Chapter 2

2

3Hours Later

Oh gods, how had it all gone so wrong, so fast? Persephone lifted a hand to her head as the lights of the club swirled and danced in a crazy pattern. She shook her head and staggered, sluggish and bleary in the rowdy pit.

Helena. She needed to find Helena. Or Europa.

She was supposed to ask them if she could sleep on their couch tonight.

Because she couldn’t go home.

Ha. Home. What a crock.

It had never been her home. And now she couldn’t go back there.

Not after Paul had waited up for her and accosted her at the bottom of the stairs when she tried to leave to meet her friends.

The house had been dark, Timmy asleep and Diana still out at her dinner.

Paul had been drunk, that much was clear. He’d leaned against the wall of the foyer, blocking the front door so she couldn’t leave.

“You’re so beautiful, Persephone. I think it’s time to stop with all the pretending.”

Persephone had tried to edge around him and get to the door.

“I need to go, Mr. Donahue. My friends are expecting me.”

“Paul,” he said, slamming his hand to the wall behind her head, boxing her in. “How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Paul.”

His breath had been sour from the scotch. He’d reached up a hand to touch her face and she’d shoved it away.

“Stop it!” she’d hissed incredulously. “What are you doing? You have a wife! And a beautiful little boy.”

But he crowded her in with his body. “I can’t stop. I love you, Persephone. You drive me crazy. Seeing this tight little body.” He put a hand on her waist and squeezed. “Hearing the shower earlier and knowing you were up there, naked.”

She tried to twist away from him but he grabbed her with both hands and shoved her against the wall.

He kissed her.

Or, well, she should say, he smashed his mouth against hers and tried to shove his fat tongue between her lips.

She’d kneed him in the balls and shoved him backwards. “I quit!” She’d fled with only her phone, the small bit of cash she had shoved in her bra, and the clothes on her back.

And she’d come here.

Only to find her so-called friends could barely give her the time of day. They were too busy flirting with guys at the bar. She tried to tell them what had happened. Helena made a few sympathetic noises, then said Persephone should get drunk and forget all about it.

Persephone had stared at Helena. What did she expect? She barely knew these girls. So they’d talked a few times at the park while their charges played on the playground. She’d built it up to be more in her head because well, she’d never had friends. It had felt monumental to have girls she talked to and hung out with regularly. But to these girls, she was no one. Barely a blip in their busy lives full of friends and lovers.

So, doubting herself, she’d wimped out of asking to crash at one of their places. She told herself she’d do it at the end of the night. Besides, maybe Helena was right. Maybe loosening up and having a good time tonight was the answer. Maybe everything wasn’t as dire as it all felt.

So she’d let a guy buy her a drink just like they did in the books and on TV—she’d been doing a lot of catching up in the last six weeks—and tried dancing.

But he must have gotten her order wrong. She’d asked for cranberry juice but there must have been alcohol in it because she felt weird. Really weird.

She stumbled forward and only barely caught herself from head-butting a chick who was dancing seductively up and down on a guy like she was a stripper and he was the pole.

Persephone fumbled in the side of her bra for her phone. Why couldn’t she feel her fingers? Her hand was a clumsy stump.

Okay, this was starting to really freak her out. She was never drinking alcohol again.

She frowned as she finally got hold of her phone and pulled it out. Everything kept going in and out of focus. And the lights. Too bright. She winced and stumbled her way through the crowd.

She’d text Helena. Maybe they weren’t best friends, but she was one of the only people Persephone knew in the city.

And Persephone needed to lie down. This day had officially been too long. It needed to be over. Now.

It took her three tries to swipe the right sequence of dots to unlock the phone. She squinted blearily at the little screen. It kept moving and dancing. It was hard to figure out which screen was the real one. She stabbed at it with her weird stubby hand but couldn’t seem to do anything right.

She felt frantic and sleepy at the same time. She needed help.

She finally got to the text app, somehow. Thank the gods, thank the gods.

Tears of relief flooded her eyes.

But when she started to type a message, she fumbled the phone and dropped it.

“Shit!”

The club floor was a dark abyss. Would she even be able to find it?—

“Hey, I remember you. Did you drop your phone? I saw you from over there.” A man dipped down in front of her and came up with her phone. She could have hugged him.

She tried to say, “Thank you,” but her tongue was thick and it came out more like tank ya.

She squinted up at him as the strobe lights flashed their way and she winced. Still, she could see it was the nice guy from earlier and she relaxed. He hadn’t laughed or looked at her funny when he asked to buy her a drink and she said she was only drinking cranberry juice.

“I think I—” she started, but the world dimmed.

The next thing she knew, the nice guy’s arm snaked around her, supporting her weight as he led her around the edge of the crowd.

“Let’s get you to the restroom so you can splash your face,” he was saying. “I texted your friend to meet you there.”

Persephone nodded. Talking was too much work. Walking was too much work but she fought to stay up on her feet and to keep stumbling along beside the nice man. He was strong and solid beside her and she clung to him with the little bit of strength she had.

She lifted her head and was blinded by the lights again. It was too much. All too much. The music pounded in her head with the force of an icepick. She needed quiet. Dark. She’d even take Mama’s cellar over this.

The thought made her feel hysterical.

Look how far I’ve come, Mama. The big city is as scary as you said after all.

No. Today was a bad day. She focused on lifting her feet. One and then the other. Holding on to the man to stay upright.

Gods, it felt like they’d been walking forever. Weren’t they to the bathrooms yet?

She finally hazarded looking up again. And frowned when she saw they were in a hallway. She twisted and looked over her shoulder.

Wait, they’d passed the bathrooms. She tried to dig her feet in. She needed to let the man know he’d made a mistake.

“Bathr—” she tried to say but he cut her off.

“Shh, quiet, kid. Everything’s gonna be fine. Just fine.”

But his voice didn’t sound right. More like he was talking to a child he was annoyed at.

“No.” She shook her head. Not right. This wasn’t right.

She tried to pull away from him but his fingers closed around her arms like talons, and instead of gently leading her, he was yanking her forward.

Stop! Help! she screamed in her head. But only little whimpers came out.

He was shoving her out the back door of the club. The cool night air hit her like a thousand tiny needles and she finally managed a shriek.

But it was too late. The door closed behind them as quickly as it had opened.

“Shut up, bitch,” the man said, pulling keys from his pocket. There was a black car parked in the alley not far away and the lights lit up as he pressed a button on the fob.

No! No, no, no.

Persephone tried to fight. In her head she was fighting tooth and nail. Screaming and flailing and clawing.

But outwardly, she must not have been putting up much of a fight because the brute lifted her slender body with no problem at all. He shoved her in the back of his car, face first into a leather seat. The car door slammed.

He didn’t even bother to restrain her. He didn’t have to.

She was helpless as he hit the gas, tires screeching. She was tossed against the back of the seat and, when he stopped, she was dumped into the footwell.

Ow!

But no. Pain was good. She blinked and tried to focus on it.

She couldn’t let herself pass out. He must have drugged her cranberry juice. Stupid. So freaking stupid! She hadn’t let the drink out of her sight. At least she thought she hadn’t. But he had taken it from the bartender to hand to her. If he was good at sleight of hand, he could have dosed the drink while passing it.

Tired. So tired. She blinked her heavy eyelids closed. Once. Twice.

The car accelerated fast and the jolt had her eyes shooting open again. Shit! Had she almost fallen asleep?

What the hell was she thinking? If she fell asleep, she was dead. She’d be raped and murdered and all the terrible things her mom had warned her about. It was all happening. First with Paul, and now being drugged and kidnapped, oh gods oh gods?—

Stop it! Stop freaking panicking.

She forced her eyes open as wide as they could go and she tried to focus. She’d only sipped about a third of the glass of cranberry juice. She had to try to get out of this. The man was taking her somewhere, but they weren’t there yet. There was still time.

Rain spattered the windows as the car rolled down the dark streets. They were still in the city. Okay. She had to escape the car the next time it stopped. The man was obviously counting on her being passed out by this point or too incapacitated to try anything.

Probably because you weren’t even able to walk on your own back at the club.

But she hadn’t been terrified for her life then. Adrenaline surged through her veins, painting her options in stark black and white.

The car turned a corner and her body seemed to flip 360 degrees, everything went so topsy turvy… until she realized she was wedged so tightly in the footwell, she hadn’t moved at all, frozen like a rabbit hiding from a wolf.

So maybe her head wasn’t perfectly clear. Still, no way she was gonna lie here and accept whatever this guy had planned for her.

When the car next slowed, she exploded into action.

Meaning she sluggishly climbed back up onto the seat and reached for the door handle. Her limbs were concrete. It took her several precious seconds to figure out how to flip the lock, but she pulled the handle right as the car came to a stop.

The door opened and she hurled her body into the night.

“Hey!” she heard the guy shout as she hit the wet pavement. Raindrops smacked her face.

Up. Get up, now, she shouted at herself. Instead, she lay there dazed. The city swirled around her, towering skyscrapers stretching into the endless night. She was small as a raindrop, a wet splat on the blacktop...

Feet hit the ground as the driver side door opened and her kidnapper got out.

She dragged herself off the ground, using her door for leverage. She spared only the quickest, frantic glance around. They were stopped at a red light. Rain beat down on the empty sidewalks. Everywhere she looked, shops were dark and silent.

But far ahead down the sidewalk off to her right, one door was illuminated. Light. Light meant people. People who could help her. Or if nothing else, it meant a place to hide.

She ran toward the light. The world narrowed to a dark tunnel, her hope shrinking to the size of the cone of rain-washed light. She ran, bare feet smacking cold puddles. Her heels had fallen off somewhere along the way, thank the Fates. She was much steadier without them. The rain biting at her cheeks sharpened her focus. She ran, adrenaline powering her forward, the man’s shouts chasing, but not catching up. Yet.

She tumbled down the steps that cut below street level and slammed into the door. The man’s shouts were closer than ever. He was almost on top of her. She yanked at the door handle, managed to drag it open, and rushed inside.

Her refuge was a bar or club of some sort, probably private, judging from the subdued lighting and mahogany wood that filled the place with shadows. Dimly she could make out an empty bar and booths lit by small lamps.

Crap, why was she standing here taking in the décor? Her kidnapper would be on her any second. Trying to quiet her breathing, she slipped toward the wall on her left, hugging the shadows and dripping as she went. She passed a doorman’s stool and a coat room. Where was the bouncer? If this was a private club, would they kick her out?

She looked down at herself. Her little black dress was smeared with mud from the street and she was sure her face didn’t look much better.

But she was thinking more clearly. Finally. So there was that.

And there wasn’t a bouncer that she could see. When she paused and listened hard, all she heard was the pounding of her heart, and a few subdued voices in the back. The place was closed for the night, or very, very exclusive. If she moved quietly enough, she might be able to find a back door and leave unnoticed.

Her plan held for a few seconds, but the door behind her burst open, slamming into the wall with a loud bang. No! She bit back a scream, cringing in the shadows. The arrival of her pursuer caught more than her attention, though.

From the far left came a shout. The bouncer, finally making an appearance.

“Hey, man, you can’t come in here.”

Persephone blindly felt along the wall until she nearly fell into a corridor. She waited a moment, listening.

“I was with my girl—I need to see if she came in here . . .”

Scared as she was, everything in Persephone protested: I’m not his girl; I’d never met him before tonight. The bouncer was also arguing with him, telling him the place was private.

“If you remain here, Mr. Ubeli ain’t gonna be happy with you.” The man’s voice was unnaturally deep, and Persephone imagined he was a huge man, a brute in a suit. “You need to leave.”

“No, I’m telling you, she ran this way . . .”

The seconds ticked by, and Persephone realized that her pursuer wasn’t going to leave.

Thumping footsteps, a shout— “Hey, you can’t go in there!”

Persephone backed deeper into the hallway. She turned and grabbed the closest doorknob she could find. Locked. Frantic, she moved down to the next one. The voices were getting closer.

The door opened. Blindly, she rushed through and closed it, cutting off the shouts.

Inside the light was subdued, the room a long dim expanse filled with as many shadows as the club. Persephone stood with her back to the door, and gasped as soon as her eyes adjusted to the light.

In front of her, beyond an expanse of rich red carpet, was a desk.

Behind the desk was a man.

She froze. Her sluggish mind turned to this new problem. The man wore a suit tailored to broad shoulders. His head was bent, his dark hair gleaming, as he worked by desk light in the long, dark room.

He looked important. Interrupting this man with his imposing office in a very private club would probably only lead to trouble. Still, anything was better than the situation she’d escaped. Right?

She stood, barely daring to breathe, water dripping from her hem onto the beautiful rug. For a second Persephone thought that the man hadn’t seen her, he was so absorbed in the papers in front of him. In a fluid movement, though, he raised his head and looked straight at her the next moment.

Persephone moved back against the door. He was handsome, but in a terrifying way, like he’d been cut from marble and the sculptor had forgotten to smooth out the edges to soften the features. She could only guess at his age. Early thirties, maybe? Shadows rested on much of his face, especially under his eyes. These he moved over her, taking in her too-short dress, her unshod feet, her wet hair.

Persephone, heart racing painfully, stood like a statue.

Neither of them said anything.

Slowly the man rose, a question forming on his lips. Persephone also stepped forward, mind racing with possible explanations.

But she met the man’s eyes, dark gray, accented by the brooding light, and her mind went blank. She wasn’t sure if it was the remnants of the drugs in her system or just being near this man. She swallowed hard.

Behind her, a knock sounded sharply against the door. Persephone shot backward, her arms wrapped around herself.

“Mr. Ubeli?” someone called.

“Yes?” the man answered without taking his eyes from her.

The door opened slightly and Persephone shrank back. The speaker didn’t enter the room though, and she was completely hidden behind the door.

“We got a guy out here; says he’s lost some lamb he’s lookin’ out for. You hear?”

“I hear, Charon,” said the man called Mr. Ubeli. “Get rid of him.”

Persephone felt her whole body relax. Her breath escaped silently, even as Charon said, “You got it, boss. Do you want me to dump him?”

“No, turn him away.” Mr. Ubeli glanced down at his desk, shifting some papers as he called out orders. “Smack him a bit if he means trouble.”

“Yeah, Mr. Ubeli. Will do.”

The door closed, leaving Persephone exposed again, alone with Mr. Ubeli. For a moment, he studied her with narrowed eyes.

“Was that guy giving you trouble?” he asked, moving out from behind his desk.

“Yes,” Persephone whispered. “Thank you.”

Hunching her shoulders, she shivered, and Mr. Ubeli came forward carefully, like she was a wild animal that might run.

She shrank away, but he walked past her, going to the coatrack beside the door and lifting a coat from it. Returning, he held it out, shaking the sleeve toward her arm.

For a second Persephone didn’t move. She stared up at the man, into the deep, shadowed eyes. Turning, she put her arm through the sleeve, and let him help her into the coat. Once it was on, she realized it was a suit jacket, gray and too big for her, hanging slightly over her hands.

But as she wrapped it around herself, it felt like a shield against all that had happened tonight. The wave of relief hit her so hard that she all but collapsed into the chair the man guided her to in front of his desk.

She was finally safe.

It was over.

She sank back into the chair. She hoped her wet dress wouldn’t ruin the red leather but she couldn’t give it more than a moment’s thought. It was so warm in here. Warmth and safety felt like everything that mattered in the world.

Stupid, really. She was still out of a job. And since the job had been a live-in nannying gig, she was also out of a place to live. She drew the coat even tighter around herself.

“You were his girl?”

It took a second to register his meaning, but as soon as it did— “No,” Persephone said violently, shaking her head and shuddering, “No. I didn’t know him before tonight. He put something in my drink. And he—he?—”

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyebrows furrowed. “I’ll make sure he never shows his face around here again.”

Who was this man, to make such a promise? But the way he stated it, with such authority, made her believe it. It should have disconcerted her, maybe.

Instead all she felt was relief.

Relief and warmth.

She nuzzled her head into the plush leather of the wing-backed chair. Gods she was tired. More tired than she’d ever been in her whole life.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Persephone,” she said automatically, and then pressed her lips together. Should she have told him her name? Strangers are dangerous, her mother’s words rang through her head. The outside world is treacherous. It’s only safe here on the farm. I’m the only one you can trust.

“Nice to meet you, Persephone. I’m Hades. Hades Ubeli.”

She nodded sleepily.

“Nice…to meet you…too.”

Her eyes kept falling shut. It was rude and she struggled to blink them open. She really did. Well, maybe she’d rest them. But only for a moment.

Only…a…moment.

But the warmth folded her under and she fell asleep.