A Touch of Ruin (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 2)
A Touch of Ruin: Part 1 – Chapter 8

When Persephone arrived at work the next day, the crowd outside the Acropolis had grown to include members of Apollo’s cult—worshippers and die-hard fans. They were obvious because they wore wreaths of laurel in their hair and gold dust like warpaint. Even from inside Hades’ Lexus, Persephone heard angry shouts.

“Liar!”

“Apologize to Apollo!”

“You’re just jealous!”

“Bitch!”

Clearly her article had been published.

Antoni looked in the rearview mirror at her.

“Would you like me to walk you to the door, my lady?”

Persephone stared out the window. Security had already approached the car and were prepared to escort her.

Gods. What had she done?

“No, Antoni. That’s alright.”

He nodded once. “I’ll return for you this afternoon.”

When she left the car, she was thrust into a hostile and unfamiliar world. Everything was so loud, and she felt everyone’s emotions—anger and hate, anxiety and fear—they weighed upon her chest, smothering her.

“Come, my lady,” one of the security guards said. He stuck his arm out as if to corral her but didn’t touch her. She looked at him, blinking.

“Did you call me ‘my lady’?” she asked.

The guard blushed.

“It’s not safe out here, hurry!”

She knew it wasn’t safe. She could feel the violence of the crowd growing and by the time she reached the entrance, part of the crowd had broken out into a fight. She was ushered inside, and turned to watch as the officers took charge, dividing the throng and diffusing the situation.

I don’t understand. All of this over a few words I wrote.

No one had gotten this angry when she had written about Hades, but she knew why—the God of the Underworld was hardly beloved, just intriguing. Apollo was the literal God of Light. He was a God of Music and Poetry. He represented all the things in life mortals wanted.

Including the darkness they never wanted to acknowledge.

When she turned to head up the elevator, she found she was being watched by everyone on the first floor—the front desk receptionist, security, random employees.

They stared at her, wide-eyed and kept their distance. Maybe they were afraid Apollo would appear and strike her down. Whatever the case, she was glad to have an elevator to herself. The reprieve was short-lived, however, because the stares continued as she made her way to her desk.

Helen was her usual, chipper self, greeting Persephone and following her to her desk. The only indication she gave that she was aware of the backlash was when she informed Persephone that she hadn’t forwarded any calls to her voicemail.

“I could take over your email, if you’d like. Just for the day.”

“No, that’s okay, Helen.”

“Do you need anything? Coffee or a snack?”

Persephone thought for a moment. “Tylenol,” she answered. “And some water.”

“I’ll be right back!”

Helen returned a short time later. Persephone took the medicine tried to concentrate on her work which consisted of reading hate mail and staring at a black document that was supposed to contain her exclusive.

If she was being honest, she was on edge, waiting for Hades to slam his way through the doors of her workplace, gather her up and carry her off to the Underworld to be punished for her decision to betray him.

At first, she was anxious about his potential arrival, but as time passed, she became more and more frustrated with the God of the Dead.

What would it take to get his attention?

She got up and walked to the break room to make coffee. While there, she looked out the window. A crowd was still gathered outside the Acropolis.

“Your article is causing quite a stir.” Demetri joined her. He turned on the television in the corner. The news was streaming, and the headline read:

Hades’ Lover Attacks Beloved God.

She squeezed her coffee cup so hard, the lid came off sloshing hot liquid all over her hands. Demetri took it from her and handed her some napkins.

“You think they could at least use my name?”

“You might not want them to,” he said. “It’s probably best they remember who you belong to.”

Persephone glared at her boss. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Fair,” he said. “Poor word choice. I just meant that…you’ll want people to remember that you’re with Hades because they aren’t happy that you went after Apollo.”

That was obvious—and no wonder. The news was particularly critical of her article.

“She mentions eight mortal women who apparently experienced abuse from Lord Apollo, but where are they?”

“She’s only doing this because of her association with Hades. No other mortal would dare write this…trash about a god.”

“Guess she didn’t gain enough fame by sleeping with Hades. She had to go after Apollo, too. Is this the kind of fame you wanted, Persephone Rosi?”

She felt sick and frustrated and a little hopeless.

“This isn’t fair. They aren’t even trying to fact check,” she said.

He shrugged. “They’re probably too afraid.”

“That’s no reason to avoid it.”

Demetri sighed. “No, but it’s the way of our world. The vengeance of the gods is a real and feared thing.”

The news continued bashing Persephone for her critique of Apollo. For the fact that she used two stories from antiquity to illustrate his horrid behavior, claiming that all gods in antiquity were different from who they were now—that change was possible, and that Apollo should be forgiven.

Persephone snatched the remote from Demetri and turned off the television.

“They weren’t eager to come to Hades defense when I wrote about him,” she said.

“That’s because Hades is supposed to be feared. He’s supposed to be bad. Apollo he’s…the God of Music. The God of Light. He’s…revelry and beauty. He’s not supposed to be an asshole.”

“Well, he is!”

“You don’t have to convince me, Persephone. You have to convince the world.”

She shouldn’t have to convince anyone, but instead of a world recognizing a psychopathic god, they saw one that had just fallen deeply in love. They equated his relentless pursuit of men and women as romantic, and those who rejected him as unworthy.

It was fucked up.

“Look, if you want my advice—”

“I don’t,” she snapped.

“Persephone,” Demetri seemed desperate. “Look, I know…things haven’t been good between us this week, but I don’t want to watch you get bashed on national television for the next year.”

“Is that because of all the money you’ll lose when people stop buying the paper to read my work?”

He glared at her.

“It’s not about money,” he said. “You want respect in this industry and the reality is that you just lost a huge chunk of it. You want to climb that ladder? You can do one of two things—apologize….” She glared at him so hard, she thought she might melt him with her eyes. “Or write another article about Apollo. Find someone he’s hurt recently. Tell their story.”

Persephone frowned. “I…can’t.”

Demetri didn’t respond immediately. “Maybe you can’t,” he said. “And if not, you know what you have to do.”

“Your advice is shit,” she told him.

Her boss seemed genuinely hurt by her response, nearly flinching when the words left her mouth, but she didn’t really care. He had gone from advocating and defending her to opposing and discouraging her.

She thought he was a fighter, but when the going got tough, he rolled over.

There was no way she was going to apologize to Apollo when he’d hurt one of her closest friends. There was also no way she would ask Sybil for an interview. That would mean exposing her to the scrutiny Persephone was now experiencing.

She couldn’t do that to the oracle. She was rebuilding her life.

Gods this was such a mess.

At lunch, Persephone broke one of her rules and chanced teleportation to the rooftop of the Acropolis for some much-needed air.

She manifested herself on the edge of the roof, her heartbeat pounded in her chest as she stumbled away. Once she recovered from almost falling off the side of the high-rise, she stared down at the vast city of New Athens. It was beautiful and terrifying up here. She could see the darkness of Hades’ tower, a shadow that split the city in half. The glimmering glass of Aphrodite’s La Rose, the beautiful and unique facade of Hera’s many hotels, the Olympian, the Pegasus, the Emerald Peacock. There were other monuments, too—marble statues of gods all over the city, and beautiful temples arranged on hilltops and mountainside cliffs.

She’d been so enchanted with the city when she’d first moved here. She’d fallen in love with everything it promised—endless possibilities, adventure, and freedom. It’s what kept her going when things got difficult, when she felt confused and lost and unwelcomed—all the things she felt now.

She searched for those promises amid the sprawling landscape, beyond the Acropolis and the angry crowd far below.

“Persephone?” a voice asked.

She whirled to replace Pirithous standing behind her. “How did you get up here?”

She opened her mouth to answer but realized she didn’t even know how this roof was accessed from the inside.

“Carefully,” she managed to answer with a small smile, which Pirithous matched.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked.

“Sometimes I like to eat lunch up here.”

It was then she noticed he was holding a lunch box. “Wanna share?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not all that hungry, but I’ll sit with you.”

His smile widened. “I’d like that. Come on. I know of a better place to sit away from the wind.”

Pirithous led her to another part of the roof blocked by a patrician where there was a set of chairs. The space overlooked the coast of New Athens, a line of pure white sand that met a foamy ocean of the deepest emerald.

It was a breathtaking view.

“Go ahead and sit,” he said.

Pirithous opened his lunch and took out a sandwich and a bag of chips.

“You sure you don’t want any?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He took a bite, and they looked out over the city. After a moment of silence, Pirithous prompted, “So, what are you doing up here?”

She sighed and chose not to look at him when she said, “I’m guessing you haven’t seen the news.”

“Can’t say that I have,” he answered.

He was the only mortal she knew who didn’t seem at all obsessed with the gods.

“Well, I messed up.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

She took a deep breath. “I kinda…chose to do something I promised Hades I wouldn’t do because I was angry with him and now…I can’t take it back.”

“Ah,” Pirithous offered a little laugh. He took a bit of his sandwich, talking as he chewed. “What did he do?”

“Something stupid,” she muttered. “I don’t think he sees the problem with what he did.”

Pirithous smiled in his sad way. She got the sense that he understood her situation more than he wanted to admit.

“They often don’t,” he commented.

“I don’t understand.”

He shrugged. “Men just don’t think.”

“That is really a horrible excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse, really. Just a reality. All you can do is keep fighting for what you want. If he wants you, he will work to understand you.”

She pursed her lips, feeling ridiculous. She knew now that she’d overreacted, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. She wanted him to feel as betrayed as she felt when she’d learned about Leuce. She wanted him to feel the frustration she’d felt with each passing hour that she hadn’t heard from him. She’d wanted to defy him, just to see if she could get a reaction.

“Am I being irrational?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, but emotions are emotions,” he said. “I have been the stupid boy before. I wish I had worked harder.”

Persephone felt she understood the sadness that clung to this man. She wondered what Hades would see if he looked at his soul.

“What stupid thing did you do?”

He took a deep breath. “You will be surprised, I think, given your history.”

Persephone’s brows drew together, but before she could ask what he meant, Pirithous explained.

“I gambled a lot—not the kind of gambling your boyfriend does. I used to bet on the Panhellenic Games. I was good—lucky, I guess. Until I wasn’t. Thought I was doing what was best for my girl and I believed that so much I ignored what was important—her wish that I stop. She didn’t care about the money or the status. She just wanted me.”

He paused to offer a small laugh.

“Gods, I’d give anything for a woman who just wanted me now.”

“What happened to her?”

“She is happily married. Expecting her first child. Strange to watch someone you love move on and assume a life that could have been yours.”

Persephone hoped she would never have to do that.

“I am sorry,” she said, and covered his hand with hers for a moment.

He shrugged.

“I thought I was protecting her,” he paused. “Maybe that’s what Hades thought he was doing for you.”

She had no doubt.

“I wish he would stop. I don’t need protection.”

“Everyone needs protecting,” he said. “Life’s hard.”

Persephone frowned. She’d said something similar to Hades’ once when she’d argued with him about why it was important to forgive mortals. She’d never considered she required the same grace.

After lunch, the day just got worse. Helen was dealing with an influx of angry phone calls and Persephone’s inbox continued to fill with hate mail. She couldn’t escape the judgement, even in her text messages.

I can’t believe you did it! Lexa texted.

She wasn’t sure if that was her best friend expressing her excitement or her frustration.

Have you talked to Sybil? Persephone asked.

No. I am betting she’ll lay low. If she was still Apollo’s oracle, you know she’d be dealing with this mess.

If she was still his oracle, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

Um, girl, I meant YOU. You’re the mess.

I just told the truth. So sue me.

I’m thinking Apollo will resort to more archaic means. Lexa paused and then text, Has Hades said anything yet?

Nope.

There had been no apology, no lecture, and her emotions were all over the place. She had never felt like this before, torn between anger, a desperate wish to be confronted by him, and fear of his disappointment.

When Persephone left the Acropolis, Antoni met her at the doors and walked her through the aggressive crowd. He waited until they were safely in the car to ask, “Are you okay, my lady?”

She wasn’t sure why, but the question made her eyes burn. All of a sudden, she was holding back tears. She would not cry over this—not yet. Apollo wasn’t worth her tears.

She took a deep breath.

“Is he angry?”

She knew she didn’t have to say Hades’ name. Antoni would know who she was talking about.

“I haven’t seen him,” the ogre admitted. “But I can imagine he won’t be happy.”

She knew that, which was why there was no way she was going to the Underworld tonight. She was thankful that the ogre didn’t elaborate or berate her for writing about Apollo. Most of the drive was spent in silence, except for when she asked Antoni to stop so she could grab takeout before heading home.

By the time she made it to the apartment, all she wanted to do was take a hot bath and go to sleep. She bid Antoni goodnight, and headed inside. Lexa had texted her to let her know she would be out with Jaison. Sybil was sitting at the bar working on a resume, but when Persephone walked through the door, left her seat and folded her into her arms.

Persephone dropped her purse and the takeout to the floor and hugged the oracle back.

“I’m sorry,” Persephone said. “I didn’t listen to you.”

“It’s okay,” Sybil said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to tell their stories, I just hate that no one believes you.”

“I know that’s why you told me not to do it,” Persephone said, and she smiled a little as she pulled away to look at Sybil. “Apollo might have taken away your powers, but your instincts are on point.”

She shrugged. “I know how history treats women.”

Sybil picked up Persephone’s purse and the food she’d brought, sitting it on the counter.

“It’s moussaka, if you want some,” Persephone said, nodding to the bag of food. “I also got baklava because…you know…it’s been a hard day.”

Sybil laughed softly. “Of course.”

“I think I’m going to take a bath.”

Sybil nodded. “I’ll be here if you wanna talk.”

“Thanks, Syl.”

Persephone navigated to her bedside table in the dark, familiar with the layout of her room, and turned on the lamp. She stepped into the bathroom, removed her jewelry, and started the bathwater. As it was running, she moved back into her room and began to undress when she noticed something shifting in the corner of her eye. She turned, startled by Hades’ presence in her room.

How had she not felt him?

Because he didn’t want you to, she thought immediately.

“Please continue,” he said, leaning casually against the wall in partial darkness. He looked at home, born of the shadow. His hands were in the pockets of his slacks, and he’d removed his jacket. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up, and the top two buttons undone, exposing his well-muscled forearms and chest.

Her breath caught in her throat. Would she always think of how beautiful he looked every time she saw him?

His burning eyes ran the length of her, and she suddenly remembered she was angry with him for so many things. She pulled her dress back up, and Hades’ offered an unamused laugh.

“Come now, darling. We are beyond that, are we not? I have seen every inch of you—touched every part of you.”

She shivered because no matter how angry she was with him, she couldn’t help the thoughts that surfaced in her mind at his words.

“That doesn’t mean you will tonight,” she said, and Hades scowled. “What are you doing here?”

“You are avoiding me,” he said.

“I’m avoiding you?” she scoffed. “It’s a two-way street, Hades. You’ve been just as absent.”

“I gave you space,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. “Clearly that was a bad idea.”

“You know what you should have given me?” she said. “An apology.”

She headed into the bathroom. Hades wasn’t going to keep her from her bath. Stripping down, she stepped into the water. It was almost too hot, stinging as she submerged herself. Normally, she would stretch out, but she felt oddly subconscious, and drew her knees to her chest.

Hades followed, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, mouth tight.

“I told you I loved you.”

“That’s not an apology.”

“Are you telling me those words mean nothing to you?”

She glared. “Actions, Hades. You weren’t going to tell me about Leuce.”

“If we are going to speak of actions, then let us speak of yours.”

Despite the heat of the water, Persephone suddenly felt chilled.

“Did you not promise me you wouldn’t write about Apollo?”

There was more to her actions—they’d been fueled by Sybil and Leuce and wine—but she couldn’t say that because the results were the same. She had broken her promise.

“I had to do it—”

“Had to?” He interrupted. “Were you offered an ultimatum?”

Yes, I was offered an ultimatum, you idiot!

She didn’t respond and averted her eyes, glaring at the water. If she looked at Hades for too long, she would burst into tears. There was too much emotion building inside her.

“Where you threatened?”

Again, she was silent.

“Did any of it have anything to do with you?”

She hated the way his voice grated against her ears. She stood from her bath, water sloshing everywhere and snatched a towel from the bar, holding it to her chest.

“Sybil is my friend and her life was ruined by Apollo. His behavior had to be exposed.”

Hades tilted his head to the side, his eyes flashing. He uncrossed his arms and stepped toward her. Persephone’s heart raced as he leaned close.

“Do you know what I think?” He whispered furiously. She wanted to take a step away—she didn’t want to face what she’d done. How she’d retaliated against him. “I think this is all a game to you. I pissed you off so you wanted to piss me off, is that it? One for one—now we’re even.”

“Not everything’s about you, Hades.”

His hands clasped her waist, drawing her close. “You promised me you wouldn’t write about Apollo.”

Persephone cringed.

“Is your word worth nothing?”

Those words stung. She swallowed something thick in her throat and glared at him through watery eyes. “Fuck you.”

Hades was ruthless. The bastard smiled.

“I’d rather fuck you, darling, but if I did right now, you wouldn’t walk for a week.”

He snapped his fingers and the world around her shifted. He’d teleported to the Underworld. They were in the suite she used to get ready for the Ascension Ball—it was the suite Hades had built for his future queen. The fact that he’d brought her here and not to his own bedroom spoke volumes.

She pushed away from him. Her towel was the only thing between them.

“Did you just abduct me?”

“Yes,” he answered, already turning his back on her. “Apollo will come after you, and the only way he will have an audience with you, is if I am present.”

“I can take care of this, Hades.”

She didn’t know how, but she would. Demetri had given her two options—apologizing or interviewing a recent victim. Those might be shit options, but maybe the other seven would be willing to talk to her.

Hades shut her down.

“You can’t and you won’t.”

Persephone lifted her chin, glaring at the King of the Dead. She attempted to teleport, but nothing happened. Her rage bubbled under the surface of her skin.

“You can’t keep me here.”

A carpet of vines spread from her feet toward Hades. He offered a dark laugh and the corner of his mouth lifted in an arrogant smirk.

“Darling, you are in my realm. You’re here until I say otherwise.”

“Hades!”

He kept walking and she wanted him to hurt because she really didn’t think he felt anything in this. That was when great, black thorns burst from the tile floor, moving for Hades like venomous snakes.

But the God of the Underworld just waved his hand and the thorns turned to ash.

He’d done it so easily, so quickly.

Which meant all those times she’d used her magic against him, he’d just…let her. The reality of her weakness was harsh in the face of his indifference, and she suddenly felt unsteady on her feet.

As he went to close the door behind him, she called out in a cracked voice, “You will regret this!”

“I already do,” he said, and there was a note to his voice that sounded like grief.