Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Hades
“Dad, what the fuck did you do?”
Oceanus moaned from the floor. A wet, gurgling sound that said the bullet had punched through something vital, something leaking blood into places it shouldn’t be.
My father lifted the gun to take aim again, ready to finish the job, ready to paint the floor with the old bastard’s brains.
I shoved him hard against the wall and pinned him there, my forearm across his chest, staring into his eyes.
Cold, calculating eyes that had taught me everything I knew about violence and control.
“What the fuck are you doing, Dad?”
“Either let me kill him, or do it yourself,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. Like he was discussing the weather, not murder in the middle of church.
Asclepius knelt beside Oceanus, hands slick with blood as he tried to stem the bleeding. The others sat around the table, frozen and uncertain, waiting for someone to make a move. The air stank of gunpowder and copper and fear, thick enough to choke on.
“Someone want to fucking do something?” I shouted, my voice cracking through the silence like a whip.
I turned to Zeus. “I want to know what he said that triggered Jupiter,” my president said, his eyes locking on my father. Weighing every possibility, every angle, trying to piece together what the fuck had just happened.
“What?” I looked back at my father. His eyes were narrowed at Zeus. No remorse, no explanation, just that dead-eyed stare that made my stomach twist. I took my father’s gun and tucked it into the waistband at the back of my jeans, the metal still warm against my skin.
“He was spouting off and something he said triggered this shit. What was it?” Zeus asked, his voice hard, demanding answers my father clearly wasn’t going to give.
My father crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to answer. The room went deathly quiet as Zeus and my father stared each other down. Two alphas locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to break, neither willing to bend. A standoff likely to end in more bloodshed if someone didn’t step in.
The tension was suffocating. My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow. This was my father, the man who’d raised me, taught me, shaped me into the man I was. And he’d just shot a brother in cold blood without hesitation, without explanation.
What the fuck had Oceanus said?
“Poseidon, Ares, take Jupiter downstairs. Asclepius, as soon as Oceanus is stable, I want him downstairs too.”
“Zeus, what the fuck?!” I asked as Ares stepped toward my father. I moved in front of him, blocking Ares with my body, my hand instinctively going to my piece. “Don’t fucking touch him.”
“I’m not gonna hurt him, Hades,” Ares said, his voice calm, almost amused. “He did me a fucking favor.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Ares, whose father had beaten the shit out of him for years, who’d finally fought back and put the old man in the hospital, was grateful my father had shot Oceanus.
What the fuck did that mean?
“Hades, let them do what they’re told,” my father said. He moved around me and walked out the door, followed by our two enforcers. Like he was heading to the bar for a beer instead of a cell.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I shouted at Zeus, my hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood.
“Everyone out,” Zeus said, his voice cold and final. The voice of a president who’d made his decision and wouldn’t be swayed.
I stood my ground as Adonis and Hyperion helped move Oceanus out so Asclepius could work on him. The old bastard was still gurgling, still bleeding, still clinging to whatever miserable existence he had left.
Atlas closed the door and leaned against it, watching Zeus and me quietly. Always watching, always three steps ahead.
“I know he’s your father, and I love him too, but I need answers, Brock.”
Zeus fell back into his chair. He rubbed his hands over his face, then leaned his elbows on the table, the weight of leadership crushing him, grinding him down.
He only ever called me by my name when he was at his end.
When the weight of the club, the secrets, the lies, and the blood became too much to carry alone.
When he needed his best friend, not his VP.
“We all know Oceanus is an asshole,” I said, trying to find some logic in the chaos, some reason that made sense.
“We do. And Ares won’t hold it against your father for shooting him. Unless he survives.” Zeus gave me a smug grin, dark and twisted, like the idea of Oceanus dying was a fucking bonus. “Then we might have a problem.”
“And my father?”
Zeus leaned back in his chair, his eyes hard and calculating. “He has answers I need. Answers I don’t even think he realizes he has.”
“Then why not just fucking ask him?” My voice rose, frustration and fear mixing into something volatile, something dangerous.
“He shot a brother, Hades.”
I shook my head. He was back in club mode. The ever-fucking powerful president, the man who had to make the hard calls, who had to enforce the rules even when it destroyed the people he loved.
“We have rules, and you fucking know it.”
“Fuck you, Zeus.” The words came out harsh and bitter, laced with venom I didn’t know I had. “Don’t take your anger at your old man out on mine. You don’t give a shit that he shot Oceanus because, just like everyone else in this room, you suspect he was in league with Kronos.”
“Which is why I need fucking answers!” he ground out, his voice raw and desperate. The sound of a man drowning in secrets and lies.
Atlas quickly stepped out of the way as I slammed through the church doors and made my way downstairs, my boots pounding against the floor. Each step echoed my rage, my fear, my fucking helplessness.
“Hades, what the fuck is going on? Why is Dad downstairs?” Iapetus, my little brother Malcolm, walked beside me as I trudged down the stairs, his voice tight with worry.
“He shot Oceanus,” I said, my voice void of emotion. Flat. Dead. Because if I let myself feel anything right now, I’d fucking explode.
“What? Why?” He grabbed my arm, halting me in place, his fingers digging into my bicep. “What happened?”
“I don’t fucking know, Malcolm.” I ran my hands through my hair, then punched a hole in the wall.
The drywall crumbled under my knuckles, pain shooting up my arm, blood welling from split skin.
The physical pain was a relief. A distraction from the chaos in my head.
“Everything went to shit in church. I’ll tell you what I can once I know more. ”
I opened the basement door and walked through like my life wasn’t in fucking shambles. Like my father wasn’t locked in a cell. Like everything I’d believed about him wasn’t crumbling to dust.
When I reached his cell, Ares was leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone like this was just another fucking Tuesday.
“Open the door.”
“Can’t.”
“Ares, open the fucking door,” I ordered, my voice hard and commanding. The voice of a VP who expected to be obeyed.
He didn’t look up. Just kept playing on his phone, ignoring my order. Dismissing me like I was nothing, like my rank meant shit. I turned toward him, ready to make him fucking listen, when my father called out, “Brock, enough.”
“I am the fucking VP.”
“And your president gave him an order.” My father’s voice was calm, matter-of-fact.
I released a breath and looked at my dad, really looked at him. He sat on the cot in the corner, relaxed, almost peaceful. Like being locked in a cell was exactly where he wanted to be. “Why are you so fucking calm about this?”
The corner of his mouth hitched. “I wrote the rules, kid. I knew exactly what I was risking.”
The words hit me like a sledgehammer. He’d known. He’d shot Oceanus knowing it would land him here, knowing Zeus would have no choice but to lock him up. Which meant whatever Oceanus had said, whatever truth he’d been about to reveal, was worth this.
Worth everything.
“Why did you do it?” I asked, my hands clamping around the bars, forehead pressed against the cold metal. It bit into my skin, grounding me, keeping me from losing my shit completely.
He ignored my question and sat back on the cot. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, shutting me out, shutting everyone out.
“Dad.”
Nothing. Just silence. Just the sound of my own breathing, harsh and ragged in the quiet.
“He won’t answer you,” Ares said, his head still bent as he stared at his phone. “He told me no matter what I did, he wouldn’t talk.”
“You aren’t torturing my father.” The words came out as a growl. Low and dangerous, a promise and a threat wrapped together.
Ares finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine.
Dark and empty and utterly without mercy.
“I don’t want to. Let’s hope my father talks first.” He pushed off the wall and walked upstairs, leaving me alone with the man who’d stayed when my mother hadn’t.
The man who now refused to explain why he’d just destroyed everything.
I studied my father. His jaw was set in that stubborn, immovable expression I’d seen a thousand times. He wouldn’t talk until he was ready. Maybe not even then. My phone pinged a text from Zeus telling the officers to get their asses back to church.
With one last look at the stubborn old man, the man I’d worshipped my entire life, the man I’d kill for without hesitation, I tucked my phone back into my pocket and walked upstairs.
Church was quiet when I walked in. I didn’t take my seat.
Instead, I leaned against the wall, daring anyone to say a fucking word.
Daring them to question me, to push me. To give me a reason to unleash the violence churning in my gut.
Zeus shook his head and sat down, recognizing the danger in my posture.
“I just got a call from the sheriff.”
I closed my eyes, wondering what else could go so fucking wrong. What other nightmare was about to crawl out of the shadows and sink its teeth into us.
“Harlen Troy is dead.”