Eve
Hades was still on his knees. But his breath hitched—just barely. Just enough.
I didn't stop.
Couldn't.
"She was pregnant," I whispered. "When I came at her—when the beast inside me didn't even pause to look, to think, to see."
Elliot stirred against my chest, small and warm and trusting. And it made it worse.
So much worse.
"I remember it now," I choked. "She screamed. She tried to shield her stomach. That was the last thing she did. And I—"
I clamped my eyes shut. But the tears still fell.
"I killed her. I made him motherless."
My shoulders shook, but I didn't stop. My voice was fraying now, unraveling like old thread.
"He looks just like her when he sleeps." I ran a hand through Elliot's curls, the pain blooming fresh and raw. "Same nose. Same lashes. Same silence. I recall every detail of Danielle, I can imagine her laughter. And every time I look at him, Hades…"
I lifted my eyes again.
"…I see what I took from you."