Delvon hit the corner of the office so hard the glass behind him shuddered.
He pressed himself into it anyway, like he could go through it if he tried hard enough, forty floors above the city and nowhere to go. His hands were shaking. The scar on his cheekbone had gone white.
Hades crossed the room without hurrying and stopped beside Ken. He looked around the office with interest— the skyline through the glass, the mahogany desk, the framed headlines on the wall about LutherCorp's record quarter.
"You've been busy," he said. "Corner office. Your name on the building directory." He tilted his head slightly. "Did Lance hand this to you personally, Delvon? Or did you take it while he was indisposed?"
Delvon's mouth opened. Nothing came out.
"And where is he?" Hades asked. Same tone. Conversational. "Lance. Where is he right now."
Still nothing. Delvon was looking at Hades the way people look at things they'd convinced themselves weren't real.
