Page 34 of God of War

“Don’t thank me yet, I didn’t say you could call any time soon. For all we know, the Sheriff’s putting a trace on your aunt’s line.”

Delaney nods solemnly, then hands me a hunk of rock. Seconds later, her phone is scattered in bits on the forest floor.

“Let’s go,” I say, turning my back on her. “We’ve got a long walk until we hit civilization.”

13

Delaney

“You need to eat something.”

I blink. My head feels fuzzy, my limbs heavy. I don’t know if I can stay awake long enough to eat anything, let alone lift my arms to hold a knife and fork. Ares sighs, annoyed at my lack of response, and pushes my full plate across the shiny diner table.

“Eat,” he commands. The smell of bacon, eggs, and syrupy pancakes swirl to my nose. It makes me want to gag, the grease and the sweetness of it all, but I reluctantly grab my fork and force down a bite.

Five minutes later, I’m swiping the last piece of bacon through the puddle of sticky syrup. I close my eyes and pop it in my mouth, humming in satisfaction. I feel so much better, but if Ares expects me to admit it, he’s in for a long wait.

An awkward cough and the squeak of vinyl pull me back. Across from me, Ares shifts in his seat, his gaze flicking away quickly.

Wait, was he watching me eat?

My cheeks burn and I grab for my coffee, topped up by somebody when I was too distracted by the food in front of me. I down half the cup before I find the nerve to look at Ares again.

He doesn’t look tired, not even a little bit. As he looks down at his phone, the angles of his face and the blond scruff along his jaw are washed in soft morning light. He glows gold and warm, the only coolness of him being the gray of his eyes as he scans his phone screen. My chest tightens, my heart speeding up a little.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper crush before. Boys in school were always so… childish. They were loud and goofy and believed that driving around in their shitty cars and blaring rap music was the way into a girl’s panties.

I think about little eleven-year-old me, unsure as to what this strange, bubbly feeling inside was. All I knew was that I wanted to talk to Ares again, have him smile at me again. I remember trailing my fingers over his name on my forearm, the ink of his block-letters feeling so perfectly permanent.

Until they washed away. Until I got him thrown in lock-up. Until I screwed everything up.

Guilt surges through me, icy like a frozen wave. I might have a crush on the asshole-known-as-Ares, but there’s no way he would ever feel the same about me. A fuck-up. A broken thing.

“So,” I say with false brightness. I put my cup on the table, nestling it between my palms, play-acting like it’s actually hot. “You think we’ll be safe here?”

Ares looks out the window. It’s still early. The day is just starting for most folks, so the streets of Bowen aren’t busy.

We’d come out of the woods by the highway just after dawn, and Ares had led me here. We walked deep into town, Bowen being three times the size of our own little home. I was almost dead on my feet by the time he pulled open the door to Linda’s, a cheery, yellow-checkered diner with window boxes of real flowers.

“Safe for now,” Ares replies.

“Any word?” I ask as he pockets his phone. He looks up at me again, his eyes carefully scrutinizing my face for weakness.

“You can tell me the truth,” I say. “If we’re screwed, I’d rather hear it from you.”

I’d rather hear it from you.

I want to yank the words back, but Ares’ lip twitches for a moment. A little non-smile to let me know he caught it.

I shake my head, push my cup to the side and fiddle uselessly with a spoon. “I mean, you might be an asshole but at least you’re honest.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” he replies sarcastically. He takes a breath and raises his arms, his elbows bent and his hands behind his head. He groans his words through his stretch.

“Griff says to keep laying low.”

My eyes trail over his muscles, chiselled hardness shifting under swaths of tattooed skin. It’s annoyingly mouthwatering and I wish he’d just go back to being a jerk, instead of the hot guy sitting across from me, like we were on some breakfast date.

“He knows about your dad.”

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