CH 3 - Persefone
1549 Words
PERSEFONE POV
By the time I stepped out of school, the sun had already dipped below the horizon.
At least almost no one would see me at my lowest. Of the week. Hopefully.
It was only Monday, after all.
The corridors had emptied out, lockers shut, lights buzzing faintly overhead.
The only other person in the building was Arnold.
The janitor.
And he was looking at me with a scowl.
“I’ve just mopped here,” he grumbled. “Do not leave your footsteps on my floor.”
I mock-saluted him and tried to walk with soft, exaggerated steps that probably looked more like a baby giraffe on the verge of a stroke.
He didn’t look impressed.
It was almost a tradition for me.
At least once a month, I ended up like this.
Detention. Lecture pending. Life choices questionable.
But tonight—
something felt off.Eden stirred in the back of my mind—not restless exactly… just alert.
Listening.
Watching.
'What’s up, pretty girl?' I asked.
No answer.
As usual.
My wolf was incredibly skilled at talking only when absolutely not needed. Even more when I was vulnerable and she could take over my body and act like an unhinged beast.
Great partnership.
I exhaled slowly.
Paranoia.
Lack of sleep.
Too many nights staring at screens and digging into things I probably shouldn’t.
That’s all it was.
It had to be.
The parking lot was almost empty when I pushed the doors open.
A few scattered cars in the professors’ reserved spots. All the students were long gone.
Good.
I tightened my grip on my keys as I headed toward my car.
My Camaro sat where I’d left it, black paint swallowing what little light was left.
I slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind me, the sound louder than it should’ve been in the quiet.
For a second, I just sat there.
Hands on the wheel.
Breathing.
Bracing myself for what was waiting at home.
Then—
something moved.
At the edge of my vision.
Near the bushes lining the far side of the lot.
I stilled.
Slowly turned my head—
And there it was.
A pair of glowing eyes.
Watching me.
Unblinking.
A wolf.
With red eyes.
Unusual.
My pulse kicked up, and Eden finally pushed forward, taking the front of my mind, sniffing the air, searching for a scent.
We inhaled deeply.
Nothing.
No scent.
No presence.
Just—
nothing.
I blinked—
And they were gone.
Nothing there.
Just darkness.
Just shadows shifting in the wind.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Yeah,” I muttered, starting the engine. “Definitely need sleep.”
The car roared to life beneath me, grounding in a way nothing else had all day.
I turned the music up louder than necessary, letting the bass fill the silence, drown out the unease crawling at the back of my mind.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, I’d almost convinced myself it had all been in my head.
Almost.
-----------
My room door was slightly ajar. Just as expected.
I didn’t even need to step inside to know who was on my bed.
“Close the door, Persefone.”
Daddy Dalton in all his nerdy glory.
Sitting on my bed like I was twelve and mom had discovered the microphones I'd hidden in her office.
Which, technically, happened twice. I just got smarter with time and she hadn't found the third batch yet.
I sighed, pushing the door shut behind me before leaning back against it.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re here to praise my academic dedication.”
His expression didn’t change.
Didn’t even twitch.
“Sit.”
Yeah.
This wasn’t going to be fun.
I dropped my bag onto the chair and sat at the edge of my desk instead, arms crossed loosely as I waited for it.
The lecture.
The disappointment.
The I expected better from you.
“You hacked again. Thirty-six hours straight.”
Not a question.
Of course not. He probably had spywares running in the background of any tech device in a mile radius.
I tilted my head slightly.
“Define hacked.”
“Persefone.” he chatisized in his daddy voice. Damn. I hated this. He knew what I was doing and why.
Plus he was just like me since kindergarten so it wasn't like he didn't know how it feels to be that close to find a crucial piece of a gigantic puzzle and unleash hellhounds on bad people.
Still. He was the dad. And I was the scolded daughter. Goddess I wished it was papa Derrick doing these kinds of pep-talks. He was easier to handle.
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair.
“Yeah. I did.” There was no point tiptoeing around it.
“You’re underage,” he said finally. “You’re not trained enough to deal with what’s out there. And you’re digging into things that—”
“Need to be looked into,” I cut in.
His jaw tightened.
There it was.
“Two years,” I continued, pushing off the desk now, pacing once before stopping in front of him. “Two years of disappearances, and no one’s doing anything. Files vanish. Reports get buried. And you want me to just—what? Wait to be eighteen? I'm turning in the big number in two days, will I be allowed then?”
“I want you alive.” he whispered with pleading eyes. So green, so pleading. Gosh.
“I was close,” I muttered. “I found a thread. A group. Something that actually—”
“And now you’re done.”
My head snapped back toward him.
“What?”
“Two weeks,” he said calmly. “No laptop. No access. No ‘investigations.’ You focus on school. On training. On things that won’t get you jailed or killed.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides.
Two weeks.
Two.
Weeks.
I’d been this close.
Close enough to taste it.
To feel something real under all the fake leads and dead ends.
And now—
Nothing.
Grounded.
Like a normal teenager who’d missed curfew.
Life sucked.
“Got it,” I said flatly.
“Perse—”
“I said I got it.”
I grabbed my bag, dropping it onto the floor harder than necessary as I moved past him.
“Sorry,” I added over my shoulder.
Didn’t mean it.
Not even a little.
There was only one thing that could fix this.
One thing that didn’t feel like everything was slipping out of my hands.
My roses.
-----
Ermes, the head gardener—and one of the very few people who actually got me—was already there, crouched near the back corner of the greenhouse.
Of course he was.
He always knew where to find me.
Or maybe I always ended up where he was.
Hard to tell at this point.
“You’re late,” he said without looking up, fingers carefully adjusting one of the support wires.
“I was detained,” I shot back, pushing the door open and stepping inside. “Against my will. Very traumatic.”
A low chuckle slipped out of him.
“Mm. I’m sure you suffered greatly.”
I dropped my bag near the bench and moved straight to the far end, where the rest of the plants gave way to something… less conventional.
My corner.
Our experiment.
The roses had changed.
Not fully—yet—but enough that anyone with half a brain would know they weren’t normal.
The petals were darker now, not just red but deep, like something alive pulsed underneath. Thin veins traced through them, subtle but there, catching the low light when I tilted my head just right.
I crouched beside them, brushing my fingers lightly over one of the buds.
“See?” I muttered under my breath. “You’re not completely useless.”
“They respond to you,” Ermes said quietly from behind me.
I didn’t turn.
“They respond to progress,” I corrected. “And stubbornness.”
“And obsession.”
I huffed.
“Same thing.”
He moved closer, slow, unthreatening, like he always did when I got too deep into my own head.
“Any changes?” I asked, finally glancing up at him.
His expression was calm, thoughtful, but there was something behind it—something I couldn’t quite place.
“Growth is accelerating,” he said. “Faster than expected.”
“Good,” I murmured, eyes dropping back to the plant. “That means the binding is holding.”
Dragon’s blood resin wasn’t exactly meant to mix with anything this delicate.
Which was exactly why I’d tried.
Most people saw roses and thought fragile.
Predictable.
Easy.
They’d never met the right kind.
“Careful,” Ermes added softly. “Some things don’t like being forced to become something else.”
I stilled for a second.
Then I couldn't stop the snort even if I tred.
“Everything becomes something else eventually.”
His gaze lingered on me a moment longer than necessary.
“Not always by choice.”
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