CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

HADES

The door closed behind them, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the apartment was quiet. Not the suffocating silence of home, filled with tension and unspoken anger, but the kind of quiet that felt… peaceful.

I turned to my mom. She was standing in the middle of the living room, her small frame looking even smaller amidst the new furniture. She ran her fingers over the edge of the couch like she couldn’t believe it was real.

“Mom,” I said gently, stepping closer.

She looked up at me, her eyes glassy but filled with something I hadn’t seen in years—hope. “Hades, this is… this is too much. They’ve done so much. That girl…” Her voice broke, and she shook her head. “That girl and her father—what kind of people just give so much without expecting anything in return?”

I didn’t have an answer. “Good people,” I said simply. “People we’re not used to.”

Her lips trembled as she sank onto the couch. “Do you think it’s okay for us to stay here? Do we deserve this?”

“Mom,” I said firmly, crouching in front of her. “We’ve been through enough. You’ve been through enough. If someone’s willing to give us a shot at a better life, we’re taking it.”

She nodded, her fingers brushing over a throw pillow like it was made of gold. I stood and moved to the kitchen, opening the fridge that was now stocked with food I hadn’t seen in ages—fresh vegetables, fruit, even milk. My chest tightened. This wasn’t just a place to stay. This was stability, something I never thought I’d have.

I leaned against the counter, taking a moment to process everything. Lara’s face kept flashing in my mind—her determination, the way she kissed me before leaving. She wasn’t just kind; she was relentless, stubborn in a way I’d never experienced.

My mom’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Hades?”

I turned to her. She was standing by the window, looking out at the street below. “That girl… she’s something special, isn’t she?”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “She is.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then I moved to the window and looked out with her. The streetlights cast a faint glow over the block, and for the first time, this place didn’t feel like a trap. It felt like freedom.

“Get some rest, Mom,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll figure things out from here.”

She nodded and gave me a small smile, one that almost broke me because I hadn’t seen it in so long. She disappeared into the bedroom, leaving me alone in the living room.

I sat on the couch, letting the exhaustion of the day settle in. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a text from Lara.

Lara: Did you guys settle in okay?

I smiled faintly, my fingers hovering over the screen.

Me: Yeah. Thank you… for everything.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Lara: Always.

I stared at the screen, the weight in my chest lifting a little more. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to change.

A few weeks passed, and life started to feel... different. Good different. I didn’t know how it happened, but Lara and I had gotten even closer. She was like this unshakable force in my life, always there, always finding a way to make things feel lighter, even when my mind was dark.

But there was still the weight of everything I’d left behind. The texts from my father came almost daily—vile threats, drunken rants, and the occasional plea for money, even though we didn’t have any to give. He’d somehow gotten my mother’s new number too, and the messages to her were worse. She tried to hide it, but I could see how much it was breaking her.

Of course, I hadn’t told Lara about any of it. I didn’t feel like she needed to carry that burden. She was already doing so much for me and my mom. Every time I looked at her, smiling at me like I was worth saving, I couldn’t bring myself to darken her world with my problems.

Instead, I threw myself into school, my internship at Marcus’s dad’s firm, and spending as much time with Lara as I could. She had this way of making everything feel less suffocating, even when I couldn’t fully let her in.

But the texts were a constant reminder that my father was still out there, still waiting to drag us back into his chaos. And no matter how much I wanted to move on, I knew it wasn’t over. Not yet.