Hades' Cursed Luna

Chapter 118 Cursed

Eve

"It was Eve!" I screamed, tearing myself away from him. "She did this to me!" Bile burned the back of my throat, tears prickling my eyes as I prepared for the horrible things I was going to say... against myself.

I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting the chill of self-hatred. "She cursed me—she cursed us all!"

Hades stilled, his gaze sharpening with predatory interest as I broke. "What did you say?" he demanded, his voice low, dangerous.

I sucked in a shuddering breath, tears prickling my eyes as I forced myself to continue, every word slashing deeper into my own heart. "She cursed me right before she died—right before they executed her. She screamed it for all to hear. They thought she was mad, but she wasn't. She was vindictive." I lifted my gaze to his, my expression trembling and hollow. "And the curse took root. Everything went to hell after that."

Hades' stare bore into me,

"I…" My voice faltered, breaking in a way I couldn't control.

Hades stilled, his dark gaze sharpening as he studied me, sensing the shift even if he couldn't name it. "What's wrong, Red? Don't tell me you pity her." His tone was mocking, light with amusement, but there was an edge beneath it, a warning not to tread too close.

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to breathe through the storm raging inside me. Pity her? If only he knew. If only he understood that the girl he damned so easily was standing right in front of him, wearing the face of someone else. That I was both the villain and the victim of this story, and every lie I spun was a noose tightening around my neck.

"I don't pity her," I said hoarsely, my voice trembling. "I hate her. I hate everything she did to me."

The words tasted like ash, bitter and sharp on my tongue, because they were meant for me. I hate you, Eve.

Hades' gaze hardened slightly. He tilted his head slightly, the amusement fading, replaced by something more calculating. "Hate is good," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "Hate will keep you alive. But don't let it consume you, Red. She's gone. Dead. And whatever curse you think she left behind—" He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, his hand reaching up to brush my cheek again. "—you are stronger than her ghost."

His touch burned through me, a cruel juxtaposition of tenderness and finality. Stronger than her ghost? I was the ghost. I was the curse. And now here he was, soothing the wounds I'd torn open, not knowing that the blade was still inside me.