My voice is almost a whisper.
“You stabbed him twenty-seven times. That might raise some suspicion.”
I hear the smile in his voice. What’s supposed to be funny? I killed a man. Not in self-defense. In a fit of rage. I broke down, plain and simple.
Recovering my memories was a blessing, but also a poisoned gift. The truth hit me like a freight train—too late to turn back. Jace had already stolen my child. I refused to let him take Ares too.
Robert sighs softly.
“You should go home and get some sleep.”
As if sleep could fix anything.
It’s been four days since Ares has been here. And four days that Robert has come by daily, trying to start a conversation. But I don’t want to talk to anyone.
In a way, I’m grateful to him. Without Robert, I might not even be allowed to stay by Ares’s side. But that doesn’t mean I appreciate the company. Least of all his.
“I’m fine,” I grunt.
I hear his exasperated sigh, which makes me roll my eyes.
His hand appears in my field of vision. He places a bag on the bedside table.
“Eat something,” he murmurs before his footsteps echo away and the door closes behind him.
Immediate relief washes over me. Finally alone.
Exhausted, I lean forward, resting my forehead on the corner of the mattress. A faint scent reaches me, but it’s not his. A shiver runs through me. I miss him. I miss his scent.
Ares was my refuge. My home. And it’s been ages since I last felt at home.
I close my eyes and sigh. How much longer? When will he finally open them? I need to see them. Need to be sure he’s okay. That the resuscitation wasn’t in vain.
I just want my grumpy man back.
A faint groan breaks the silence. My breath catches instantly, my muscles freeze. Did I dream it? Or is it real?
I hold my breath, straining to listen, but nothing else comes. Maybe my mind is playing tricks. Yet, an odd trembling seizes me. Slowly, I raise my head.
And there he is.
His eyes are open. He’s looking at me, still a bit lost, but awake.
“You’re awake!” I exclaim, my voice trembling with emotion.
Ares immediately grimaces. Even I find my own enthusiasm too loud.
“Obviously… Fuck, everything hurts. I survived?”
I almost laugh if only a part of me wasn’t still clutching the fear of another tragedy. Misfortune seems to chase me, and I’m still waiting for the next disaster.
“I would never have let you die,” I whisper, squeezing his hand gently.
Ares turns his palm and intertwines our fingers—a simple gesture, but incredibly reassuring.
“You look like hell,” he says after studying me for a moment.
I roll my eyes.
