“Now, you will listen to me,” my grandfather continues. “The Demetrious family is not one you go against. The only way to get out of this would be death…for you. They’ve already decided, and once they make a decision, it’s law.”
My body falls back onto the lounge chair. My shoulders sag, and my head lulls forward in defeat. “So, that’s it then? My life is being taken from me? I’m being kidnapped against my will and being forced to marry that…that man.” I can’t think of anything to call him at the moment that would be fitting. “I would rather die,” I cry out.
“Oh, Talia, don’t be dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” I pop my head back up. “Dramatic? You aren’t the one stuck on this island with complete strangers. What about my school? And my friends? What about Alex? My apartment?”
“Your life will be wherever Kostas decides. I’m sorry, Talia. I tried to speak to them, but they made it clear this marriage will happen.”
A gut-wrenching sob tears through my chest. Complete hopelessness converts into tears that rain down my cheeks at lightning speed. If I don’t find a way out, I’m going to be sentenced to a life underground, just like Proserpina. But unlike her—who at least was stuck with Pluto, who in some versions of the story appeared to be a decent husband, despite beginning their marriage in such a horrible way—I’m being taken by Kostas. The man who found dark humor in Proserpina’s rape. The man who tried to argue that she enjoyed it. That the statue screamed passion.
I’m once again overcome with rage as the realization strikes that I have no one I can count on but myself. My own father was the one to hand me over. The rest of my family has their hands tied behind their backs. The only chance I have at getting out of this is me. I need to formulate a plan. And to do that I need to be alone.
When I stand, ready to flee back to my room, Aris says my name.
“Are you okay?” he asks, worry dripping in his words.
“No,” I tell him honestly, “but I will be.”
“I’m really sorry your grandfather wasn’t able to get you out of this mess.” Even though it’s his family who is causing all of this to happen, I feel like, to an extent, he might genuinely mean that.
“It’s not your fault. Thank you for being so kind to me.” I kneel to pick up the pieces of glass, but Aris stops me.
“Someone will clean that up. Would you like to go for a walk? The bay is beautiful at this time.”
“Raincheck?” I ask, even though I don’t plan to be here for him to collect. I don’t care how I have to do it, I will be getting the hell off this island. “I think I need some time to myself.”
“Sure.” His lips curl into a soft smile. “Let me see your phone.”
I hold it closer to my chest. If he takes my phone from me, it will mess up my plan.
“I’m just going to input my number into your contacts in case you need something or someone to talk to.”
Reluctantly, I type in my code then hand my phone over to him. After a few seconds, he hands it back.
“The restaurants serve all day. Just let them know your name and they’ll serve you anything you want.”
“Okay, thank you.”
On my way back to my room, my phone pings with a text, reminding me I don’t want to just change his contact from Dad to Niles, but to block his number altogether.
Dad: I’m so sorry, sunshine. I hope one day you can forgive me. There was just no other way.
And with that text, my anger is back with a vengeance. The second I step into my room, I allow myself to lose it. Picking up the crystal vase from the end table, I imagine it’s my dad’s head as I cock my arm back and throw it as hard as I can. It bounces off the wall and shatters when it hits the wood floor.
Damn, that felt good.
I grab something else—this time, a lamp—and chuck it across the room. It smashes against the wall, fragments raining down and landing on top of the broken crystal.
I take a deep breath. And then I grab the other lamp and throw it.
Item after item, I throw everything I can get my hands on until my arm is dead and there’s nothing left to throw. Until my anger has dissipated enough that I can form a coherent thought.
And then I formulate my plan.
I pull up my airline ticket and call the airline. After my flight is booked, I call Alex.
“Talia, how are you?” Alex asks when he answers the phone. His voice is groggy, and it’s then I remember there’s an eight-hour time difference between Chicago and Greece.
“I’m good. I’m sorry to wake you, but I have great news. My father is letting me come visit you after all. My flight leaves in a few hours.”
“That’s fabulous!” he exclaims, his voice brighter and more awake. “I’ll pick you up at the airport. What time will your flight arrive?”
“It’s a twelve-hour flight, so I should be there at six o’clock your time.”
“Once you find out your gate number, call me so I know where to meet you.”
“I will. I can’t wait to see you.”
After we hang up, I make sure I have everything I need in my purse, and then, leaving my room key on the nightstand, I slip out. I head up the path and find a side exit. I thought about snagging a cab from here, but then they could track me. So instead, my plan is to walk as far as I can go and then hail a cab outside of the hotel.
My plan works. After walking the mile down the long roadway, I sneak behind a guard gate and exit along the back. When I step out of the trees, I’m standing on the sidewalk facing a busy street. Several cabs drive up and down the road, and not even a second after I’ve waved my hand, one pulls to the side.
“Heraklion airport.”
The driver nods once and takes off. Fifty minutes later, I swipe my credit card and exit the cab. I find the airline I’m flying with and check in. Because I don’t have any bags to check, I’m pushed through the line quickly. As I watch the line to go through security move forward, my heart pounds against my ribcage. I’m almost in the clear. Just a few more people and then I’ll be on the other side.
Three more people.
Two.
One.
“Put your belongings in the bin, then step through,” the guard instructs.
“That won’t be necessary,” a cold, menacing voice says. “She won’t be going anywhere.”
Like ice straight to my veins, my body freezes in its place. I don’t have to turn around to know who is standing behind me.
Pluto…and he’s here to drag me back into the Underworld against my will.
Kostas
She left. Just like I knew she fucking would. Grabbed her purse and waltzed right out the door. I have to give her credit. Sneaking away rather than taking a cab from the front entrance of the hotel was clever. Not clever enough, though. I anticipated her move. She’s a Nikolaides after all.
Not for long.
Every person we pass ignores her fuming. Around these parts, they see me and they move the fuck on. Nobody messes with my family. Not locals, not airport workers, not cab drivers, not even goddamn tourists. Everyone sees the blinking neon sign above my head that says: Don’t fuck with me.