't have a ring," she says, but she's smiling through her tears.
"Don't need one. I just need you to say yes."
She launches herself at me, arms wrapping around my neck. I catch her easily, holding her close.
"Yes," she breathes against my neck. "Yes, yes, yes."
Relief and joy flood through me in equal measure. I pull back just enough to capture her mouth with mine, pouring everything I feel into the kiss.
She responds with equal intensity, hands fisting in my shirt. When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"I can't believe you just proposed without a ring," she says, but there's laughter in her voice.
"I can get you one. Biggest diamond you've ever seen if you want it."
"I don't need a diamond. I just need you."
"You've got me. Always have, always will."
I kiss her again, slower this time. Savoring her. She melts against me, and I run my hands along her body
"The kids," she murmurs against my lips.
"Are watching a movie that's got at least an hour left."
"We shouldn't..."
But she's already pulling my shirt over my head, so her protests ring hollow. I grin against her mouth.
"We definitely should."
The dryer hums behind us, a low, lazy rhythm that almost matches the beat of my heart.
I have her pressed against the cool metal lip of the folding counter, one hand at the small of her back, the other steadying her ribs as I guide her down to lie flat.
She’s still healing, and I won’t risk hurting her again.
But gods, the way she looks up at me right now, eyes wide, mouth parted, reaching for me like she needs me more than breath, makes every instinct in me ache.
I lean over her, bracing on my elbows so I don’t crush her, and kiss her slow. Deep. Letting her taste what I can’t stop saying.
“I love you,” I murmur into her mouth. Again, because once will never be enough. Not with her.
She exhales like the words settle into her chest, right where they belong. Then she says it, soft and steady but demanding: “Show me.”
So I do.
My hands find the hem of her shirt and I drag it up with aching care.
She lifts her arms for me, trusting, eyes never leaving mine.
Every inch of skin I reveal, I touch. Lips first, then tongue.
I trail slow kisses from her collarbone to her navel, reverent, grateful.
Her body shifts beneath me, legs spreading without thought as I work the waistband of her leggings down, inch by inch, exposing the curves I’ve worshipped a hundred times but will never take for granted.
Her scar catches the light, pale, jagged, stark against smooth skin, and I pause.
I lower my mouth to it and kiss it like an oath.
Her breath shudders out of her, her fingers threading into my hair as I press my lips to that mark.
The reminder of what she survived. Of why I’m lucky she’s still here.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, voice rough. “Every scar. Every breath.”
She pulls me up, eyes glassy, and I slot my hips between her thighs, sliding one arm behind her back so I can keep pressure off her ribs. She’s soaked already, warm and soft and open for me, and when I ease inside her, slow and steady and deep, we both fall still.
God.
This is home.
She clutches my back, holds me in place like she needs a second to feel it too, that perfect click, the way our bodies just fit. Her breath catches, legs tightening around my waist.
“Move,” she whispers. “Please, Hades.”
My name in her mouth does something to me.
I start to move, rolling my hips slow and deep, grinding into her like we have all the time in the world.
Her head tips back, mouth falling open in a gasp.
I watch the way her brows knit, the little tremble in her thighs, how her fingers slide up my arms to dig into my shoulders.
“Fuuuck. Just like that,” she moans, body arching.
This isn’t fucking. This is coming home.
She’s everywhere, around me, under me, her heat pulling me in and keeping me there. I drop kisses along her jaw, her throat, the curve of her breast. Her hands roam my back, nails scraping, urging me deeper. I thrust slow, then hard, then slow again, trying to give her everything she’s asking for.
“More,” she gasps. “I need more.”
So I give it to her. Every inch. Every thrust a promise, every kiss a vow. I feel her tightening around me, hips rocking up to meet mine, eyes fluttering as she climbs higher.
“You’re mine,” I breathe against her mouth. “Always.”