Chapter 4 The punishment

"The punishments." He swept his hand to the side as though that demonstrated his point. "The endless opportunities to see where you went wrong in life and feel some genuine remorse."

"Who are you?" I leaned back.

"What did I tell you about trying my patience, Miss Aibek?" he said in a voice of steel.

I let my mind flicker back to his question. "The punishments are torturous, and I don't like reliving the events that led to my execution."

His lips thinned. "That's hardly the point."

My mind went blank. Wasn't watching Griff's calculated betrayal the main part of the punishment?

He huffed a breath. "You realize there's a way out of the Pits?"

"Are you serious?"

"When a soul feels genuine remorse for their wicked deeds, the Pits release them into the Asphodel Meadows."

My breath stilled, and I stared into his blue eyes. Nothing in his handsome features said he was trying to fool me, but it wasn't like I was the best judge of character considering I'd fallen for Griff.

He leaned forward, his brows raised as though waiting for me to respond.

I licked my dry lips. "How can I feel remorse for a grifter who seduced me, broke my heart, and stole my pack? We were supposed to be mates."

"Would you believe that I understand your pain?" he said, his voice soft. "Love is an emotion exceedingly more dangerous than hate or fear or fury. When scorned, it can inspire people to commit atrocities."

"Then why am I being punished?"

The man straightened, his features tightening. "Unfortunately, I don't make the rules."

His words triggered something I'd learned in the academy. About two thousand years ago, all the old gods fell in a supernatural disaster that resulted in one god taking all the power. Nobody had ever seen him or knew his name, but he sent messages to the world through his angels.

They'd probably employed Hades to take care of the Fifth Faction because he had plenty of experience in the Underworld. And there was likely an interesting story about how he'd transformed from the middle-aged scowling man in the portrait to a creature as handsome as Tony Manero in Saturday Night Fever. As much as I wanted to stroll down that lane of memories, this wasn't the time.

"You really are Hades?" I whispered.

"I am," he said with a tight smile that indicated his patience was about to snap.

Although I was hot-headed, reckless, and prone to stupid outbursts, I was no fool. This man-this god-had the power to do something about my current living situation, and I wasn't about to act the fool and let him hand me back to Mr. Chipolata and his pointy pitchfork.

Bowing my head, I said, "What can I do for you, Your Majesty?"

"I'd like you to see something," he said.

I raised my gaze to find him pointing toward the fireplace. Twisting around, I found an image floating above

the painting of Hades and the three-headed dog.

It was Griff, only he looked different. Gone was the luxuriant hair, replaced with a short style that made him look like a human o ce worker. He wore a black suit with a white shirt with only one button loose and a strip of red silk in the top pocket.

He had the same angular brow with startling amber eyes as before, the same high cheekbones, a perfectly straight nose, and gorgeous lips. He had a trim beard that was thicker than a five o'clock shadow that accentuated his masculine charm.

All the air left my lungs, leaving me reeling forward.

Was this some new brand of torture? It had to be because to his left and right were identical twin women, each with broad smiles, chestnut hair, and white dresses that looked more like bandages.

And they looked happy.

I stopped breathing. My body went perfectly still. And the only sound filling my ears was the roar of my blood.

From the way they pressed their petite bodies against my mate, it looked like he was sleeping with them both. Or the dirty, rotten wolf was building up to it. Where was he? My gaze darted left, right, up, down, taking in the surroundings.

The background was the kind of bars I imagined could be in Heaven. Pristine. Minimalist. White. Perspex shelves that displayed an array of liquor bottles spaced out like they wore works of art. Long, dangling lights shaped like tiny globes. It was modern-well beyond the likes of Kirk, Spock, and Uhura.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the vision, but it remained there in glorious technicolor. My lungs started working again as realization trickled through my skull. Demons were sadistic bastards, but they wouldn't go so far as to fabricate something so elaborate. Not for a woman who died at the age of twenty-one and barely made it as an alpha. This had to be real.

"What are you showing me?" I hissed. "Why is he alive and still young when I was executed for his murder?"

"Your mate escaped Hell."

My nostrils flared. In the years I'd been stuck in my shit hole of a cell, people had tried to break out. Some old bastard had convinced a bunch of gullible souls to stitch themselves together to create a being of immense power. I think it was called a soul king or something similar.

It hadn't worked.

The combined spirits had torn apart a bunch of pit demons, and I had seen my tormentors ripped to shreds and tossed into the lake of lava. But lightning had filled the air and dismantled the soul king, ending that particular escapade.

"How did he get out?" I snarled.

"If I knew the answer to that question, you would still be in your cell," Hades said, his voice bitter.

For the next few heartbeats, I watched Griff take the twins to a booth, where a bottle of champagne awaited. After settling into their fancy seats, they embarked on a session of public petting.

Angry sparks flew off my skin, filling my vision with white. I had to stop this. Griff didn't get to leave his eternal punishment while I still suffered. But beneath the fury was a despair as deep as the ocean. Seeing him with those women reminded me of everything that I lacked. Beauty. Charm. A personality someone could love.