“I just have one more question,” she said, and his heart fell. “When you left Sunday night, where did you go?” “Persephone—” This time, when she stepped back, he released her. “That’s when she returned, wasn’t it?” As angry as she appeared, she could not hide the hurt that flashed in her bright eyes. It made Hades sick, made him want to heal her somehow, but how did one heal this kind of pain? Especially when it was of his own making. “You chose her over me.” He stepped toward her. “It isn’t like that at all, Persephone—” “Don’t touch me!” He hated those words—hated that he was the reason they
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