The urge to stay buried under her pillows, mortified and invisible, was strong.
Overwhelming, even. But the sleek black key, the glossy, bank-nameless card, and the gate pass lay on her nightstand, a silent, audacious dare.
Hades had told her to go out. To drive. To shop. To do… whatever women do. And despite every fiber of her being screaming no, bad idea, you'll be kidnapped by a rival conglomerate, a tiny, rebellious spark flickered.
It was only a few minutes past 8 PM. The city lights would be waking up. Fresh air sounded like a miracle. Good food was a distant, delectable memory after days of endless torment. Well, except for the steak at the restaurant Hades had taken her to. Where she had totally made a fool of herself.
Now, she desperately, utterly, unequivocally wanted out.
