2. Persephone

Chapter 2

Persephone

Seven years later

I t was the day before my eighteenth birthday when I felt what true pain was like.

My parents had been taken from me, leaving me an orphan and at the mercy of a world that was cruel.

The thought of seeing their flowers topped with white and purple colors came to my mind, but I blinked quickly.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to let the memory of their caskets lowering into the ground consume me.

"I'm so sorry."

"My condolences."

"Thoughts and prayers with you."

Those were the things people said to my face, empty words thrown to placate others because they didn't know what else to say.

"Zachariah and Diana were the best of us."

"Poor thing."

"Losing her parents so young."

"What is she going to do now? So sad she's an orphan."

Those were the things said behind my back, whispered words that still carried to me.

I was numb. Is this what it felt to die? Was there just… nothing?

The present—reality—filtered back to me, and I stared around the vast drawing room in my parents' home, where everyone had congregated after the service.

This heavy silence, this deep foreboding, suddenly weighed down on me.

I turned my attention to the entrance of the home that I'd lived in my entire life. The entrance I'd gone through and left more times than I could count.

The spot in my house where my mom would stand and wave as I left for school, or where my parents would kiss goodbye before my dad left for work.

I felt something heavy lodge in my throat as I gazed at the man who stood at that entrance.

Hades.

It was the first time I'd seen him in far too many years. My last memory of him was standing on the balcony as he told me happiness was nothing but poison.

Although the years had passed, he was still the same man he'd been before. Cold. Hard. Dead inside.

He wore all black, his hair the same dark color as his three-piece suit, his eyes like pieces of chipped onyx as he stared right at me.

The sky was turning shades of gray, an impending storm threatening to further create a depressing atmosphere.

And when he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, I heard noise filtering back around me.

My uncle never took his gaze off me as he strode closer.

I was vaguely aware of people staring at us, others leaning in to whisper words, things that had nothing to do with my parents passing and everything to do with the man standing in front of me.

"You're here." I didn't know why I said the words.

"My brother and his wife died." I flinched at how candid he was, as if he were reciting the stock market. "Why wouldn't I come to pay my respects?"

The man before me was a stranger, even if he shouldn't have been.

I didn't know how long we stood there, staring at each other, no one speaking as this uncomfortable heat and thickness surrounded me.

Hades glanced around the room, his upper lip curling as if he found everything and everyone disgusting. "Fucking leeches. All of these bastards." He spoke more to himself than to me or them.

When he faced me again, my breath caught. There was something in Hades' eyes that had me taking a step back. Survival rose in me, and I shivered, wrapping my arms around my waist as if holding on to myself was some kind of life preserver.

"I didn't think you'd come." I didn't know why I said those words, didn't know why I said anything at all to him.

He slipped his hands in the front pockets of his slacks, but didn't respond.

"After this, you'll meet with me. We have some things to discuss."

The tone of his voice took me back. He was cut from the same cloth as my grandfather. I remembered as much from the times I'd been around Michael Cronus. I hadn't seen him in far too long, though. Which I'd had no problem with.

They had been like sharks, or piranhas when they smelled blood. They were used to getting what they wanted when they wanted it. But no one denied them. Not unless they wanted to feel the wrath.

"I—"

"Meet me in Zachariah's study." Hades cut me off, ordering me to do his bidding—because there wasn't any other way to describe his tone.

I felt something tighten in my throat at hearing my father's name, and something harder pulsed in my chest at the very disconnected, apathetic tone in his voice.

But I wouldn't make a scene even though I wanted to tell him to fuck off, to ask who did he think he was ordering me around when he hadn't been in my life.

So instead, I nodded, clasped my hands in front of my black dress, and kept my composure in front of all these people. That was what my parents would've wanted. They would've expected no less.

A prim and proper lady in front of society. Because God forbid I tarnish the Cronus name.

The corner of his mouth slowly lifted in what would've been a smile if a man like Hades could produce one.

He let his gaze travel from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes before slowly dragging it back up. I shivered, felt my face heat at his appraisal, his examination.

"So amicable," he murmured, staring into my eyes. "That's a good girl."

My lips parted in shock, but before I could respond, before I could even take a deep breath to form a retort, he turned and left, disappearing into the sea of bodies.

I stood there staring, gaping like a fish out of water. I had this very foreboding sense of dread settle over me.

Whatever Hades had to talk to me about, I knew it couldn't be anything good.