I should have left.

  The moment I woke in the underworld, the moment I realized where I was, I should have fought my way out, clawed and bled until I reached the surface.

  But I didn’t.

  Because the truth was, I didn’t want to.

  The realization sent ice through my veins. I hated him. Hades had taken everything from me—my serpents, my power, my sense of control. He had reached into my mind, twisted my past, turned my own nightmares into chains.

  And yet…

  The underworld was quiet.

  No gods to scorn me. No mortals to fear me. No reminders that I had once been something terrifying, something untouchable, only to be reduced to nothing.

  I wasn’t being hunted here.

  I wasn’t dying here.

  I wasn’t alone here.

  That was the most dangerous thought of all.

  Hades never demanded that I stay.

  He didn’t need to.

  I stayed because I chose to. Because every time I thought about leaving, the world outside felt… unbearable.

  And he knew it.

  He watched me with the patience of a spider at the center of its web, waiting, knowing that eventually, I would come to him.

  I told myself I was just resting. That I needed time to think, to recover, before I made my next move.

  But time stretched. Days blurred into nights, and soon, I wasn’t thinking about leaving.

  I was thinking about how much easier this was.

  How much safer.

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  I didn’t realize how much I had stopped fighting until Orion found me.

  I hadn’t seen Orion since that night, since the last time I told myself I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t sure how long it had been—time worked differently here.

  I had grown accustomed to the stillness, the underworld’s quiet hum that felt more like a lullaby than a warning.

  So when Orion stormed into the throne room, his presence was like a blade to the throat.

  I blinked, unsure if he was real or just another figment of my unraveling mind.

  “Medusa,” he said, his voice raw, urgent. “You have to leave.”

  I didn’t move.

  Hades, still seated on his throne, didn’t react to Orion’s presence. He simply watched, waiting.

  Orion’s gaze snapped to Hades, burning with rage. “What have you done to her?”

  A slow smile curled at the edge of Hades’ lips. “Nothing she didn’t choose.”

  Orion’s fists clenched. “You’re lying.”

  Hades leaned forward, resting his chin against his fingers. “Then why hasn’t she left?”

  Silence.

  My stomach twisted, but I couldn’t deny it.

  Orion turned to me, his expression breaking into something raw. “Medusa,” he said softly, stepping toward me. “Come with me. Right now. We’ll fix this.”

  Fix this.

  Like I was broken.

  Like I wasn’t already whole.

  I took a breath, my hands shaking at my sides. “I don’t need to be fixed.”

  Orion froze.

  Something flickered in his gaze—fear. Not for himself. For me.

  Hades stood, his presence effortlessly commanding. “She is free to leave whenever she wishes,” he said, his tone almost bored. “The only thing keeping her here is herself.”

  And the worst part?

  He was right.

  I didn’t leave with Orion.

  I watched as he disappeared into the darkness, his voice still lingering in my mind, his concern wrapping around my ribs like a phantom grip.

  But I stayed.

  And Hades let me.

  That night, I found myself sitting on the edge of his throne room, staring at my hands, at the skin where my serpents should have been, at the empty spaces that used to make me whole.

  Hades stood beside me, his presence constant, unshakable. He didn’t speak at first. He didn’t need to.

  Then, after what felt like hours, he finally broke the silence.

  “You never needed them.”

  I swallowed hard, keeping my gaze fixed on the floor. “You don’t know that.”

  Hades knelt beside me, his golden eyes studying my face. “I know that you were something before them.” His voice was calm, certain. “And you are still something without them.”

  My breath hitched.

  The words should have been comforting, but instead, they felt like chains tightening around my wrists.

  Because if I wasn’t the monster, if I wasn’t the curse, then…

  Who was I?

  I exhaled shakily. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

  Hades reached forward, his fingers tilting my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze.

  His expression was unreadable. But his words? His words burned through my soul.

  “Then let me show you.”

  Hades didn’t demand anything from me that night. He didn’t tell me to kneel, didn’t order me to beg.

  He didn’t need to.

  Because I had already taken the first step toward breaking myself.

  I told myself I would find a way to escape.

  I told myself I would never kneel to him.

  And I told myself I didn’t need him.

  But as the weight of the silence pressed in, as the loneliness crept beneath my skin like poison—

  I wondered if I had already lost.