Chapter 21 #2
I’m the one who loves the darkness and weirdness—the moody horror junkie who doesn’t flinch at blood and dreams in shadows. Yet here I am, feeling like I’m losing my mind, while she struts around in a couture funeral gown like she’s at the Met Gala.
“But your dad was just a businessman,” I say. “What did he need bodyguards for?”
He gives me a tight, humorless smile. “I think we both know my family’s not actually in the shipping industry.”
Oh. Right.
“Try to keep up, Ally.” Amber snorts. “Hayes’s father was the King of Hades, obviously.”
I cough. “I’m sorry, the what?”
“Mr. Vassilios was Hades.” She stares at me like I’m the slowest person alive. “You know. The Greek god?”
I look from her to Hayes, studying their faces, searching for the tell. The smirk. The punchline. But there’s only silence and something sad and heavy in Hayes’s eyes, like a truth he’s been carrying for too long.
“No… that can’t be true…” I say.
It’s impossible. Hades isn’t real. He’s a myth. A story.
And even if he was real, he’s evil. The dark lord of the Underworld. He releases monsters, curses souls, and eats babies for breakfast—probably. Not a man I’ve known almost my entire life who wore polished, tassel shoes and Armani suits and made dad jokes at family barbecues.
“Look around, Ally. Is it really that hard to believe?” Amber says, then lights up like a Christmas tree. “And Hayes, he’s the Crown Prince. That means he’s next in line for the throne.”
I recoil against the headboard.
“No. That’s—no.”
Crown Prince? What is she even saying?
This is Hayes.
The boy who once glued my fingers together in art class and stayed on the phone with me all night playing Truth or Dare when we both had chicken pox in fifth grade. The one who held my hand through heartbreaks, karate competitions, and scary movie marathons.
Yeah, okay, so he’s always been a little… secretive.
No extended family. Vanishing every summer. But I always chalked that up to rich-people weirdness. Eccentricity.
And sure, there were weird moments I didn’t want to think too hard about. The accident in the treehouse. The fight with Dylan. And okay, yes, I am currently sitting in a bed in a palace in another world.
There are things, obviously, I can’t explain. But this? Full-blown Greek god royalty? If this is true—if this is real—then Hayes has been lying to me our whole lives. Everything I thought I knew about him was all a cover. A double life.
My hands grab a pillow, clutching it tight as the betrayal slices clean through me.
“I wanted to tell you so many times,” Hayes says, regret etched into every line of his face. “But I wasn’t allowed. There are rules. My father and his brothers made a pact. They agreed to hide their true identities from the human world. To avoid panic. Chaos.”
“It was necessary to keep Hayes safe,” Amber adds in a smug, know-it-all way. “Their family has a lot of enemies.”
That flicker of jealousy returns, sharp and unwelcome. I hate how calm she sounds. Despite whatever rules Hayes had to follow, he clearly broke them for her first. She’s not just finding out today, like I am.
“How long has she known?” The words scrape at my throat like sandpaper as I glare at him. “How long have you both been lying to me?”
“It’s not like that,” he says. “You have to understand, after my dad died, everything changed. Everything… sped up. I needed her help.”
“But not mine?” The hurt spills out before I can stop it.
“Al, please—”
“So what, you just pretend to be human when it’s convenient?” I cut him off, struggling to keep my voice level. “Because I’ve seen you get hurt. Break bones. Bleed. You’ve grown up, Hayes. How is all that possible?”
“I’m not Edward Cullen, if that’s what you’re asking.
” A flicker of dark humor tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“I was born eighteen years ago—same as you. The difference is, I’m immortal.
I get to stop aging when I choose.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight.
“My mother was raised on Earth. She wanted me to have a normal childhood, like she did. She thought it would make me a better ruler. As long as I spent summers here, I could live the rest of the year above.”
“And your dad was here mostly,” I say, putting it together. “That’s why he was gone so much?”
“It was part of the deal,” he says, nodding. “Mom wanted me to understand both worlds. But Dad had duties that couldn’t wait.”
More pieces slide into place. All those arguments about the family business. Hayes’s future. The pressure.
This is why.
“Okay,” I say, sagging back against the headboard, pressing fingers to my temples. A migraine brews behind my eyes, sharp and steady. “So you’re the Greek god prince of… whatever this place is. That still doesn’t explain what she’s doing here.” I jab a finger at my sister. “Or me. We’re nobodies.”
“Oh, let’s just tell her already,” Amber trills, practically bouncing on her toes.
“Amber, no. Not yet.” Hayes’s jaw tightens. “We already discussed—”
“I’m going to be a princess, Ally!” she blurts, talking right over him, her eyes sparkling. “Like an actual fairy-tale princess. Isn’t it amazing?”
“I’m sorry—a what now?”
Hayes’s shoulders go stiff, and he looks away, like he’s suddenly very interested in the walls.
“See, there’s this prophecy…” he begins.
As soon as he says the word, a twisted thought slams into me.
Maybe I’ve read one too many chosen-one fantasy novels, but if he tells me I’m his long-lost Olympian sister—if this turns into some sick Star Wars twist—I swear I will march myself straight back to that black river of death and jump in willingly.
But then I glance at Amber still draped all over him and feel a flicker of relief. No way she’d be acting like that if they were actually related.
“The prophecy is about me,” she cuts in again, beaming. “I’m going to marry Hayes and become Princess of the Underworld. Can you believe it, Ally?”
A laugh escapes me, loud and sharp, and maybe a little manic. Of everything I’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours—hellmouths, skeletal ferrymen, black rivers, and screaming souls—the idea that Hayes and Amber are somehow destined to be married is hands-down the most absurd.
“What’s so funny?” she snaps, one hand flying to her hip.
“Oh, come on.” I shake my head. “You may act like a princess, Amber, but that doesn’t magically make you one.”
I glance at Hayes, waiting for him to join my laughter and tell her to knock it off.
“She’s telling the truth,” Hayes says, his voice low and flat. “We have seers here. The gods have always relied on them.” He goes quiet for a moment. “When I was born, Tiresias—one of the oldest and most respected—gave my parents a prophecy.”
His tone shifts. His voice is mechanical now, like something he’s memorized long ago:
“In the decade of the Prince,
a girl—part Earth, part Under—will be born
in the northwestern hemisphere during Samhain.
She will marry the Prince,
and by her will, the immortal races will be united,
and balance restored.”
I stare at him.
“You’re telling me that vague-ass riddle is why you think my sister is your fated bride?”
Hayes has the audacity to just shrug.
“She fits the criteria,” he says, then starts ticking things off on his fingers. “Same decade. October birthday. Western U.S. And she’s a halfbreed—half mortal, half immortal.” He meets my eyes. “Want to venture a guess how many girls check all those boxes?”
“But that doesn’t make sense. Amber’s not a half-anything. She’s normal,” I say. “Just like me.”
Hayes shoots Amber a look, tense and tight. “I told you this was too much for today.”
“She’ll be fine.” Amber waves him off. “She’s tough. She can handle it.”
“Handle what?” I bite out. “Just say it already.”
There’s a beat. Then Hayes exhales slowly, carefully.
“Your father wasn’t mortal, Al. He was a Titan.”
My chest locks up, my lungs straining as if all the air’s been vacuumed out of the room.
A Titan?
Not a deadbeat. Not some coward who abandoned us. A literal Titan god. Just like Mom always said.
All those times I thought she’d lost it, spinning stories about gods and magic and bloodlines. I chalked it up to grief. Delusion. But she was telling the truth this whole time. And Hayes—
He let me believe she was crazy.
“How could you?” I whisper. “You let me think my mom was sick. That there was something wrong with her—”
“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice thick with guilt.
“You knew how scared I was. And you said nothing?”
His hands fall uselessly to his sides. He doesn’t deny it.
“I couldn’t tell you until you were here, in the Underworld—safe. There were rules…”
He uses that fucking word again—rules—like it somehow excuses everything he’s done. It makes me want to explode.
“That’s bullshit! You care more about your precious rules than you care about me!”
His head snaps up, eyes dark with something primal and brutal.
“They would’ve killed you!” he roars. “Zeus. Poseidon. If they found out you knew, they’d have wiped you off the planet without blinking!”
I freeze, the force of his words hitting like a slap. But Hayes isn’t done.
“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” he continues, his voice trembling with emotion.
“I’m sorry you’re mad. I’m sorry even if you hate me now.
But I wasn’t going to gamble with your life.
” He takes a step forward, energy crackling off him.
“I know you don’t like how things are. I don’t like them much either,” he says.
“But don’t you ever fucking say I don’t care. ”
My breath catches as the anger in me dies, doused by his confession like water on flame. As much as I want to hold onto the rage, to keep railing against all the ways I’ve been wronged, I can’t. Because his words—the raw fear in his voice, the look on his face—I can tell he means it.
Every single word.
I still don’t know why he told her first, but I believe him when he says it wasn’t out of distrust. It’s painfully clear he was terrified for me.