chapter 6

Behind the Mask

The days since the massacre felt like an endless blur. Time seemed to stretch and compress in strange ways, and nothing felt real. I could still hear the gunshots, still see the bloodstained floor of the gala, and most of all, I could still feel the crushing weight of my parents' death, pressing down on my chest like a never-ending nightmare.

I hadn't slept properly since that night. The dreams that came when I closed my eyes were twisted, filled with images of their faces—my mother's warm smile, my father's protective gaze—before everything turned to chaos. The loss was unbearable, and I wasn't sure how to handle it.

I walked around the safe house in a daze, trying to make sense of everything. The world I knew—the world I'd been a part of—was shattered. And I was left to pick up the pieces, even though I didn't know how.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. It had been days since we'd left the gala, days since I'd seen any semblance of normalcy. Julian had been keeping his distance, giving me space, but I could feel the weight of his concern every time he looked at me. Darius, too, seemed to be observing me, but he never said anything. Maybe he knew that words wouldn't help.

Maximus, though... he was always there. Watching from the shadows. Observing from a distance, his cold eyes never leaving me. I had seen him a few times in passing, but I always avoided his gaze. Something about him unsettled me, and I couldn't explain why. He wasn't like the men I knew. There was a darkness around him, a power that radiated from him like a storm waiting to break.

But I didn't care about that. I didn't care about anything except the ache in my heart. The emptiness that had consumed me ever since I lost my parents.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, and I immediately stiffened. I wasn't in the mood for company, especially not his.

The door creaked open, and there he was—Maximus Grayson. His tall frame filled the doorway, his dark gaze scanning the room before locking onto me.

"Persephone," he said, his voice calm, almost too calm. There was an edge to it, a quiet intensity that made me uncomfortable.

I didn't answer him. I couldn't.

Maximus stepped inside, his boots clicking against the floor with each step. I could feel the air shift with his presence. He had this way of moving—like he owned the room, like he could take control of everything around him without even trying.

He stopped in front of me, his eyes studying me carefully. "You're not eating," he observed.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. The food he was referring to sat untouched on the table next to me, a reminder of how little I cared about anything right now.

Maximus crouched in front of me, bringing himself to my eye level. He didn't touch me, but his proximity made my heart race. I could feel the tension building between us, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

"Grieving won't bring them back," he said softly, his voice almost… gentle.

I flinched at the words. It was true, but it felt like a slap to the face. The pain was so raw, so fresh, that hearing him speak so coldly about it only made me want to scream.

"Don't tell me how to grieve," I snapped, my voice breaking. The floodgates opened, and the tears I had been holding back started to fall. I couldn't stop them. I didn't want to stop them.

Maximus didn't move. He didn't look away. He simply watched me as I cried. His face remained unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something I couldn't name. A flicker of something… almost like understanding. But I wasn't ready to understand him, not yet.

"Why are you even here?" I asked, wiping my tears angrily. "What do you want from me?"

He remained silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice low and steady. "I'm here because you need protection, Persephone. You're not safe. Not yet."

I shook my head, letting out a bitter laugh. "I don't need your protection. I don't need anyone. My parents are dead because of people I trusted, people I thought were on our side. Everyone is a threat. Even you."

Maximus's eyes darkened, and for the first time, I saw a glimpse of something dangerous in them. But it wasn't directed at me—it was something else, something deeper, like he was angry at the world itself. At the people who had taken everything from me.

"I don't trust anyone," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Not after what happened. Not after they…" I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence. The truth was too painful, too raw.

Maximus leaned in slightly, his face inches from mine. His eyes never left me, and I could feel the heat radiating off him.

"You will learn to trust me," he said, his tone flat but commanding. "I'm not here to hurt you, Persephone. I'm here to keep you alive. And I will do whatever it takes."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know if I should be afraid of him, or if I should trust him, or if I should keep running from him, like I had been running from everything else.

But one thing was clear: I wasn't in control anymore. And neither was he.

We were both trapped in a game neither of us fully understood.

But it was a game we would have to play if we wanted to survive.

End of Chapter 6