Page 38 of The Don's Eternal Vows

I meet her gaze unflinchingly. "For Genoveva," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "I'd give my life instead.”

Persephone's eyes widen, a mixture of admiration and concern flashing across her beautiful face. She turns, leading me towards a set of imposing doors, their surface etched with scenes of life and death.

"Then let us hope it doesn't come to that," she murmurs, placing her hand on the ornate handle.

My heart thunders in my chest, each beat a war drum. I take a deep breath, tasting ash and pomegranate on my tongue. The scars on my hands itch, a reminder of every fight I've won, every enemy I've conquered. But this... this is different.

Chapter 18

Gianni

Persephone's powerful presence does little to quell my nerves as we cross the threshold into the hall of Hades. Immediately, the first thing that hits me is the darkness all around. The thick blanket of shadow steals my breath. I blink rapidly, willing my eyes to adjust. Slowly, shapes emerge from the gloom.

The vast expanse of the hallway seems to stretch into eternity. The scent of burning torches, acrid and ancient, fills my nostrils. Walls of polished black marble stretch upward surfaces gleaming like oil under the flickering light of torches. The flames dance, writhe and twist with a life of their own.

Persephone's silhouette glides ahead. Her grace makes her a silent presence, whereas for me, each step echoes like a gunshot.

"Keep up, mortal," she calls back, her voice amused yet impatient.

I nod, my throat too dry for words. As we move deeper into the hall, my eyes are drawn to the walls. Figures materialize from the darkness, and I realize they're not part of the stone.

Guardians.

Lining the walls, silent sentinels stand guard, their ancient armor gleaming dully in the flickering torchlight. These aren't mere statues; they're souls trapped in eternal service. Their eyes, hollow yet piercing, follow my every move with an intensity that sends a chill down my spine.

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to look away. "Quite the welcoming committee," I mutter under my breath.

Persephone doesn't respond, her focus entirely on getting us to the end of this hallway.

With each step, the throne at the far end of the hall looms larger until it towers over me. The God of death pays us no heed, lost in his head. Persephone turns, her eyes meeting mine. "Are you ready?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I give a curt nod. "As I'll ever be."

I look up at the golden gilded throne, with such jagged ends it could cut a mortal in two. Seated upon it is a figure that radiates power and menace in equal measure: Hades, Lord of the Underworld.

His attire is a study in contrasts – a flowing robe of deepest black, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that seems to shift and change as he moves. His hair, a mane of midnight shadows, falls past his shoulders in wild abandon. In his right hand, he grips a fearsome bident, its twin prongs gleaming with an otherworldly light.

At Hades' feet, two monstrous hellhounds lie in repose, gnawing on a human skull. Their eyes, glowing like hot coals, fix upon me with predatory interest. A low growl rumbles from their throats, setting my nerves on edge.

I swallow hard, fighting to maintain my composure. This is what I came for. To face the god of death himself? Yet, standing before him, I feel my resolve wavering.

"My love," Persephone calls out, her voice ringing clear in the oppressive silence. "I've brought a visitor."

Hades' gaze shifts to his wife, and for a moment, his stern features soften. My heart pounds, but I force myself to remain calm.I can handle this. For Genoveva, I have to.

Persephone steps aside, her emerald eyes flickering with amusement. As she moves, my gaze locks fully on Hades. The god's face contorts with fury, his eyes blazing like infernal coals. Hades. The name alone carries weight, but seeing him in person is like staring into the abyss itself.

"Wife!" he bellows, his voice shaking the very foundations of the hall. "How dare you bring a mortal into our sanctum?"

I flinch at the sheer power in his voice, but Persephone remains unphased. She merely raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

"My dear," she says coolly, "I thought you might enjoy some... entertainment."

Hades' nostrils flare, but I see a hint of begrudging respect in his eyes as he regards his wife. Their dynamic reminds me of Genoveva and me – her fire to my ice.

My heart clenches. Genoveva. I have to focus, not to forget why I’m here. But Hade's power disorients me and makes me feel smaller than an ant. I can feel the weight of countless undead eyes upon me, waiting to see how this will unfold. My throat tightens, but I force myself to breathe steadily. Under his might, my greatest desire reduces to a mere mortal whim, and I can’t let that happen.

Without hesitation, I drop to my knees. The cold marble bites into my flesh, but I ignore it. I've endured worse pain for less worthy causes. I bow my head, not in submission, but in respect. When I speak, my voice is low and steady.

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