Chapter 16—Persephone

No, no, no.

No, God, no. This can’t be happening.

I didn’t get this far only to get caught.

I run as fast as I can, but a quick look behind me confirms my fear that Lukiyan is faster and he’s going to catch me.

I know it like I know my own name, but I still keep running down the ship’s corridor, hoping and praying I can escape him.

I don’t even know where I’m going. I just know I can’t go back.

Not back to the prison that awaits me with Antonio, and Father, who hates me.

I have to keep moving forward.

Tonight was planned so carefully, and Maya did so much for me. She risked her neck and everything to help me. I can’t give up.

“Persephone, stop!” His voice carries down the corridor, sounding all around me, inside and out. Then his powerful arms wrap around my middle, catching me mid-flight.

“Let go of me. Fucking let me go!” I cry. “Let me go.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Let me go, Lukiyan.”

“No. Of course I’m not fucking letting you go.”

“Please, please let me go.” I’ve resorted to begging, hoping against hope that he still might let me go because he must know what’s happening here and why.

My pleas, however, fall on deaf ears because all he does is flip me over his shoulder as if I’m weightless and carries me off the ship that was supposed to sail me to freedom.

As if things aren’t bad enough, the sky cracks open and rain pours down on us. That doesn’t stop me from beating my fists against his back and flapping my legs.

“Fucking stop it, or I’ll hand-deliver you to your father just like this.”

The threat makes me freeze, and I think of the host of problems I now have. I tried to escape and Lukiyan caught me. Why would he understand what I tried to do and help me when he works for my father? I’m just a piece of ass to him, and he doesn’t answer to me.

He’s barely a week into a good job that pays well. So of course he’s not going to help me because his allegiance is to my father.

I break all over again and crumple against his shoulder.

I’m carried to a black Merc, where he sets me in the back with my duffle bag and gets in the front with a heavy scowl on his face.

“Sit tight and be fucking quiet,” he orders.

I flinch, succumbing to the misery that awaits me.

Half an hour later, we pull up at the house I never thought I was going to see again, and he escorts me to my room.

I’d made the bed earlier and packed my things away in the wardrobe, half hoping Father would leave it like he did with Athena’s room.

Now I’m back, and no one knows yet that I tried to escape.

I almost did it. I would have until this bastard caught me.

“Sit down.” He points to the bed.

“No, you bastard. You know what they’re going to do to me.”

“That is not my fucking concern. I’m just doing my job.”

I don’t know where the bravery comes from, but I lift my hand and slap him across his face.

I’m sick of feeling used and abused, and I can’t take it from him.

My action, however, was a big mistake.

He grabs me, moves to the bed, and flips me over his knee like I’m a petulant child. Then he lands a heavy hand on my ass.

I cry out from the shock and the pain, which gets worse when he pulls my pants down and spanks my bare ass.

“You don’t fucking know what you’re doing,” he shouts.

Slap, slap, slap.

Tears run down my cheeks, and I wish he would stop.

“You’re hurting me.”

“What do you think would happen to you if the wrong kind of people got to you and decided to make an example of you?” Two more slaps are delivered to my ass, which now stings like hell. “You’re Persephone Vittorio. The wrong kind of person would figure out who you are and kill you.”

Another slap, and I scream, but then I feel his cock pushing into my belly and I realized the asshole is getting off on this.

And… fuck me, knowing he’s aroused is making me wet.

One more slap, and the sound that comes out of me is an unmistakable moan.

On hearing it, he rests his hand gently on my ass and strokes the burning there. It’s only for a moment, though, but it’s effective and a juxtaposition to the cruelty he just showed me. The next second sees him breaking the brief spell and lifting me off his lap.

Quickly, I fix my clothes, then my eyes drop to the noticeable bulge pressing against his pants, and I flick my gaze up to his intense eyes as he glares at me.

“Where the hell were you going?” He balls his hands into tight fists.

“Fuck you. The time for questions is over. You had your chance to get to know me, and you didn’t take it.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll bear that in mind.” He turns and heads to the door.

Panic assails me and I rush after him, catching his arm before he can leave.

“Please don’t tell my father. Please. I’ll be locked away until the wedding.” My soul aches just for hearing that word—wedding—come out of my mouth.

“What you did was dangerous.”

“I can’t marry Antonio, Lukiyan.” The bravado I showed him seconds ago fades and I fall apart. “I can’t do it. He’ll destroy me. You know that. Look what happened yesterday. Look how he beat me. He threatened to break my legs so I’d never dance again. I can’t marry him. That’s why I did what I did.”

Understanding forms in his eyes. Again, I think he might be seeing things my way, but I’m mistaken when he pulls his arm away from me.

“Get changed and go to bed. Don’t have any more smart ideas. I’m going to watch you until your father gets back.”

God, this is a nightmare.

I stare back at him in dismay as he turns away and walks out the door.

Hours have passed and nothing has happened.

I cleaned up and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. It was the first thing I could find. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, so I didn’t bother putting on any nightclothes.

Lukiyan hasn’t been back to see me, and since I’m on this side of the house, I can never tell when people arrive on the property.

Father could be here now, getting the 411 on my latest activities, and I’ll be none the wiser until he summons me to his office.

All I’m concerned with now is that I don’t get Maya in trouble. We planned my escape to happen during this fundraiser because it would look like I just escaped on a boat.

When Lukiyan tells Father what really happened, he’ll know someone helped me.

Lukiyan also has my duffle bag with all the documents. Fake ID’s and a fake passport scream of someone helping me.

So, I don’t know how I’m even going to start explaining that. Not to mention that trying to escape a marriage contract is the same as high treason. They might not kill me, but the punishment will be comparable to death.

I’m going crazy just waiting here.

It’s after midnight already, so I’m not sure what’s happening.

Maybe Lukiyan decided to go to bed. Maybe Father isn’t even here and he decided to stay at the hotel with Alecia, or someone else.

I remember when they first got married, she tried to get rid of my mother’s things, and Father lost his shit.

Alecia didn’t just want to be the replacement; she wanted to be the one. The woman Father loved more than Mom.

Even if I didn’t know he doesn’t love her, I knew he would never love her as much as my mother.

I have my own trouble, but the thought of Father cheating on Alecia’s pompous ass makes me smile to myself. If I’m smiling with the situation I’m in, it must mean I’ve finally lost my mind.

It’s just that I know she’ll take pleasure in my demise when I get punished.

What is going on, though?

I have to find out.

I slip off the bed and make my way out of my room into the dark corridor. The lights don’t pop on like they usually do, but I have the moonlight to guide me.

I proceed down the long winding corridor, looking for Lukiyan, feeling silly with every step I take.

Clearly, he’s gone back to the cottage.

But what if he hasn’t? I need to check and be sure.

I head down the first set of stairs, and as I turn onto the next corridor, the faint sound of his deep baritone washes over me.

He’s talking to someone.

Is it Father?

If it is, then I am very foolish indeed, and all I’m doing is accelerating the time to receive my punishment.

Lukiyan continues talking, but whoever he’s talking to doesn’t answer, which makes me believe he’s on the phone.

It sounds like he could be in the hall where the sculptures are, so I head there.

Stealthily, I take my steps lightly, slipping through the door, which is a jar.

He’s at the end of the hall, near the Rococo curtains. He has the phone pressed against his ear.

I get closer and hide behind the sculpture of Venus so I can listen to what he’s saying.

“I just need this to be over with.” He sighs with exasperation, bringing a hand to his head. “I know. I know, and yes, I’m grateful to work for a man like Lucca Dyshekov, or I’d be fucking screwed.”

What is he talking about?

Wait… I know the name he mentioned—Lucca Dyshekov.

Where did I hear it, though?

I think about it, picking my brain apart as I search.

The name is Russian.

The instant I think that, my memory clicks and I remember something from years ago when Mom was alive. She was talking to Father, and he mentioned that name. I remember.

He said Lucca was the new Pakhan of the Yurkov—as in the Bratva—and therefore an enemy to us.

What the hell is going on?

Lukiyan just said he works for Lucca Dyshekov, but he’s supposed to be working for my father.

Unless he’s not.

He is half Russian so it could fit and possibly make sense. Does it though?

He just said he works for Lucca Dyshekov. I actually heard him say those words, so there’s no guesswork here. It follows then that Lukiyan is working for the Bratva.

“I need everything to go to plan,” he continues. “Then I’ll kill Emilio for what he did and get the fuck out of here.”

I gasp, sucking in a sharp breath, and mindlessly step backward, not even thinking about what I’m doing or where I’m going.

Jesus, Lukiyan just said he’s going to kill my father.

I heard that, right?

I didn’t make it up or fall asleep and have one of my paranormal experiences.

He did say it as clearly as he said he was working for Lucca Dyshekov.

So, I did hear him perfectly right.

I back right into a vase and it falls to the ground, smashing before I can even catch it to steady it.

The sound pierces the blanket of privacy, and he snaps his head around to look at me.

We stare at each other, and an eerie silence fills the space between us.

It’s not quiet and reverent like the awe people usually tend to show when they come into this room because it’s filled with original antiquities and pieces of wondrous creation. The silence is filled with tension and terror. The kind of deathly silence a person would experience when they know they’re going to be killed.

As Lukiyan stares back at me across the distance, I know he knows I heard what he said on the phone.

He has something on me, and I have something on him.

Except the something I have on him is far darker and more twisted and we’re all in danger because he’s not who he says he is.

“Persephone—”

I run.

Run away from him again for the second time in the last four hours.

This time I’m running for my life as he follows, chasing me.

Knowing how fast he is pumps more blood into my body, but knowing he could kill me pushes me beyond my limit.

I take the door to the left, going out the side entrance which will lead me to the woods.

The stairs are dark, and again, the lights don’t pop on.

I don’t let that stop me, though. Hearing the heavy thud of his boots behind me keeps me going, keeps me trying, keeps me fighting for my life.

But then I trip over something when I reach the landing on the next floor, and I fall.

I look back only to see what I tripped over, and my heart stops when the moonlight shines down on Maya’s face, her eyes wide and dead.

Blood covers her chest. Jesus, there’s so much of it.

A tremor takes me unlike any other, and I rush to her side, gathering her up in my arms.

“Maya,” I choke, tears instantly flowing from my eyes when I feel how cold she is.

Her head flops back, and her eyes are still wide and dead. I know she’s gone, but I don’t want her to be.

She’s dead. Maya is dead.

“Maya.”

Gunfire answers me, and I realize what’s happening. The house is under attack. Just like before.

A gamut of emotions cripple me, but my instinct for survival kicks in and I stand. Just then, a large hand grabs me.

I turn to see Lukiyan, but he catches my throat and presses in the center.

“Mne zhal,'” he says.

I know it’s Russian, but of course, I don’t know what it means.

My vision blurs when he presses into my skin again, then darkness swallows everything.

I am your Hades.

Those words are the last thing on my mind as I realize what he was trying to tell me.

He is death.