Page 109 of Heroes & Hitmen
But then I thought about Jordan. About the future she’d lose if I stayed, one without politics and forced pairings. This isn’t just my chance– it’s hers, too. I could carve out something resembling happiness here with Ares, but it’d be built on her eventual suffering, and that’s not a trade I can live with.
So, I have to step off that ledge.
But every time I steal a glance at Ares, I find myself hesitating to take the leap.
He’s perched on the kitchen peninsula, legs swinging like a kid that’s too big for playgrounds, but his whole body radiates misery. The mug of coffee beside him has long gone cold, and he isn’t eventrying to hide how bad he’s hurting. That’s what guts me the most. He’s not posturing or playing it cool, he’s just… wrecked.
I’m on the couch, phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling social media. Well,pretendingto. I keep looking up, catching Ares’ reflection in the living room window. The skyline at dusk is heartbreakingly beautiful– gold fire cutting between buildings, a million tiny lights blooming like manmade stars as the sun drops. As I drink it in for what might be the last time, I let myself imagine the fantasy version of tonight. A romantic last supper, a clean goodbye, and actual closure. But real life rarely grants clean exits. Real life is full of unfinished business and too many things left unsaid.
The plan is airtight on paper. I’ll take the elevator down to the twentieth floor, pick up Jordan, and we’ll continue down to the parking garage together. Our bags are already packed and waiting in the trunk of her car. We’ll slip away while the pack’s distracted by the full moon, and by sunrise, we’ll be safe in Colorado with new names, new lives, and our first taste of true freedom.
“You should probably get going,” Ares murmurs, his voice scraping through the stillness.
My throat tightens. I manage a nod, then croak, “Yeah.”
He rakes both hands through his copper hair, heaving a resigned sigh. The Ares I met weeks ago would be pacing by now, cracking jokes and filling the silence with nonsense. This version is quiet, pulled inside himself like a dying star.
I hate it.
I should say something. I should tell him how I feel, or that I changed my mind, or that I’d rather be doomed together than safe apart. That I love him, and if he asked, I might stay.
Instead, I see him staring off down the hall, rubbing his tongue along his gums, and ask, “Does it still hurt?” even though I already know.
He doesn’t answer right away. He slowly turns to face me, and for the first time all day he lets his mask drop and I see the real damage, the hollowness in his eyes and the grit in his jaw. He’s been putting on a brave face since undergoing his procedure this morning, but I remember how I felt after my own. Like I’d been violated, a piece of me stolen.
Ares schools his expression and shrugs as if it’s not even worth discussing. “Less than I expected. More than I wanted.” A flash of old arrogance, dulled by reality.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t apologize,” he snaps, but there’s no bite in it. Just frustration. “None of this is your fault.”
I huff out a bitter laugh. “It’sallmy fault. If I hadn’t walked into that bar, you’d still be a free man. Not tangled up in my personal apocalypse.”
“I’m the one who told your dad we were fated mates, remember?”
“Yeah, to cover forme,” I point out.
“And I’d do it again.” He almost smiles, but it’s a half-hearted ghost of his usual grin. “No regrets, babe.”
Something inside me fractures.
I look away, blinking hard at the window, gaze dancing between the buildings. The minutes keep slipping away, but I can’t move. I’m terrified to leave, but I know I can’t stay.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” I whisper, even though the words feel useless. There’s no such thing as careful when Alpha’s gunning for you.
Ares grins for real this time, albeit just a flicker. “Always. You don’t need to worry about me, sweetheart. Just focus on getting out. As long as you’re safe, I’ll be good.”
He hops down from the counter and crosses the room, taking me by the hands and pulling me up from the couch. His palms settle on my hips, warm and grounding, but it only reminds me of how much I’m about to lose. I want to memorize this moment– the scent of him, sharp and warm and familiar, the pressure of his body against mine, the tension in the air between us.
He opens his mouth like he wants to say something profound, but nothing comes out. Instead, he just wraps his arms around me, burying his face in my hair and breathing me in like I’m already a memory.
I close my eyes and lean into him, heart cracking open. He holds me until I stop shaking, then pulls back, eyes locking with mine.
“Listen, Miley…”
“Don’t,” I choke, shaking my head. “Don’t say something that’ll make this harder than it already is or make me want to stay.”
“You’re not staying,” he states firmly. “You’re getting out. I want you safe. I want… fuck, I just wantyou, but you already know that.”
