7th Circle (Hades, #1)

by Tate James

To my first boyfriend, Nick. Thanks for letting me borrow some of our history in this story. You were a deadbeat, but goddamn your dick was huge.

I needed this... and if word got back to Cass, then so much the better for it. It was about damn time I moved on from my stupid crush.

"You coming, Hades?" the bastard called out to me, smug as fuck. "Or have you already conducted all the auditioning you need?"

I was a successful, twenty-three-year-old businesswoman and the head of a crime syndicate. I was a cold-blooded killer and a merciless bitch to anyone who crossed me. To everyone who'd met me or heard of me in the years since my family's near massacre, I was all of those things rolled into one intimidating, fear-inducing name. Hades. The leader of the Tri-State Timberwolves.

"I never picked you for a sub, Hades. You legitimately ooze big dick energy worse than any gangster I've met. I can't imagine you giving up control in any situation."

Typical Zed, he never missed an opportunity to play white knight. Some things never changed, and I would never want them to.

Hayden Darling Timber was my birth name, and for all my legal businesses I was Daria Wolff, CEO of Copper Wolf Enterprises.

Her newest best friend had briefly used it, but only because my asshole sister had introduced me as Dare, rather than Hades. No one had filled the poor girl in until she’d known me a good four months, too.

“Dare!” Seph called out, making me grit my teeth in frustration. “I’m heading out to meet MK for brunch. Don’t forget my car, yeah?”

Copper Wolf owned and ran all the legitimate businesses—like my vodka brand and the bars and the strippers within them—while the Timberwolves ran everything else, taking a cut of all drug sales within Copper Wolf venues and running what were easily the most high-class and exclusive escort services in the country—among other, less glamorous aspects of gang life. I liked to keep my fingers in every pie possible, with the exception of those I'd traded to Archer D'Ath for his help five years ago.

“Nothing, it’s… nothing.” His gaze dodged away, like he was embarrassed about something.

Guilt rippled through me at the truth in his words. I was acting reckless. Stupid. Distracted. It wasn't good enough. I needed to be better than that, above it all. Fucking hell. I needed to kill Lucas.

Angel dust had been wiped out of my territory for five years, now it was resurfacing in the most suspicious circumstances? Not a coincidence. No freaking way. But the most likely culprit, the one who might want to send a message to me... he was dead. I'd shot him myself. So who the fuck was playing the part of his ghost?

There was a note of bitterness to my voice that I knew Zed heard too. But so what? I was bitter. I’d finally met a gorgeous guy who seemed totally into me—not Hades—and it was starting to look like a set up.

Either Joseph was a cop or he was a spy. Or both. Either way, Skate had brought a snake into my lair. "Joseph," I repeated.

Skate glared at me, his nostrils flaring with anger and indecision flickering in his eyes. It was a tiny movement, barely even noticeable for how quick it was, but I spotted the second his eyes flicked to the side. Like he was fighting the urge to look at Joseph for permission. Motherfucker. I knew it.

"Absorb them into the Reapers or kill them. Your choice. But as far as I'm concerned, Shadow Grove belongs to the Reapers now." I gave a small smirk. "With the exception of my venues, of course."

"That's what you think?" He sounded genuinely confused as he closed a little more distance between us with those long strides of his. "I've taken a hell of a lot more than a second glance over the years, Red," he told me in a low voice that went straight to my pussy like a lightning bolt.

His chest rose under my touch, his breath gusting out as I ran my fingertips over the geometric design over his heart. It'd been years since I'd seen it up this close and even longer since the day Zed had drawn it as a doodle in the

margin of my economics workbook while he helped tutor me through exams.

It seemed like an intricate and possibly random design, but I'd watched him create it. It was my middle name. Darling.

Chase had seen him draw it too. Chase goddamn Lockhart, my first love and Zed’s best friend. It'd been his idea to make it into a tattoo, and Zed had only gotten it done because Chase Dared him to do it. It was a stupid fucking game. Dare.

"Hey, thank you so much; you—" His polite thanks cut off abruptly as our eyes met in the rearview mirror. My lips parted in shock, and he froze. Just froze.

"Lucas, this is my sister. She's not a very good ‘people’ person, though, so, like, just ignore her if she says anything rude or mean or generally threatening, okay? She'll just be joking. Right, Dare?"

"When I sent myself a text from his phone, I saw the most recent message thread in his inbox."

She just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I didn't open it. Jesus, Dare, what do you take me for? But she's clearly his girlfriend. Her contact was saved as just H and a love-heart emoji."

Fuck me. Lucas Wilder—totally not his real name—had balls of steel. Any other guy would have already skipped town, changed his name seventeen times, and possibly looked into plastic surgery by now. Not Lucas, though. Nope, he still wanted a chance to explain.

There on my main stage, working the pole like he’d been born to dance, was a very sweaty, very sexy, very possibly underage Lucas Wilder. Fuck. It was his first night, and I'd forgotten to fire him.

Ugh. I was clearly getting bitten by karma for all the people I'd killed.

"But I had no idea who you were when I said I was twenty-one, and I really needed this job. I know your clubs don't usually hire anyone under the legal drinking age, so I had my ID tweaked..."

And yet I didn't immediately push him away. Why? Because holy god, he kissed like the devil, all sinful and intoxicating. Lucas whatever-his-name-was hit my bloodstream like pure cocaine and lit me up like a fucking Christmas tree.

Mentally, I wrote a quick eulogy for my panties because they'd officially drowned.

Whoops, did I subconsciously just want to see Lucas dance again? Possible. Very damn possible.

"If you hadn't already shot Chase in the head, I'd want to kill that bastard myself,"

Cass knew of Chase—he'd probably even met him at some stage—but he didn't know everything that’d gone down between us in the lead-up to the Timberwolf massacre. Reapers had not been my friends back then, with the exceptions of Archer, Kody, and Steele.

"I'm sending over the file on this Lucas kid now," she told me. "Most things seem to check out. The only fabrications were his date of birth and surname; otherwise, he's squeaky clean."

"Surely not. He must have some hidden gang affiliation or something. There's no way he's just... normal."

"Don't question my researchers; you know they're the best. When I say he's squeaky clean, I mean it. No gang affiliations at all, not even two generations back. His dad was a Marine and died when Lucas was two. His mom used to be a ballet teacher but was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis around six years ago. Lucas was just twelve and on his way to National’s for men's gymnastics but gave it up to look after his mom. Now that he’s back in the school system, he’s a year behind from all the time he lost trying to homeschool himself. I promise you, he's just a hard-working kid doing his best to care for his single mom."

"The only thing that actually makes sense to me," he murmured, "is that Chase made it out alive. But even that makes no sense. We both saw him die. You fired the damn gun yourself."

My stomach flipped, and I swallowed heavily, reliving the moment I'd looked my fiancé in the eye then fired his Desert Eagle at his head. Yeah. My favorite gun used to belong to Chase. I'd grabbed it in the bloody fight where we'd beaten each other half to death, and it’d seemed like such poetic justice to kill him with his own weapon.

"It means Darling," I told him after a painfully long silence between us. "It's my middle name. Zed designed it a long time ago."

She had no idea how close she’d been to being sold as a thirteen-year-old sex slave to a Saudi billionaire.

That was one of the major things that kept drawing me back to Lucas. He didn't let me push him around. He didn't let me push him away. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn't afraid to go balls to the wall in pursuing it.

"This isn't a game, Lucas. You can't even begin to imagine how dangerous it is being close to me. People would hurt you, use you, betray you... just to get to me. You don't need that shit in your life."

"I'm willing to take that risk,"

"I'm not asking for forever, Hayden. Just a chance. You carry so much weight on your shoulders... Let me be an outlet for all that stress, beautiful. I could be your lighthouse if you let me."

"Maybe you should spend more time with her," Seph shot back. "She's living the reverse harem dream, Dare. You could learn a few things."

"I promise I won't get jealous next time Zed marks his territory by putting an arm around you. I'm not asking to be your one and only, Hayden; I just want you... in whatever way you're willing to give."

Darling, I miss you more with every passing day. Five years has gone in the blink of an eye, but we'll meet again soon. I promise. I'll chase you.

He gave a small nod, the lines of his face still tight and his fingers clenched in a fist. "I love you, Dare. More than anyone. Ever."