Echoes In the Abyss

31|Desperation and Despair|

~Perseus's POV.

It's been three days. Three long, unbearable days since I've last seen Artemis.

I haven't slept. Hell, I don't think I've even sat down properly without my mind spiraling out of control. My reflection in the mirror is that foreign to me-dark circles are heavy under my eyes, and my face, once sharp and composed, is covered in an unshaven beard. I've always taken pride in my appearance in maintaining control. Now, I'm just... falling apart.

The house feels empty without her. Her presence, her energy, is missing, and it's like the entire place has grown colder. Zeus, her dog, won't stop pacing the halls, whining every time he passes her room. The poor thing knows something's wrong. He hasn't eaten properly either. I've tried feeding him, but he just stares at the door like he's waiting for her to walk through it.

I wish I could do the same. Just sit and wait for her to come back. But I can't. I'm losing my mind because I don't know where she is or if she's safe.

Three days. Three days, and I've gotten nothing. No leads, no ransom, no message. I've searched every goddamn corner of this city, turned over every stone, spoken to every contact I've ever made, and still, nothing. It's like she vanished into thin air. And the worst part? The Russians have been on us harder than ever. They're picking us apart piece by piece, taking advantage of the fact that I'm distracted.

And I am distracted. I can't even think straight anymore. All I see is her-Artemis-haunting me in every waking moment. I can still hear her voice in my head, feel the warmth of her body next to mine when we'd wake up in the morning.

The scent of her perfume lingers on my sheets, and every time I catch a whiff of it, it feels like a punch to the gut.

I've even started cooking. I never used to cook. I'd leave that to the staff, but for some reason, the act of making something with my hands, something tangible, helps me feel a little more grounded.

I've been spending hours in the kitchen, trying to recreate the dishes she liked. Greek dishes mostly. I remember her smile when we'd eat together, the way she'd laugh at how much food I'd pile onto her plate.

It's stupid, really. She's out there, and I'm in here trying to make spanakopita like it's going to bring her back. But it's the only thing I can do right now. The house smells like food she's not here to eat, and it only adds to the ache.

I've even grown out my beard, something I never do. I look like a mess, and I know it, but who the hell cares? She's the one person who made me want to keep it together, and now she's gone.

The Russians have been relentless since she disappeared. It's as if they can smell the weakness, sense that something's off. They've ambushed three of our shipments in the last 72 hours.

My men are working overtime trying to keep the business afloat, but they're tired. I'm tired. I've been doing everything I can to keep this from falling apart, but with each passing hour, I feel it slipping through my fingers.

I told my parents. They deserve to know. My mother cried when I told her. She loves Artemis-hell, my whole family does. They see what I see in her: strength, resilience, someone who's had to fight her whole life to survive. But even with all that, she's still missing, and I can't help but feel like I've failed her.

My father, ever the strategist, tried to rally his contacts. He called in favors, reached out to old friends, and pulled every string he could. But nothing's come of it. He's even called in some of his old allies, men who owed him from back in the day, but it's like she's vanished off the face of the earth. Even with all the resources at my disposal, I'm coming up empty.

I've kept them in Italy, though. There's no point in dragging them back here into the chaos. It's safer for them there. My mother wanted to return, wanted to be here to help in any way she could, but I refused. The last thing I need is for them to be caught in the crossfire. They're safer far away from this.

But me? I'm trapped here in this nightmare, trying to hold it together, trying to figure out how to fix this. But I don't even know where to start.

The worst part is Elion. I've been interrogating him for days, and the bastard's not giving me anything. He's been guilty since the moment she disappeared.

I knew he was involved. The way he acted, how suspicious he was when I asked him for help, it was too rehearsed.He did admit it was the doing of the Russian Mafia.

In the mafia, you learn to read people's tones, to know when someone's lying to you. And Elion? He's lying through his teeth.

I tried to get him to help at first. He pretended to care and pretended to do his own independent search for her, but the more I spoke to him, the more I knew something was wrong.

His voice was off, too calm, too collected. He wouldn't even look me in the eye half the time. And when I pressed him harder, he just dodged the questions.

That's when I knew.

So, I dragged him down into the basement, and I've been questioning him ever since. But it's no use. He won't crack. No matter what I do, he keeps saying the same thing-that he cares about Artemis, that he's guilty for what he did, but he can't tell me where she is. He says if he does, something terrible will happen to someone he cares about.

Who could he care about more than her?

It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. I've broken men for less, made them beg for mercy within hours. But Elion? He won't budge. It's like he's protecting something bigger, something I can't see.

But I know he's lying. I can feel it in my bones.

I've lost count of how many times I've questioned him. How many times I've tried to get him to tell me the truth. But every time, it's the same. The same guilt-ridden expression, the same refusal to give me what I need. He's hiding something. He has to be.

The house feels like a tomb. Without Artemis here, it's just walls and silence. Zeus barely leaves her room. He sits by the door, whining, waiting for her to come back. It's tearing me apart to see him like this. He's just as restless as I am, just as lost. Every time I look at him, it's like a mirror of my own pain.

I haven't left the house much. I've been too focused on trying to find her, too obsessed with trying to figure out where she is. My men are handling the shipments and dealing with the Russians, but I know they're struggling. I'm supposed to be leading them, and instead, I'm here, falling apart.

Three days. Three days without her. And I don't know how much longer I can take it.

I lean back in my chair, running a hand through my disheveled hair. The room is dark, the only light coming from the dim overhead bulb. I haven't bothered turning on more lights. What's the point? Everything feels dark without her anyway.

I close my eyes, just for a moment, and I can almost hear her voice. Almost feel her next to me. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and now that I've finally let myself feel something, she's been ripped away from me.

I don't know where she is. I don't know if she's safe. And it's killing me.

I open my eyes and stare at the empty glass in front of me. I've never been one to wallow in self-pity, but right now, I don't know what else to do. I've never felt this helpless before. I never felt like I was losing control.

But I can't lose her. I won't.

I'll find her. No matter what it takes, no matter how long it takes. I'll bring her back.

And whoever took her? Whoever's behind this?

They're going to pay.
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I really hope he finds her(why am I talking like I'm not the author).
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Word count:1452 words