He finally peels his gaze away from the god and turns towards our reaper, his eyes subdued.
Thea takes a step closer and grips his hand. “Trust me.”
He hesitates, indecision swarming in his dark-blue eyes, before he nods once. “All right.”
I can tell the exact moment the glamour hiding Thea dissipates.
Ares’s head whips up, and shock widens his eyes. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost.
Or…a reaper.
“Winnie.” His tone is soft. Reverent.
I want to fucking kill him.
And when he stands and steps towards her, his arms extended? I decide that I’m going to. Fuck the consequences. I’ll find a way to move him far away from my little bird, then I’ll cut out his heart. He may not die from it, but it’ll make me feel better.
“Winnie, it’s you.” Disbelief makes his voice low and husky.
Or maybe that’s just the lust emanating from his normally cold eyes.
He grabs at her arm.
And Thea abruptly tenses and seizes up, her eyes glazing slightly.
I lose my goddamn shit.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
THEA
The gate shuts behind me with a heavy clang that echoes down my spine.
I glance over my shoulder once—at the life I left behind—and then back to the compound in front of me. Stone buildings, looming walls, and training fields dotted with bodies moving in synchronized violence. It doesn’t look like a school.
It looks like a war waiting to happen.
An unfamiliar woman leads me through a courtyard and stops beside a shaded patch of grass.
“Your team,” she says, nodding towards a group of boys admiring a wall of weapons.
They look up when I approach, four pairs of eyes landing on me like I’m some exotic animal they weren’t expecting to see.
I absently bring my hand to my hip, where my birthmark rests.
The birthmark indicating I belong to Ares.
The one who speaks first is tall and already broad-shouldered. His sandy blond hair falls haphazardly into sharp, penetrating eyes.
“This is who we’re paired with?” He folds his arms over his chest with a scoff. “She’s tiny.”
“Everett,” the dark-haired stranger beside him reprimands.
The boy—Everett—scowls but shuts up, though his glare never leaves my face.
The boy on his other side grins so wide it lights up his whole face.
“I’m Krystian,” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he’s raw energy contained in a tiny body. “You’re Winnie, right? Pretty name.”
