The room spins as I look back at the blood staining Augustus’ collar. He reaches up, touching the cut and the blood smears.
And my throat closes off. It’s no longer Augustus’ fancy home I’m seeing but the wreckage of an old, drab apartment. There’s blood. So much blood. Everywhere. On the floor. On the table. All over their clothes. Their bodies. It’s splattered on the walls.
My stomach rolls.
I’m faintly aware that my feet are moving, but when I trip over what I think are stairs, I’m swept off my feet.
Emmie’s hair glued to her face with blood. Red staining Mom’s chest. The blue rug under the table is no longer blue but purple now that it’s saturated with red.
“Lana,” a voice calls my name after the sharp sound of what might be a door closing. Something warm and firm caresses my face. “Lana.”
Screams. Someone was screaming. Me.
And then the cries of the neighbor. The flashing lights of the police cars. Questions. So many questions. My own sobs. And finally, the warm, familiar embrace of my father.
But there was so, so much blood.
“Lana,” a scared voice begs.
I blink, realizing that my cheeks are wet with tears. A warm hand once more wipes over my face, and I suck in a sharp breath.
Ares’ face comes into focus.
We’re in the middle of my bed, back in our apartment.
How the hell did we get here?
“Lana,” Ares breathes out in relief. His hands tremble just slightly as he wipes his thumb over my cheek, his fingers splayed back into my hair. “Fuck. Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”
The tears well in my eyes again, but this time, they don’t break free. I’m so damn embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Ares. We can’t… We can’t do this. You’re a fucking vampire, and I see a little blood and lose my shit.”
“Hey,” he says, grabbing my wrists as my hands rise to thread through my hair, my entire body shaking. “You have nothing to be sorry for, and it’s going to take more than a little trauma blackout to scare me away, Vengeance.”
I freeze at that. Because just like that, he’s seen it for exactly what it was. How the hell can he read it so well?
How is he not walking away in embarrassment?
“Do you want to talk about it?” he says softly. Those eyes study my face, and I’m astounded by the lack of judgment in his expression. There’s only concern.
Who the hell is Ares Hunt? Cause there’s no way he’s a real man. He’s the most complicated, perplexing male I’ve ever laid eyes on or had the privilege of touching.
I squeeze my eyes closed and try as hard as I can not to picture what landed me here. But it’s there, branded to the back of my eyelids.
“When I was fifteen, I’d been at school late,” I say, even without giving my lips permission to share the past. “I’d been sick a few days before, and I had to make up two different tests. I didn’t come home until a few hours after Emmie had already gone home. Mom, she worked in the office at the school, so she usually walked with us to and from. She and Emmie went ahead of me since I was going to be a while.”
Ares takes my hands, which were lying in my lap. He smooths his thumb over the back of my hands, his tattoos standing in stark contrast to my own clear skin.
“When I came home…” my words shake as they fail. And it’s like I’m right there again. “The front door was ajar. I knew something wasn’t right.”
It was so damn cold that day. The wind had been blowing sideways, and the rain was starting to fall. My shoes were half soaked. The lobby floor had been slippery and dirty. But despite the heater running, the hallway had seemed cold when I stepped onto our floor. My ears started ringing before I stepped foot into our apartment, as if I already knew.
“I walked inside, and they…” I squeeze my eyes closed. “Mom was on the floor in the dining room. Emmie was lying in the kitchen. They’d… they’d been stabbed.”
Ares curses under his breath, the look in his eyes softening.
“It was seven times for Mom,” I say as my voice cracks. “Three times for Emmie. I guess the guy who did it took a little mercy on a twelve-year-old. The police said she would have been gone within seconds. So, at least she didn’t suffer very long.”
The rage that fills me when I think about what they did to her, how they did make my mother suffer, makes me want to end the whole damn world. The evil that some can possess is enough to make you want to give up on humanity.
