Chapter 13 Persephone #2
The walls felt smaller. The floor felt thinner. The shadows seemed to shift with every breath Hades took.
I swallowed hard, my voice barely finding a way out. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
It came out quieter than I wanted. Weaker.
But it was the truth.
Still, neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.
Because this wasn’t about me anymore.
It was about power.
Possession.
And the terrifying realization that I was standing between two men willing to tear each other apart—
One to protect me.
The other to keep me.
The air shifted.
Thick. Suffocating.
Like a storm pressing down on the roof, waiting to crack the house open.
Hades stood there—my husband—cut from fury and shadow, the low light clinging to the sharp lines of his body like armor. His eyes locked on me, then Cliff, and something inside them darkened.
“Bringing men into my house has consequences,” he said, voice calm. Too calm.
Each word slid like a blade across my skin.
“Cliff is my best friend!” I snapped, the words bursting out of me, fire rising to meet ice.
His lip curled, cruel and slow. A predator baring its teeth. “Correction,” he murmured. “He was your best friend. My wife doesn’t need any other man in her life.”
The room tilted.
“What about my father?” I threw back, fury sharpening my voice. “Or is he off-limits too?”
Hades smiled.
But it wasn’t soft.
It was wicked.
“He sold you to me, sweetheart,” he said, eyes glittering. “I’ll be the only one you ever call Daddy.”
The air snapped.
Cliff flinched. His face twisted—pure disgust. “You’re sick,” he growled.
And then—he moved.
Fast. Too fast.
But Hades moved faster.
He stepped aside like it was a dance, a blur of motion—and then his fist crashed into Cliff’s ribs with a brutal, punishing crack.
Cliff went down hard, a choked sound ripping from his throat as he hit the floor.
“Cliff!” I screamed, heart lurching out of my chest.
I surged forward—but Hades turned on me.
Just his gaze.
That was all it took.
He didn’t raise his hand. He didn’t need to.
“Touch him,” he said, voice cold as winter, “and I’ll actually try to hurt him.”
I stopped.
Froze.
Because I believed him. God, I believed him.
His eyes held me there—pinned me like prey caught mid-flight. Possessiveness radiated off him in waves, licking down my spine, coiling in my gut like fear and heat tangled into one.
I swallowed hard. Looked back at Cliff, curled on the floor, one arm braced over his ribs.
Still breathing. Barely.
But I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Get up,” I said, my voice trembling. Not to Hades. To Cliff. “Please—just get up.”
Cliff groaned, pushing himself onto his hands, glaring at Hades with fury that didn’t quite mask the fear underneath it.
Hades stepped closer.
He didn’t touch me.
But I felt him all the same.
His shadow loomed over everything—over Cliff, over me, over this house like a curse we couldn’t outrun.
And I knew, with sickening certainty, that this wasn’t just about today.
It was about control.
About belonging.
And in Hades’ world?
There was no such thing as freedom.
Only submission.
My heart thundered in my chest, pounding so loud I could barely hear the question when it came.
“Do you want him to stay?”
Hades didn’t shout it.
He didn’t need to.
His voice was soft. Lethal.
Like a knife pressed just beneath the skin.
I froze.
The words lodged in my throat, sharp and immovable, like saying either answer would cut me from the inside out. My lungs squeezed tight. My mouth wouldn’t open.
Across the room, Cliff was still on the floor, one arm braced over his ribs, breathing heavy—but not broken.
Not yet.
But I saw it in Hades’ eyes—cold, clear, terrifying.
If I said yes?
Cliff wouldn’t leave this house on his feet, if he'd leave at all.
If I said no?
Hades would win.
He’d wear that victory like a crown. He’d twist it into something I couldn’t come back from. I’d never hear the end of it. He’d whisper it in my ear while I slept. While I dressed. While I tried to forget what it meant.
My silence stretched, a scream I couldn’t let out.
I looked at Cliff.
I wanted to tell him to run.
To fight.
To stop looking at me like I was the same girl he used to know.
But I didn’t say anything.
Because I wasn’t her anymore.
I was his.
And Hades knew it.
He stepped toward me—slow, deliberate—like he had all the time in the world to make me crack. His hand landed on my waist.
Not soft.
Not cruel.
Just… final.
Like a claim.
I flinched. But I didn’t pull away.
Because the truth was: he didn’t need to break me when silence would do the job just fine.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, voice like velvet and venom.
The words slid over my skin and sank deep.
Cliff moved behind him, dragging himself upright, his jaw clenched and eyes full of betrayal. He looked at me like I’d handed the wolf the keys to the gate. Maybe I had.
But I couldn’t meet his eyes.
Not with Hades’ fingers gripping my waist.
Not with the ring still heavy on my hand.
I stood there, frozen in the space between fear and defeat.
Between loyalty and survival.
The air crackled.
Hades didn’t say another word.
Because I’d already answered him. Without ever opening my mouth.