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“Why the fuck would ye even ask that?” Eros shakes his head at me, unzipping the bag and flashing a rubber-banded wad of euros. “It’s cash. A million euros.”
“O-kay…” Furrowing my brow, I hug my arms to my chest. “That’s nice for you.”
He growls, pushing the bag closer to me. It slides off the trunk and hits the ground.
“Take it and leave,” he bites off. “I’ll drive away. Ye can flag a cab. We can separate, right here, right now. Ye can quit pretending to like Hades.”
“Why are you…” I trail off, clutching at my chest, baffled. “Did Hades tell you to do this?”
He glares at me. “No. I’m just exhausted by the little act that yer putting on. The grateful, subservient captive and the unhinged, insane tyrant? That doesn’t play well to anyone else who has to witness this little charade.” He flicks his fingers, looking disgusted. “Take the money. Go whisper sweet nothings into some other poor sod’s ear.” He spits on the ground. “We’ll all be glad to see the back of ye.”
My gaze darts down to the bag of money. Then I scrunch up my face and look back at Eros.
“Are you mentally ill?” I ask, a little heat behind my words. “Do you not care for your brother at all?”
He slams his hand down on the sedan’s trunk with a metal BANG. It’s loud enough to make me jump, my eyes widening.
“Dinnae ye think that I know what’s best for him? Hm? He likes structure. He likes consistency. We’ve created quite a fair sized empire, big enough for just the three of us. No outsiders need apply.”
I glance at the money again.
Is Eros right?
Would I be doing everyone a favor if I just left now?
“I don’t think so,” I say quietly, answering my own question. “Hades would come after me.”
“A million euros will buy ye quite a head start, Persephone. Ye should take it. And ye should leave. Because nothing good can come of ye staying. Ye have to know that.”
Is he right?
Can I actually picture myself staying with Hades and being content? Do I trust Hades to become a fixture in my life?
I don’t know. And that fact kills me.
Eros turns around, searching the gas station behind him. “Ye’ve got three minutes to decide.”
He marches off to the building, looking grim. And I am left with the bag.
When he returns, I’m sitting in the sedan, my seatbelt already tight across my lap. The black canvas bag sits on my lap.
He opens his door, peering inside. “What are ye doing?”
“I decided that I need more time to think it over.” I shoot him an icy look. “So I will keep the bag. But I want you to drive on, as if this never happened. Then if I disappear in a few days, we will both know exactly what happened.”
He tenses his jaw. “Yer in over yer head, Persephone.”
I push my cheek out with my tongue. “I’ll be the judge of that, Eros.”
He gives his head a tiny shake and climbs in, starting the car. As soon as he pulls out onto the road again, he flips the radio station until it hits a woman wailing in Arabic. He turns it up and doesn’t try to talk to me for hours and hours.
When we finally stop again, Eros pulls our sedan into a lonely roadside motel of sorts. Squat and single storied, the graying building splays out wide, with perhaps four or five rooms in the back and a large front check-in area. It seems noticeably dingier than any place I have been with Hades.
“Is this place even safe?” I ask.
Eros shoots me a hard look. “Depends on what ye mean by safe, doesn’t it? Now, stay here.”
With that, he gets out and hurries into the front of the building. I hold my breath; Eros is using one of the United Kingdom passports that I cobbled together in the last week. I know that my work is good.
