It's boring to see those unwanted faces, especially Jane McAllister. That woman is getting on my very last nerve for dragging me to the drama club which has nothing to do with me.

Lumina Gala, our university celebrates every year for the founding day of this place. And collecting funds from the guests too.

Jane decides to bring our whole class to the drama club to tell us that we should perform a play this year, because it's our last year and the drama is always conducted by the senior year students.

"Romeo and Juliet?" One of the girls announces with pride.

Kill me already. I groan out loud. Some heads turn toward me, Jane too. She raises an eyebrow.

"Have something to tell, Ciana? If you have any ideas, we're here to listen." She crosses her hands on her chest and paces back and forth.

"I do have something to tell. Why Romeo and Juliet? Elaborate, please." I address the girl who just suggested it. I don't even know half of my classmates' names.

"Because it's literacy treasure, a good eternal love story."

"Eternal, my ass." Words slip out before I control my tongue.

"Ciana. Language." Jane states with firmness, her brows knitted.

I smirk at her. "My bad. Though, do you want to perform some same old love story on a stage on a founding day? I don't think that's a good idea. And those kids are just hormonal."

Ezio snickers beside me.

"Ciana," Jane warns me again.

"Don't you think that's hormonal, Professor?" I challenge her.

"That's not what we're discussing and you know that. Don't try to rage bait people."

"I'm stating facts. It's been years since Shakespeare wrote this story. So how about we choose something else other than this usual cliche?"

"But it—" The one who suggested the story speaks, but I cut off her words with a glare.

"My family will be here as guests of honor and you want to bore them with something like this?"

Everyone goes silent after that. For a long minute, no one speaks a single word.

Then Jane clears her throat. "Then you can suggest something, Ciana."

"I don't know." I shrug my shoulders and lean back in my seat. "I wanna go home already." I turn to Ezio.

"Me too." He responds, his face bored.

I sense Jane's glare at me, but I don't give her the satisfaction of looking at her and accepting the glare.

Then they start to discuss different ideas. Some still suggest Romeo and Juliet while giving me side glances.

Another founding family member is in my class. Vinasa Keningston. She always stays silent and never speaks a word. If someone tries to talk to her about something, she just glares at them and they'll scatter.

She looks back at me. I hold her stare for a few more seconds. She narrows her eyes at me before turning away.

I huff. What's her problem?

Time drags for way too long. Ezio already fell asleep on his desk. I keep staring at Jane, fantasizing about how to kill her and make her corpse a masterpiece.

When no play comes to their mind, they start to look back at me.

"Ciana, we can't come up with anything for the drama. Can we just stick to Romeo and Juliet?" One of them pleads.

I tilt my head and stare at her. "Why do you guys have to play the love story? Want to kiss someone so badly at the end of the play?"

Jane lost it this time. "Ciana, if you can't say something nice, you can stay silent."

"Facts, facts, facts! Can't you hear me? Play Buddha's life about how he became equal to a deity or Jesus's story and nail someone on the cross. Always talking about love stories. Gross!"

My classmates' eyes widen as my uncontrolled words slip out again. But Vinasa laughs, very soft, but I catch it.

It's the first time I ever see her laughing.

"If you don't want Romeo and Juliet, then suggest something. If you don't, then we're playing what we discussed." Jane declares with force.

Ezio wakes up with a yawn.

My eyes fix on Jane. "Are you hell bent on disrespecting the founding families? I don't care if it's a literary treasure. If it's disgraceful to our family, you will face the consequences, Ja—" I hold back before I finish her name.

Shit, I should have been out of this room right now. I'll shred her to pieces.

Ezio grabs my hand. "We should leave."

I nod and stand up. Ezio drags me out of the club room. I stop for a second and look back at them over my shoulder.

"Try Hades and Persephone, if you people want to play love stories so badly and yeah, there's a kiss scene at the end." I throw the words at them and let Ezio drag me out.

The cold air hits me as I step out of the club room and the bell rings at the same time.

"Hungry?" He questions me and I give him a nod. He takes me to the cafeteria.

I love Greek mythology, not Zeus—he can go fuck himself.

I love Medusa.

God, that woman deserves the world. If I'd been there, I would've killed Zeus for even thinking about touching her.

She ended up getting the punishment for something she didn't even commit or give consent to. 

That was brutality. Not her fault.

She's my baby girl. I thought about tattooing her on my hand, but when I learned about the meaning, I didn't want to give her that meaning on my body and disgrace her again.

I refuse to give her the symbolism that harmed her and isolated her from the whole world.

Still, I did get a tattoo on my back and it was a badass one. My father almost lost his mind when he found out. I was roaming around the pool in a bikini and my father saw it. 

But Leo was obsessed with it.

Dominam tuam Serva.
Serve your Mistress.

I tattooed it on my lower back, just above my ass. No wonder my father was ready to go nuclear on me. 

That was fun.

The day blurs in a blink of a second. I avoided Gia with my life, didn't want to see her face anymore after she showed her true colors and gave me a reality check that she was no different from her mother.

I used to check on her class because some boys in her class try to mess with her, she's an easy target to bully. Not anymore. She should handle herself from now on and I don't intend to poke my nose into others' problems.

I tug Leo's shirt to look for the scar, but nothing's there. So, I did kiss someone else.

"What?" Leo gives me a questioning look before taking a sip from his coke.

"Nothing." I turn away and look at Ezio. He tilts his head and tries to read my mind. "Tell me, Leo, does love feel that good?"

He stays silent as he keeps sipping his drink.

"Why is everyone bragging about it? I mean, I've seen our parents…your parents. All my mother does is manipulate my father. So, tell me, does that feel good?"

"Who knows and who cares?" He stands up. "I should go to our family estate before coming to Evermist. It'll take some time. Don't wait for me." He grabs his backpack and leaves the cafeteria.

Why is he so distant since he came back from Italy? Did something happen? Or did he argue with my grandpa? No one has the guts to do that.

"What's going on in your head?" Ezio pokes my arm and shoves some noodles into his mouth.

"I kissed someone."

He chokes. "What? What the fuck? Who? Does Leo know?"

I shake my head without a word.

"Who? Wait, when?"

"Neon Nexus at New Year. I thought it was Leo but he wasn't. He was a random man from the club, Ezio." My face creases. "I didn't see his face. But he was…tall, broad…more than Leo."

Leo has a good build but he still has his boyish charm on his body, so I won't call him a man. That person was…when my hand traced up on his body and felt too much, he stiffened under my touch, which Leo never does. Has a masculine body…

Ezio slaps my hand and I snap out of my trance. My hand is in the mid-air.

"Did you just imagine that man from the club now? Leo will kill you, C. Control yourself." He chuckles and shoves another roll of noodles from his fork.

"He has a scar on his neck, Ezio. I can tell it was from a…umm…blade or knife. Because it was a clean line." I close my eyes as I remember those small details. "It was healed but still deep."

"Okay, let that man go out of your head or you'll get him killed by Leo's hands." His phone chimes on the table. He unlocks it and looks at the screen. "C…you're so cooked."

He makes that face that feels like he wants to throw me off a cliff.

I'm regretting every single life choice I've ever made and even my own miserable existence at this point. Why the hell didn't I keep my mouth shut for five damn minutes and let those fools play their ridiculous Romeo and Juliet?

I should have minded my own business, but my mouth was working overtime, running like a broken faucet and bringing this catastrophe down on me.

Fuck my entire life!

Now I'm the one who has to play Persephone in their so-called drama, and Jane is in charge of this whole production, which means I'm trapped. 

For two agonizing hours, everyone hovered over me like vultures, bombarding me with questions about Hades and Persephone and about the other characters involved in this play, as if I'm some walking encyclopedia of Greek mythology.

But Ezio has the time of his life, the bastard. 

After I told them everything in excruciating detail, they started to write the script with frantic energy and decided on the background music and the voice actors and costumes. 

They tried to choose pink because it was a "girlish color," and I wanted to set the entire room on fire. I hate pink with everything I have, with every fiber of my being. And I can't forgive them for trying to put something like that on Persephone, like she's some vapid Disney princess.

Persephone is the purest form of a woman, so she should be draped in white, and I hate that suggestion too because I have to wear it and I despise white or any bright colors with a burning passion.

But a white dress would work for this play, I have to admit that much. Something stark, pure and innocent—the kind of ethereal vibe Persephone possesses before Hades drags her into his dark, twisted world and claims her as his own. 

Yeah, that's the aesthetic I'm aiming for, the transformation from light to darkness.

But knowing these morons, they'll mess it up spectacularly. I spoon-fed them the character references and explained everything about them in painstaking detail, right down to the symbolism and the deeper meanings. 

They wouldn't recognize a Greek myth if it manifested in front of them and slapped them across the face unless it's from that mediocre Wrath of the Titans movie.

Bunch of uncultured clowns.

But I accepted my fate for the sake of Persephone and her story.

Sometimes I feel like I want a man like Hades in my life. Even though he faced so many problems and opposition, he never let her go, never released his claim on her.

So, that's how love feels like? But Hades was obsessed with Persephone, I'm convinced of that. It was toxic and possessive and wrong, but I liked it, craved it even.

When Jane sent the cast list for this play in the group chat, I expected someone more masculine and commanding for Hades' role, someone who could actually embody the King of the Underworld. 

But I never thought in my worst nightmares that it would become that bastard Noah. He's an absolute asshole with no redeeming qualities. That smug look plastered on his face and the way he acts like he's entitled to everything in this world, it makes me want to snap his neck into two clean pieces.

"Late again." I cross my arms over my chest. "What happened? Trip over your ego on the way here?"

"Missed me, Persephone?" He grins, that slow, infuriating smirk spreading across his face that makes me regret every life choice leading up to this cursed moment.

"Call me that again, and you'll be missing teeth. I'll knock them down your throat."

"Easy, Persephone," he drawls with that insufferable tone, leaning against the edge of the stage. "You're supposed to like me in this play, remember? Or did you already forget your dialogues?"

My hands clench into fists at my sides, itching desperately to hurl something—preferably sharp—at his smug head. "I didn't forget a damn thing. I just don't see why I have to rehearse them with you of all people."

"Because I'm the best Hades you've got," he declares, his tone cocky as hell, dripping with arrogance. "Unless you'd rather pair up with Ezio?"

"Don't tempt me with a good time," I snap, narrowing my eyes at him. "At least Ezio doesn't strut around like he's Zeus incarnated."

Noah chuckles, the sound grating on my last nerve. "Zeus? Ouch. I thought I had more of a Poseidon vibe going on."

"Keep telling yourself that delusion," I shoot back. "You're more like Hermes. Always running your mouth and annoying the absolute shit out of everyone within earshot."

He laughs outright at that, the sound echoing through the auditorium. "You've got fire, I'll give you that much. But you're not fooling anyone, Ciana. I see right through that icy act of yours, that cold exterior you put up."

I step closer. "You don't know shit about me, Noah. Not a single thing."

"Oh, but I do," he counters, matching my energy. He steps into my space without invitation, close enough that I can smell the faint scent of leather and cedar clinging to him. "I know you're dying to get this over with, to escape this whole situation. But here's the thing. On this stage, you're mine. And I'm not letting you half-ass it."

My jaw tightens as his words sink in, burrowing under my skin. He's closer than I want him to be, invading my personal space.

"Back off."

"Make me," he challenges, a devilish grin curving his lips upward.

Before I can respond with violence, Ezio's voice cuts through the suffocating tension. "Alright, lovebirds, save it for the stage. Some of us are trying to survive this torture without puking."

I spin around, glaring at Ezio with murderous intent. He's lounging in the audience seats with a bag of popcorn. "You're not even wanted here, asshole."

He pops a kernel into his mouth with exaggerated slowness. "I'm here because this is way more entertaining than whatever shitty play we're supposed to be rehearsing. This is gold."

I groan, turning back to Noah, who looks entirely too pleased with himself. "Let's just get this over with," I mutter through gritted teeth, stepping away from him and into position.

"As you wish, Persephone," he responds, his tone dripping with mockery and amusement.

We're rehearsing the final scene, and Noah's all up in my space like some dark, brooding Zeus wannabe who thinks he's irresistible. His arm snakes around my waist without permission, pulling me closer against him. 

My blood is boiling, bubbling under my skin, and I can hear Ezio giggling like a hyena from the front row.

And then Noah leans in with that predatory look. His face hovers inches from mine, his eyes holding that irritating mix of mischief and challenge, as if he's daring me not to lose my shit and snap.

And that's the moment I snap.

Before he can get any closer to my face, I grab his wrist with force, twist it with precision, and pin his arm behind his back. Hard. His face contorts with shock and a sharp twinge of pain as I press his arm higher, threatening to dislocate it.

The gasps echo through the auditorium, followed by a chorus of shocked "Hey!" and "What the hell?" from our classmates watching this unfold.

Jane bolts up from her seat. "Ciana! Let him go right now!"

But the only person who isn't freaking out is my lovely, dear cousin. He's doubled over in his seat, laughing like a complete lunatic, popcorn flying everywhere as he claps like this is the best show he's ever witnessed in his life.

Jane storms onto the stage with fury, her face red with a volatile mix of anger and panic. She wedges herself between us, forcing my hand off Noah before I make good on my unspoken promise to break it. "This is a rehearsal, not a wrestling match!" she barks, glaring at me with accusation. "Ciana, you can't just—"

"I can and I will if he ever tries pulling that shit again," I interrupt.

Jane's eyes narrow into slits, and she takes a deep breath, fighting to stop herself from throttling me. "This is a play, Ciana. It's called acting. If you can't handle that basic concept, then—"

"I can handle it," I snap, cutting her off again. "What I can't handle is him acting like a cocky little shit and thinking he can get away with anything he wants."

Noah chuckles, stepping closer again with that death wish energy, and for a split second, I swear this man is actively trying to get himself killed. "Admit it," he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear. "You're scared you might enjoy it."

I lunge toward him, ready to knock that smirk off his face permanently, but Jane grabs my arm, holding me back like I'm some kind of wild animal they need to cage. "Enough!" she shouts.

"Remove the kissing part from the script, or I'm out of this play." The audacity of these people thinking I'd be okay with locking lips with this moron for a goddamn student production.

Just as I'm about to start throwing chairs and causing real damage, Professor Adrian strolls into the auditorium with that calm, measured gait.

"What's going on here?" he questions Mrs. Jane, his voice carrying that irritating calm authority that makes me want to scream. 

She gives him the full rundown, her tone apologetic, like this is all somehow my fault alone.

He looks at me then, those piercing eyes of his meeting mine. I hold his stare without flinching, daring him to utter something stupid.

He turns to Noah, the unfortunate moron playing Hades.

"You know," Adrian begins, "the kiss doesn't have to be real. You can imitate it convincingly."

"That won't look real on stage," Noah pipes up, his voice tinged with self-importance.

My anger snaps like a damn rubber band stretched too far. "You just want to kiss me and fucking get on my nerves, don't you?" My hands twitching for the dagger I left at home.

"Language, Ciana," Adrian warns me.

If he knew how close he was to meeting the wrong end of my sword, he wouldn't be standing there with that condescending expression. But for now, I look away, biting back every colorful insult sitting on the tip of my tongue.

Adrian continues with patience. "I'll demonstrate how to imitate a kiss so it looks convincing on stage. All I require is that you both cooperate."

Cooperate? With him? Not in this lifetime or the next.

He gestures for Jane to step closer, intending to use her for his stupid little demonstration.

But before she can move a muscle, I take a deliberate step back, my glare fixed on her. "I'm not gay, and no woman is going to touch me."

The tension in the room is so thick you could slice it open with a knife and watch it bleed, but no one moves.

Jane stands frozen, mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to process my words. I couldn't give two shits about her reaction. If they didn't want to deal with me like this, they should have never cast me in the first place.

"Ciana Moretti, we're not here to cater to your theatrics. This is just a drama. If you can't handle the requirements, I suggest you reconsider your participation."

“Maybe you should reconsider your expectations, or better yet, find someone else to play Persephone. Because I'm not your damn puppet to do whatever you want with me."

Noah mutters something under his breath—another one of his idiotic comments about my attitude—but I don't spare him a glance.

"Fine," Adrian grumbles. He steps down from the stage, the sound of his polished shoes clicking on the hardwood floor echoing through the space. "Let's settle this once and for all."

Before I can throw another insult his way, he turns to Jane and gestures for her to sit down. Then he walks toward me with purpose.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Demonstrating," he answers with simplicity, stopping just a few feet away. "Let me show you and Noah how to fake a kiss convincingly."

"You've lost it," I spit, disgusted by his calm demeanor in this insane situation.

"Maybe, but I'm also right."

His hand lands near my waist without making an actual contact, hovering in the air. I fight the overwhelming urge to slap it away, but I hold my ground stubbornly.

"Hand on my neck," he instructs.

"What?" I demand, incredulous.

"Your right hand on my left neck. It's the end of the play, so the kiss has to appear mutual. Go on."

I roll my eyes with exasperation, but I do as he instructs, placing my hand on the side of his neck. His skin is warm under my fingertips, radiating heat, and I feel something shift beneath my touch—something raised under my fingers.

Fucking hell.

My fingers twitch involuntarily, and I pull it away, my gaze instinctively zeroing in on the place beneath my fingers. A scar on his skin immediately catches my eyes, a clean line that looks disturbingly familiar.

My heart slams violently against my ribs like it's trying to escape. I swallow hard. My eyes snaps up and lock with his, and for the first time since I've known him.

He leans in, his face hovering inches from mine, close enough that I can count his eyelashes. His eyes are locked onto mine but those eyes hold nothing tangible. Just empty. No emotions at all. 

I’m just staring into a void.

Then he tilts his head just enough to make it look like our lips are about to meet, creating the perfect illusion. But they don't touch and he maintains a professional distance. He shifts his body ever so slightly, creating the illusion of intimacy without ever crossing the line or making contact.

"There," he declares after a suspended beat. "Convincing enough for you?"

I hold my breath and keep my eyes fixed on him for several stretched seconds, silence pressing down on my tongue until it aches. 

My hands drop to my sides while a tremor creeps into my fingers, forcing me to curl them into my skirts with crushing force until my nails bite through the fabric and dig into my palms, grounding me through pain because everything else feels seconds away from unraveling.

He doesn’t acknowledge my stare at all and simply pivots, his attention sliding away from me with ease as he faces Noah instead. “Did you see how to do it?”

I retreat a step and turn my face away, my vision blurring at the edges as the room feels too close, too aware of me.

“Missed it.” Noah’s voice reaches me in fragments, barely registering past the roar in my head.

I need to go.
I need to get out.
I need to get out of this place.

“Noah,” Adrian’s voice snaps me from the chaos in my mind, dragging me back into my body.

My chest rises in sharp, uneven pulls as my gaze shifts to Ezio, whose eyes narrow on me, suspicion settling in the moment he clocks that something is wrong with me.

His body lifting from his seat before I move again, my backward step stopping him halts where he stands.

My throat tightens and the chill against my skin makes me aware of the heat pouring off me, sweat clinging on my skin.

Fuck.
Fuck!

“I need to go.” The words scrape out of my throat as I turn and rush for the exit, fleeing without a glance back, without stopping, without giving myself the chance to hesitate.