Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 360

Chapter 360: Explosive Revelation

Eve

A flurry of gasps, startled scribbling, and camera flashes burst through the room like static. Montegue’s hand twitched at his side, a subtle signal to the guards to remain still—no intervention unless needed.

The silence that followed wasn’t calm. It was brimming. No further explanation was needed. If they started down the road of lineage and spiritual inheritance, they’d be here all day and still not touch the heart of the matter.

"Next question," I said into the microphone.

Hands shot up like arrows. I pointed to the closest one—dark suit, press badge gleaming.

The man stood. "Do you know the whereabouts of Ellen Valmont?"

The room froze.

I didn’t.

Something sharp twisted in my stomach—her name was a blade I hadn’t learned to sheath yet. I opened my mouth, then closed it. My fingers curled around the edge of the podium as I inhaled.

"No," I said, the word scraping my throat. "I don’t know where she is."

There was a shift in the room—not distrust, but curiosity... pity, maybe.

"The thought of her," I added, voice gentler now, "brings up emotions I’m not ready to explore here. Not in this setting. I... I ask that questions be kept to matters concerning Obsidian for now."

I glanced at the rows of reporters. One of them—a young woman with a crescent tattoo by her ear—quietly crossed something off her notepad. So did a few others.

"Next question," I said, regaining my composure.

A plump woman stood next. Her voice was clear, unwavering, but not unkind.

"There are rumors surrounding the death of your maid, Jules Volkov," she began. "Some say she tried to kill you. Others claim it was suicide. The circumstances remain unclear. Can you clarify what happened that day?"

My breath hitched.

Jules.

Her red hair. The freckles across her nose. The way she used to hum under her breath when brushing my hair. I felt my throat tighten, my vision blur around the edges—but I did not cry. I would not cry for the press.

"She died," I said, "because my mental health was spiraling. Because she was... not well. And she couldn’t see what was real and what wasn’t."

There was a pause as I gripped the podium harder, grounding myself in truth.

"Jules was my friend. My sister, in every way that mattered."

The room stilled.

"I only know I pray the gods grant her the eternal rest she deserves."

Silence again—this time laced with reverence.

Then, a tall man rose. He spoke slowly, with the deliberation of someone who wanted no misunderstanding.

"Why did a Silverpine helicopter cross Obsidian airspace on February 6th, three months ago, at midnight?"

The weight of that question settled hard.

I knew it was coming.

I steadied myself before speaking, choosing each word as if it might be used in trial.

"They came to take me back."

A rustle swept the hall.

"I was told they received information about my deteriorating condition—my mental health, specifically. That it was a rescue. But I believe that was only the front."

I looked directly at the man.

"Because I had found my wolf again. Rhea had returned to me."

Another wave of murmurs.

"And Alpha Darius of Silverpine... had ordered the Hollowing. To keep me tame. To keep me wolfless. So when word reached them that I was whole again—rebonded to my Lycan—they came under the guise of care."

I held the reporter’s eyes. "But it wasn’t to save me. It was to strip me. Again."

A heavy silence stretched as the implication sank in. Obsidian knew the cruelty of Hollowing. But to hear it confirmed like this—to learn that Silverpine had orchestrated it—was something else entirely.

I looked down for a breath. Then back up.

"Next question," I said.

The next reporter didn’t wait for me to call on them. A man in a storm-grey jacket stood abruptly, his voice sharp with urgency.

"Lady Eve," he began, "can you comment on the recent series of bombings within the Tower—one involving yourself, and one involving Elliot Stravos, child of the late King Leonard?"

My heart stuttered. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

Elliot.

The name alone set my blood roaring in my ears. My throat constricted. My fingers twitched at my sides. My legs were steady, but only just.

I opened my mouth to speak—to say I couldn’t, not yet—but a warm weight settled on my hand.

Hades.

He stepped forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the podium. His hand gripped mine—firm, grounding.

"I’ll answer that," he said.

The entire room fell still. Even the flick of pens halted.

His voice was low but steady. "Elliot is not just the child of Leonard Stravos. He is my son."

The silence shattered into stunned murmurs. A few shouted, "What?"

Hades didn’t flinch.

"After the massacre that took Leonard’s life and Lucas Stravos, and my child was presumed dead. But he wasn’t." His eyes swept over the stunned press. "He was stolen. Hidden. Raised under false names, false bloodlines, and used as leverage by the very person responsible for orchestrating the tragedy."

"Who?" someone shouted.

He didn’t hesitate.

"Felicia Montegue."

Gasps. A tidal wave of them. One reporter dropped their pad entirely.

"She wasn’t a victim," Hades continued, voice darkening. "She aided Silverpine. She opened the gates. She poisoned our systems from within. And when the dust settled, she pretended that Elliot was hers."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"For weeks, I believed Eve—my Luna—was the monster that night. But the truth is far uglier."

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The rage in his voice wasn’t directed at me—but the guilt inside me pulsed anyway. For all the lies we had lived through.

Hades turned toward me briefly, his eyes searching mine.

"Felicia let the world believe Eve was to blame," he said, quieter now. "All while raising my son in secret."

The room erupted.

Questions barked over one another. Reporters rose from their chairs. Shutters snapped like gunfire.

But all I could hear was that single word echoing in my mind—

Son.

Elliot.

Was Hades’.

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