Page 29 of God of War

When I settle down on the bed, I check my phone. I’m almost out of charge and, of course, I forgot my charger at home. There are a few missed calls from Dad. No texts. He wouldn’t want written proof of the things he wants to say to me.

Lilly hasn’t called, and it’s probably for the best, because I don’t think I could hear her voice tonight without breaking down in tears. Instead, I clutch my backpack to my chest and pretend it’s her, that I’m hugging her close, and I rock myself to sleep.

***

I can’t breathe. There’s pressure over my mouth, half blocking my nose. My eyes fly open and two pale eyes stare back, unblinking in the murky darkness. Ares’ breath is warm over my face. Fear roars at me, turning my body to stone.

He’s no different, the fear says. He creeps and claws and takes what he wants.

Something inside me dies. A light snuffing out.

The bed creaks, his knee finding the edge of the mattress, and Ares leans further over me. I am frozen, waiting for him to pull back the thin sheet, to rake his eyes over my body — God, why didn’t I sleep in my jeans? Maybe that would have sent more of a signal. But this, me in just my t-shirt and underwear, it’s like I invited him. Gave him permission.

My pulse hammers in my ears as I wait for him to make his move. He lifts a single finger to his lips.

And that’s when I hear it. The purr of an engine. The crunch of tires on gravel.

We’re not alone.

I can’t parse out the relief from the new terror, so I just nod against Ares’ hand and he lets me go. As he turns, he fishes the gun from the back of his jeans. It’s a smooth and practiced motion, like he’s done this countless times before.

“Stay here,” he murmurs. Even though his voice is low, it booms in my ears.

As he leaves the bedroom, I throw off the sheet and scramble into my jeans. My sneakers are so well-worn that I never untie them anymore, just slide my feet right in.

I make it into the dark living room to find Ares flattening himself beside the window, his gun tight to his thigh. He glares at me as I hover in the doorway.

“What did I just say?”

“Is it Flores?” I ask.

Ares parts the blinds with one finger and peers outside. “Too dark. I can’t tell.”

“A Wastelander?”

He levels me with a tight look. Stupid question. Nobody would have come out here without contacting Ares first.

The car stops and the engine goes quiet. There’s the grating squeak of a car door opening and pin-pricks of fear creep up my spine. It’s funny, how one sound can imprint on your brain, like a finger drawing in wet cement. Unable to be erased. It’s a sound I would lay awake waiting for. A sound that meant I had about three minutes to grab a bag and climb out my window before he came looking for me.

I suck in a gasp and Ares’ eyes dart to me.

Outside, the car door slams.

“I know you’re in there, kiddo! Why don’t you come on out and stop all this nonsense!”

Ares’ lips pull back into a snarl. “Fuck,” he growls.

My knees give out and I sink to the floor, my back pressed flat against the wall. It bows against the pressure of me. Like a house made of cards, it’s all about to come tumbling down — my plan, my life — and I’m going to take Ares down with me. I’m going to ruin his life all over again.

“Del, you hear me, sweetie? I just want to know that you’re okay.” Dad’s sugary voice floats through the night air. My chest constricts. Tightens painfully.

It’s over. Over. Over. Over.

“Delaney? Baby girl, it’s time to end this. You come on out, bring what you took, and all will be forgiven. No harm, no foul.”

I try to swallow, my tongue dry as sandpaper. Ares looks at me, his mouth pressed into a grim line.

“It’s over, Ares. I have to go.”

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