Chapter 3
Seph
I stood in my new room; the walls painted a sterile white that reflected the harsh overhead lights. The space stretched out, bigger than anywhere I’d ever lived, yet it felt like a prison cell. An expensive prison cell, but a cage nonetheless.
The furniture was sleek and modern, all sharp edges and cold surfaces.
A massive bed loomed in the corner, its plush comforter mocking my sense of despair.
I turned slowly, taking in the polished wood and the glass accents.
Everything sparkled, too clean, too perfect.
No warmth lingered here; no traces of life dared to intrude.
I tried to breathe deeply, to ground myself in this new reality. But my lungs tightened as if they’d closed up shop for the night. The air felt thick and suffocating, stifling any thoughts of escape that flitted through my mind. Hades was just outside the door—waiting.
A rush of anger surged through me at the thought of him lurking there like a predator ready to pounce. I gritted my teeth, wishing I could turn back time to before all this madness started. But that was impossible; this was my life now.
I pressed my palms against the cool surface of a dresser, feeling its unyielding strength beneath my fingers. He’s always waiting. The truth settled heavily on me—he would be right outside that door, watching and listening with those calculating eyes that saw right through me.
A soft thud echoed from beyond the door. He waited for me to make a move, to react to his presence like a marionette dancing on strings. My heart raced at the thought of facing him again; his mere existence twisted inside me like barbed wire.
Get yourself together, I told myself, but the words sounded hollow in this empty space. No amount of bravado could drown out the dread pooling in my stomach.
He’d taken everything from me—my freedom, my choices—and now he wanted more than just compliance; he wanted submission.
I fought against it, but each breath felt like a betrayal as I realized just how trapped I truly was.
I locked the door, my heart pounding in my chest. The click of the latch echoed in the silence, a small act of defiance against the looming threat outside. I leaned against the door, waiting, straining to hear anything beyond the smooth wood.
Nothing.
The quiet pressed down on me, thick and heavy. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, before pushing away from the door. The room felt vast and empty, but I wouldn’t let it intimidate me. I needed to reclaim some sense of control.
I moved to the dresser first, tugging open a drawer.
My eyes widened as I pulled out neatly folded clothes—silk blouses in soft pastels and tailored skirts that screamed sophistication.
They were all in my size, as if someone had known exactly what I would want to wear.
I slammed the drawer shut, anger flaring up inside me like wildfire.
I didn’t want any of this.
Next, I turned my attention to the closet. The doors swung open with a soft whoosh, revealing an array of shoes—heels that could cut glass and boots that looked like they meant business. Coats hung neatly alongside dresses that shimmered like promises I never intended to keep.
I stepped back, shaking my head in disbelief. He planned this. Every detail orchestrated with precision—the wardrobe curated for a life I hadn’t chosen but was now forced into.
The realization gnawed at me; this wasn’t just a temporary arrangement. It was a calculated move on Hades’ part—a way to erase any trace of my old life while crafting an entirely new one that revolved around him.
I felt trapped in a meticulously designed cage decorated with frills and fabric, each item waiting for me as if it had always been meant for this moment. My stomach churned at the thought of his satisfaction when he saw how perfectly everything fit into place.
I won’t wear them, I promised myself, each article a symbol of his control over me.
Determined not to succumb to despair just yet, I paced around the room instead, searching for something—anything—that could help me regain my footing in this surreal nightmare.
I turned away from the closet, anger bubbling up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. I needed to escape this suffocating room, to break free from the chains he had forced me into. I marched to the windows, my heart racing with each step.
The first window loomed before me, its sleek frame gleaming in the artificial light. I gripped the handle and pulled. Nothing. It didn’t budge. My fingers fumbled over the latch, desperation clawing at my insides as I pressed my forehead against the cold glass.
No fire escape. No balcony. No way out.
I closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to calm down. This wasn’t just a prison; it was a fortress designed by Hades himself. He thought of everything—no escape routes for me to plot and scheme.
I stepped back, frustration surging through me like electricity.
My gaze landed on the dresser again, specifically on a delicate perfume bottle sitting there, shimmering in the light like a beacon of rebellion. The sweet floral scent taunted me with memories of carefree days that felt long gone.
With sudden resolve, I snatched it up and held it tightly in my fist. The glass felt cool against my palm as I approached the mirror above the dresser. My reflection stared back at me—wide-eyed and defiant.
This is for you, I thought bitterly, thinking of how he orchestrated every part of this twisted game.
Without hesitation, I hurled the bottle against the mirror. The sound of shattering glass pierced through the air like a gunshot. Pieces flew everywhere—some landed near my feet while others scattered across the room.
The scent filled my nostrils, sweet yet cloying, choking me as I stood there breathing it in along with my rage.
I waited in silence, heart pounding in my chest, hoping for some kind of reaction—an alarm bell ringing or footsteps approaching—but nothing came.
For a moment, all that existed was chaos—the broken glass glinting on the floor and shards reflecting fragments of myself that felt so far removed from who I used to be.
I stood there, heart racing, surrounded by the wreckage of my own making, like a child who had just thrown a tantrum. The shards of glass glittered on the floor like tiny stars, but instead of feeling empowered, dread curled in my stomach. I had expected rage, punishment, cruelty.
Instead?
Silence.
And that? That was so much worse.
The quiet pressed in around me, thick and oppressive. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had crossed an invisible line.
A knock on the door shattered the stillness. I froze, my breath hitching in my throat.
“Break whatever you want,” Hades called out, his voice smooth and unyielding. “But don’t think for a second it’ll change anything.”
His calmness unnerved me more than any display of anger could have. I didn’t respond; I couldn't find my voice amid the tumult of emotions roiling inside me.
I took a step back, away from the chaos at my feet. Another step followed as if my body sought refuge from his words that lingered like smoke in the air.
“After the wedding,” he continued, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact, “this door won’t be here, Persephone.”
My heart sank further at his implication.
“You and I will share a room.”
A wave of nausea rolled over me at the thought of being trapped with him in such an intimate space—a place where I couldn’t escape his presence or his control.
“Enjoy your solitude while it lasts.”
The finality in his voice sent shivers down my spine. My sanctuary would soon become another layer of confinement—his twisted version of intimacy closing around me like a vice grip.
I stood frozen in the aftermath of my rebellion, heart racing as I listened to Hades’ footsteps linger outside my door. The silence stretched between us, thick and oppressive. I could feel him there, waiting, his presence a shadow that refused to dissipate.
Every second felt like an eternity, the weight of what I’d just done pressing down on me. I half-expected him to burst through the door, rage simmering beneath that cool exterior. But instead, he remained silent, as if savoring my discomfort.
Then finally, his footsteps retreated down the hall.
I exhaled sharply, relief washing over me in waves but quickly followed by a sense of emptiness. The tension left my shoulders; it felt almost surreal. I took a moment to collect myself before my gaze drifted back to the shattered mirror reflecting a fragmented version of me.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. Those were luxuries I could no longer afford. Instead, I just stood there—my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum beating out a rhythm of defiance mixed with dread.
The shards glimmered under the harsh light, each piece showing a different angle of my face twisted with fury and fear. A ghost of the girl I used to be flickered in the reflections—strong yet vulnerable, wild yet caged.
With every breath, reality crashed back in around me; this wasn’t just about broken glass or an impulsive act of insanity. This was about control—the kind Hades wielded effortlessly over everything and everyone in his life.
I gripped the edge of the dresser until my knuckles turned white, grounding myself against that suffocating truth. He’d taken everything from me: freedom, choices, even my family’s trust.
But more than that?
He was playing a game—and it seemed I had stepped right into it without knowing the rules.
And Hades Sinclair never lost.
I fumbled for my phone, heart racing as I scrolled through my contacts.
Callista's name glared back at me, some kind of hope through all of this suffering my life had turned into.
Maybe there was a misunderstanding—maybe she had simply lost track of time.
There was no way she would stay away after hearing what had happened to me. No way.
I pressed her name, bringing the phone to my ear, each ring echoing like a countdown in my mind. I held my breath with each tone, willing her to pick up.
“Come on, Callie,” I whispered under my breath. “Please.”
But it went to voicemail. My stomach dropped as I listened to her cheerful voice—so full of life, so unlike this dark reality I found myself trapped in.
“Hey! You’ve reached Callista Moore! Leave a message!”
I hung up before the beep could sound. Frustration boiled inside me like molten lava. I tried again, my fingers shaking as I tapped the screen.
Callista, it’s me. Please pick up.
I could almost picture her at some glamorous event, surrounded by laughter and smiles while I rotted in this prison built by Hades' hand. It felt cruel to imagine her living life without even a thought of me.
The phone rang again, but it fell silent too soon—no answer, just empty echoes that mocked my desperation. A part of me wanted to scream into the void; another part felt like crying for the sister who always knew how to fix everything but had vanished when I needed her most.
What if she didn’t want to come back? What if she didn’t care?
A tight knot formed in my chest at the thought of losing her—not just as my sister but as my ally against this nightmare that enveloped us both.
I tossed the phone onto the bed, frustration clawing at me until all I could hear was the thudding pulse of silence surrounding me. No, I told myself fiercely. She wouldn’t abandon me.
But deep down, uncertainty gnawed at my insides like an insatiable beast.
Where are you, Callista?
I stepped back, my heart racing as I surveyed the shards scattered across the floor. But in my haste, I miscalculated and stepped right on a jagged piece of glass. A sharp pain shot through my foot, and I winced, feeling the sting radiate up my leg.
I glanced down to see a thin line of crimson seeping from the cut, trickling down to mix with the remnants of the shattered perfume bottle. My breath hitched for a moment as I stared at the blood—a stark contrast against the pale tile.
But honestly? The physical pain helped ground me. It anchored me to reality, a reminder that I could still feel something, even if it was just pain.
It actually felt… good.
I took a steadying breath and grabbed a nearby towel from the dresser. I pressed it against my foot, wincing again as the fabric brushed against the cut. Blood soaked through quickly, but I forced myself to focus on cleaning up the mess instead of getting lost in despair.
Carefully, I bent down and began gathering pieces of glass one by one.
Each shard felt like an extension of my frustration—the way they sparkled defiantly reminded me that I’d broken something important today.
My fingers trembled slightly as I worked, but it wasn’t just fear; it was determination coursing through me.
With every piece I picked up, I felt a surge of defiance rising within me—each shard removed felt like reclaiming a small part of myself that Hades thought he could control. This was my space now; this was my rebellion against everything he represented.
The sharp edges dug into my skin as I continued collecting remnants from the floor. Each time they pricked at me, sending another jolt of pain shooting up through my fingertips, it only reinforced my resolve to fight back against this oppressive darkness closing in around me.
Once I gathered all the glass into a pile on the towel, I stood back to survey my work—my breath came in short bursts as adrenaline surged through me. The room looked less chaotic now; perhaps there was hope hidden beneath this tangled mess after all.
With one last glance at the towel stained red with blood and fragments of what once was—a bitter reminder—I felt a flicker of strength ignite within me.
I wasn’t about to become a victim in Hades’ twisted game; I was Persephone Moore.
Survival had always been my forte—whether it was navigating the treacherous waters of family expectations or finding ways to evade the suffocating shadows that threatened to engulf me.
As the ache in my foot throbbed like a pulse of defiance, I felt a fire igniting deep within.
I couldn’t allow Hades to see me vulnerable; that would be handing him a victory he didn’t deserve.
I focused on my breathing, grounding myself in the present and pushing away any flickers of doubt that tried to creep in.
My mind raced through options and strategies, formulating plans while the chaos slowly began to settle.
This wasn’t just about escaping a room; it was about reclaiming my life from his grasp. I needed to be smart—strategic—and above all else; I had to remember who I was beneath this facade he tried to impose on me.