Page 50 of God of War

It’s blood.

The stairs open up into a basement. Wooden crates are stacked in the corners and pipes hang from the ceiling. Oh, and it’s packed with people. Drunk, shouting, screaming people. Some asshole jostles into me and warm beer sloshes down my arm.

“Watch it!”

My words don’t even make it to my ears, that’s how fucking loud it is down here. The crowd surges, all cheering at something in the center of the room. Suddenly I’m pushed from behind. A wave of people press me forward, sweeping me off my feet. Panic claws at my chest. I try to suck in a breath but my lungs are tight, unable to expand.

Crowd crush. I’d read about it, seen it in the news when some concert venue didn’t take the necessary precautions to keep people safe. I never thought it’d happen to me. As dark spots start to dance on the edges of my vision, I summon all my strength and jab my elbow into the gut of the person behind me. The pressure eases up, just a little, and my thankful feet find the floor.

I suck in a breath, sour air filling me, and I wiggle my way through the crowd, looking for an exit. I push forward, easier to work with the crowd than to fight it, and I find myself moving towards a noise I hadn’t noticed before. A repeating wet thwack.

Light. Brilliant, beautiful light. I stumble to a stop, suddenly at the front of the writhing audience, and my brain grinds to a halt. I can’t move, can’t blink. I just stare, slack-jawed, at the sight in front of me.

Sweat rolls down his naked back, his inked skin glistening with every flex of his taut and primed muscles. His jeans hang low around his narrow hips as he bounces barefoot across the scuffed floor. His mouth is a grim slash, his jaw sharp, his eyes shadowed by his furrowed brow.

I hated Sunday school when I was a kid. Was never interested in learning about Bible stories or the Ten Commandments. But I still know a sin when I see it, and Ares’ body is all sin.

He pulls back his fist, his knuckles raw and bloody, and lets fly, connecting hard against the jaw of his opponent in the makeshift ring. The sound is stomach-churning — wet and fleshy.

The other guy stumbles and the crowd Ooohs in anticipation, but he recovers fast and swings back, his hit just as hard against Ares’ jaw. Like he’s made of stone, Ares doesn’t even flinch. He snaps forward, pummelling his opponent with a flurry of razor-sharp jabs until the guy’s face is a mask of blood. He struggles on wobbly legs — one last hit knocking him clean out — and lands with a heavy thud on the cold floor. The crowd explodes — both with cheers and howls of frustrated defeat. Money passes hands.

Ares stands in the middle of the ring, oblivious to the chaos his win has caused. His hands are still curled into fists at his sides. His chest heaves with jagged breaths. He swipes at the sweat on his brow with his wrist, letting his golden hair fall to obscure his eyes.

I can’t stop staring.

19

Ares

The old guy behind the bar had been right. Just by looking at me, he could tell that I’m a fighter. It’s what I’ve done all my life — scrapping in the schoolyard, my anger burning inside me like a fire. It’s what I do for the Wastelanders, although they’ve taught me to be calculated, how to rein in that anger until just the right moment. But this? Fighting here, in this shitty, small town fight club, it’s a chance to finally let that anger out. Let it breathe.

Beating this guy feels good. With every bone-quaking blow I deliver, I imagine that it’s Sheriff Jackson on the receiving end. I imagine that I’m caving in his face, making him bleed, doling out justice for what he’s done to Delaney.

The guy goes down hard and the explosion of the crowd brings me back to reality. To this dim, sweat-fogged room. I saunter to the edge of the ring, taking deep breaths to stretch my chest, and mentally check myself for injuries. The adrenaline in my veins is too thick and potent for me to notice any pain.

Hands land on my sweaty back — heavy pats of congratulations. Not everyone is happy, though. Half the crowd wants me dead, the other half — the ones that bet on the mysterious newcomer — want to hoist me on their shoulders and celebrate the money they’ve just made. I just want to get back to the motel room. Back to Delaney. I hated leaving her. Maybe I should have explained what I was doing, but then she’d have wanted to tag along, and there’s no way that was fucking happening. I couldn’t bring her here, down to this shithole. She deserves better than that.

Then, across the ring: spots of yellow flowers on a white dress, a halo of curls, two shimmering green eyes.

I blink and scrub a hand over my eyes like it’ll clear away the hallucination, but it’s her.

“What the fuck?” I yell across the ring. She holds up a hand. An innocent little wave.

Hands. There are hands on her. Slithering over her shoulders, pulling her back into the crowd. Her mouth drops open in shock and she struggles against the guy who’s far too drunk to care about her no. Then, like she’s being swallowed beneath roaring ocean waves, she’s gone.

I ignore the next bout that’s starting, tearing through the middle of the ring. I plunge into the crowd, sending shocked, drunken patrons scattering.

“Delaney!”

I can’t see her. Can’t find her. My heart is loud and sharp in my chest.

There! Another flash of yellow and white. That little fucking dress. I growl and surge forward, swatting people aside. I break through to the back of the room, just in time to see Delaney jab her sharp fist into some guy’s nose. His shriek is covered by a burst of noise from the crowd — the next fight already underway — and he rocks back, blood spritzing from between his fingers as he clutches at his face. I twist my fists in his shirt and slam him against the wall. His skull makes a sharp crack and he howls again.

“Fuckin’ ‘itch! B’oke mah noz!”

Delaney pops up at my side. Light glints off the switchblade in her hand. “How about I cut your dick off? That’ll make the nose pretty inconsequential, huh?”

The guy sneers, his teeth stained red. “You’re done,” he says. “You’re both out of the room tonight or I’m calling the cops.”

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