The panic surged.
If I left—if I ran—what would be left of me?
And if I stayed… who would I become?
Would I vanish completely?
Would I look in the mirror one day and not see a girl at all—just a thing wrapped in velvet and silence? A ghost in his bed, in his house, in his world?
Was that already happening?
I dropped my head against the railing, breathing in the cold until it burned.
“You’re mine,” he’d said.
And worse?
Part of me believed it.
Part of me wanted it.
Not because I loved him.
But because being wanted that fiercely, that violently—it made me feel real.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
I felt him before I saw him.
The temperature shifted. The air stretched tight. His shadow reached me first, darkening the floorboards like it belonged here more than I did.
I didn’t turn around.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t breathe.
I just stared at the city. At the lights dancing so far away. At the freedom I could see but never touch.
He said nothing.
Of course he didn’t.
Hades only spoke when silence had done its damage first.
Then—
thud.
Something landed beside me with the weight of a threat.
Still, I didn’t look.
“Don’t you want to see what I brought you?” His voice slid into the space between us like a silk ribbon tightened around my throat. Too smooth. Too easy. Always with the illusion of choice.
My hands clenched around the railing, nails biting into the metal. I wouldn’t give him the reaction he wanted.
“You’re going to wear it,” he said, more command than prediction. Calm. Confident. Certain of the outcome.
