Page 78 of God of War

Ares scowls for a moment, then his grin cracks through. He tugs on her braid.

“You left your backpack on the porch. Don’t wanna leave without that, huh?”

“Oh, shoot!” she exclaims, then scampers past me and up the creaking porch steps. I watch her, but find myself studying the house that looms behind her instead. The walls still hold the memory of Dad, forever tainted by him. Sometimes I feel guilty that the good memories, the ones of Mama and of baby Lilly, don’t make a stronger impression but, then again, maybe if they did, I would feel guilty for leaving. As it stands, I can’t wait to never think about this house, about this town, again.

Muscular arms thread around my waist. Ares tugs me back sharply, forcing a cathartic rush of air from my lungs.

“I don’t think this new system is going to cut it,” he rumbles into my ear. “A soda for a swear? Her teeth are going to be rotten through in six months.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right.”

“Any ideas?”

I shrug, my shoulders pressing back into his hard chest. “We’ve got the whole drive to California to figure it out.”

I smile, turn in his arms, and wrap mine around his neck. Ink flashes in my line of sight: thick black letters on my forearm. My first tattoo and the only one I think I’m ever going to get. Ares wrote it there seven years ago, and then again a few months ago in the back of a tattoo parlor. Now it’s never coming off.

A R E S.

“I gotta go to the bathroom!” Lilly yells from the porch. I hear the front door creak open.

“Fine, but hurry up,” he yells at her over my shoulder, rolling his eyes at me. “We gotta get on the road.”

I bite back a smile and Ares’s expression shifts, dropping into a glower. His hands flex on my waist, one far stronger than the other.

“What are you smirking at?”

“Who would have guessed the tough-guy biker would make such an excellent big brother?”

“Not really a biker anymore, remember?”

He doesn’t say it sadly, but it still makes my heart pang a little. I lift one shoulder playfully.

“The offer is still on the table,” I say lightly, even though I already know the answer.

“I’m not taking any of that money, Del. Your Dad’s life insurance is for you and your sister, I’m not using it to modify a fucking motorcycle.”

“I know, I know,” I sigh back.

I was shocked when the check arrived in the mail. The case hadn’t even been officially closed, but the story stuck — Sheriff Trevor Jackson was dead, no doubt about it. After ‘That Night’ in Ares’ house, I was convinced that everything was about to get much, much worse. I lay awake in bed, listening for sirens, for a knock on the door and men with guns coming to drag me and Ares away.

But… nothing happened.

Dad hadn’t reported my theft of the drugs, in the hope that he could recover them first and save himself the embarrassment of having a thief for a daughter. It was only uncovered later, after he and Aaron didn’t show up for duty, and everyone was so freaked out about a missing Sheriff, a missing deputy, and missing drugs that nobody even looked my way.

The town rumor mill was in overdrive by the time they called in some state investigators to take over the search. And when they found Dad’s blood in Aaron’s garage and traces of cocaine under his bed (Ares never said, but the Wastelanders definitely had something to do with that), it was all they needed to close the case.

Corrupt Deputy Murders Sheriff Over Stolen Evidence

Most people assumed Aaron had dumped Dad’s body somewhere on the way to Mexico. Some even suggested they were in it together. It quickly became such an embarrassment for our small town that by the time they appointed a new Sheriff everyone had stopped talking about it. Now, it’s almost like it never happened. Like Dad never existed.

I can’t stop fucking smiling.

And now we’re leaving.

“How long do we have until she gets back?” Ares says, his mouth drifting closer to mine. “You think I can bend you over the hood before—”

The door crashes open. “Okay, let’s go!” Lilly screams, bolting past us.

---