Page 72 of Carry Your Debt

The idea of my sharing her with them isn’t a new one.

Sabine’s always beenours.

But because I’m afraid she’s not the same girl we lost six, almost seven years ago.

That she’s apparently got this whole other life—one that we’d also have to learn to share her with. I’m afraid that if we let herworm her way back in and we start playing house with her, that we’d just be packing all of these unresolved feelings down inside the cracks of our foundation like a bunch of C-4.

At which point, we may as well hand her the match so she can skip straight to lighting the cord and blowing our hearts to fucking pieces.

Again.

And I know Lake's not as discerning as the rest of us with his bed partners, but hooking up withthisguy? It almost feels like a betrayal. Like he’s been sleeping with the enemy.

“Ares—” she starts, and for once, it seems she’s unsure about her next words.

To be honest, I don’t know what she could say in this moment that wouldn’t make me want to crack a tooth. Luckily for her, she’s saved by Oz’s grizzled voice coming over the tinny PA system to announce last bets on round one.

“That’s our cue, babygirl,” Dionysus declares, slapping her on the ass.

“Asshole, I’m going to do a lap of the crowd,” she chides, but the scowl she gives him is playful. She’s not exactly short, butfuck, in comparison, he makes her look almost…delicate.

Yeah, not liking my odds tonight.

“C’mon, the thought of watching the two of us—shirtless, sweaty, and getting our bloody punch on–isn’ttickling your kitty’s fancy?” Dionysus teases. “Not even a little?”

Jesus Christ, it’s like this guy’s dial is permanently stuck onseduction.

“Go warm up, or whatever the fuck you need to do,” she gripes this time, shoving him in the direction of the mini locker rooms they have set up for the fighters. He finally relents, sauntering off with a last wink at us both.

“Look—” she tries as soon as he’s out of sight.

My boots squeak against the damp concrete floor as I immediately turn, ready to head in the same direction as my opponent.

“Wait,” she calls to my retreating back.

It’s all I can do not to turn back at the hint of a plaintive lilt in her voice, but I can’t deal with any of that right now; I’m just about out of time to get myself fight-ready.

“Come find me after,” I growl over my shoulder. “We’ll talk then.”

Damn,he can move fast for being such a large motherfucker.

I might have several inches on him, but this Dionysus guy’s built like a powerhouse—all broad, solid muscle mass.

I pivot, his knuckles only grazing my cheekbone instead of the hard jab behind them finding its connection.

Trap muscles ache sharply as I bring a wrist up to swipe across my forehead, matching rivulets of blood and perspiration inching down my face.There’s a tiny amount of satisfaction when I see Dionysus do the same; forced to squint against a small but aggressive bleeder that’s now dissecting one of his brows.

A tiny amountbecause absolutely none of it’s slowing this fucker down.At all. And I’ve already lost track of how long the match has lasted, thus far.

Even still, I can’t help the manic grin I’m wearing.I always feel at home in the cage. The adrenaline of the fight loves to hold me hostage on the canvas, and it’s been so long since someone managed to put me through my paces.

Dionysus returns the wide smile with one of his own—lips and teeth equally as bloody as mine. He runs a sweat-slickedpalm down the line of his obliques. “Not slacking on me, are you,Ares?”

Asshole.

I’m starting to flag, and he knows it. I can see him sizing up the condition of each of my weak spots.

Sees I’m tight around the lats, that my range of motion isn’t all there.

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