Chapter 24 Harper #2
A swift shove slams my back against the cold wall, knocking me slightly off balance, dust scattering from the impact. Pain blooms along my spine, not sharp enough to cripple me but enough to steal my breath for several seconds as I struggle to find air again.
I push off the wall, reaching instinctively for my wand, but he’s faster.
Much faster.
He lunges, one hand closing around my wrist while the other slips under my sweater, sliding the wood from its holster with a practiced familiarity that chills me. He steps back just enough to spin it between his fingers, examining it like it’s a trinket he’s considering stealing.
“Your father said you’d be strategic,” he says, his voice dipping into amusement as he studies my wand. “Grabbing your wand in front of me is not that.”
He leans one shoulder against the opposite wall, crossing one ankle over the other as if this is a casual conversation rather than the prelude to abduction.
Lantern light from the street stops short of touching him; he seems to blend into the dimness, the faint gleam of the serpent tattoo the only sign that something vile has crept into Anavris unnoticed.
“You and I both know I don’t need that to hurt you,” I spit, forcing my voice to steady even though my lungs are still shaking.
His expression softens into something far more unnerving than anger. Interest.
“Maybe,” he says slowly, letting the word linger between us, “but let’s not pretend, sweetheart. You still have very little grasp over your magic. You could kill me and everyone in Anavris without meaning to. Including your little boy toy.”
Heat flares under my skin, not embarrassment, not fear...rage.
“Don’t,” I warn.
He only shrugs. “It’s true. And somewhat tragic. Most powerful things tend to be unstable until they break.”
He flicks my wand into the air, lets it fall. The sound of wood hitting stone is louder than it should be. It feels like watching a limb being severed.
“What do you want?” The words scrape out of me.
He steps off the wall, his movements fluid, controlled, almost elegant for someone so lethal. He walks toward me until the shadows swallow the edges of his face and all I can see are those blue eyes, bright enough to carve through the darkness.
“You really think your father would come deliver a message himself?” he asks lightly, as if insulting me and insulting Andrew are the same thing. “He has… bigger concerns.”
“If they see you-” I gesture weakly toward the street “-they’ll kill you.”
He laughs. Quiet. Certain. Almost pitying.
“No,” he murmurs, stepping closer until the wall behind me seems to fold inward. “They won’t. And here’s why.”
His hand snaps up without warning, fingers locking around my jaw with brutal precision.
The grip is firm, forcing my head back before I can even think to resist. My spine hits the brick behind me as his thumb presses beneath my cheekbone, tilting my face upward until I’m staring directly into him.
The contact isn’t just physical; it’s invasive, claiming my stillness, demanding my attention when every nerve in my body screams to move, to fight, to run.
“I have no interest in killing Andrew’s children,” he whispers.
His voice is low, each word a measured breath against my lips. There’s no heat in it. No emotion. Just certainty. The kind that settles in your bones and tells you resistance is already accounted for. His eyes don’t waver as he continues, mouth barely inches from mine.
“Quite honestly, I don’t care what he wants you for.” His grip tightens, just enough to remind me I’m not in control. “My task was simple, remind you that time is running out. You can only avoid turning yourself in for so long.”
The words twist something sharp and nauseating in my stomach. My pulse roars in my ears, drowning out the distant sounds of the city beyond the alley, the laughter, the footsteps, the life continuing as if I’m not being pinned here.
But he isn’t finished.
“Your father took something from me.”
His voice drops lower, the words thickening. It’s not anger. It’s ownership. A promise sharpened into inevitability.
“And I want it back,” he continues softly. “You help me reclaim what is mine, and I help you end him.” His thumb shifts, pressing harder into my skin. “An eye for an eye.”
The meaning hits me like a stone to the ribs. My lungs seize, my thoughts scrambling to keep up with the weight of what he’s offering. What he’s demanding. The alley feels narrower suddenly, the brick at my back unforgiving.
“You leave them out of it,” I force out.
My voice cracks despite myself, desperation threading through the words before I can stop it. I hate that he hears it. Hate that he feels it in the way my body tenses beneath his hand.
His grip loosens, not kindness. Not mercy. Calculation.
His gaze flicks toward the mouth of the alley, where the noise of vendors bleeds in like a distant tide. The scent of spices. The scrape of boots on stone. Life brushing up against the edge of something violent and unseen. His posture shifts, subtle but unmistakable, not cautious.
Curious.
“They’re not who I’m here for,” he says quietly.
Then his attention returns to me, and something changes.
My pulse stutters. The alley feels too small. The air too thin.
And in that shimmering glint of gold, the truth I’ve been avoiding clicks into place.
I know those eyes.
From visions...from nightmares.
He steps forward. I don’t. I can’t.
“You should have listened,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a whisper that threads down my spine. “Time’s almost up.”
Sebastian stops at the mouth of the alleyway, breath unsteady, his wand raised. His entire body is coiled rage, every line in his shoulders, every twitch in his jaw. His eyes flare green, magic igniting as a curse forms silently on his lips.
Blue eyes doesn’t even look up. “You’d better stop him before I do.”
The casual threat in his tone sends my pulse skittering. I move instinctively, not toward blue eyes, but away from him, toward Sebastian. My steps quicken, suddenly desperate to reach him before the curse on his tongue becomes reality.
“Sebastian,” I breathe.
He’s shaking, almost vibrating with the need to unleash something fatal.
When my hands slip up to grip the sides of his neck, warm and trembling beneath my palms, he snaps his attention to me with a force that steals my breath.
The tension in his arms loosens just enough for his wand to lower.
His eyes rake over me, frantic, cataloging bruises and tremors I didn’t realize were visible.
Behind him, Liam and Theo crash into the alleyway, their wands drawn, two points of lethal light aimed directly at the intruder.
“Did he hurt you?” Sebastian asks, voice ragged.
Before I can answer, blue eyes speaks for us, his tone dripping with a smile I refuse to look at.
“No, but I could have, considering how delayed your response was.”
Sebastian lunges.
Not with magic but with raw violence.
The curse is gone from his tongue, replaced with the simple, terrifying intent to break blue eye’s face with his bare hands.
I barely manage to catch his wrist, fingers tightening until I feel the strain in my own bones.
Beside us, Liam steps in front of Theo, shoulder squared, wand raised, his entire body forming a shield around the blind boy.
“Sebastian, wait.” My voice cracks. “Hear him out.”
Sebastian wheels on me, eyes blazing with something that looks almost betrayed. “Hear him out? He stole you. Dragged you into an alley. And you want to hear him out? Harper, I should kill him.”
Blue eyes sighs loudly, head tipping back, as if bored with the entire conversation. “Maybe if she were as agreeable as you, I could’ve simply discussed my offer over a pint like a normal man.”
Sebastian snaps so fast I barely have time to suck in a breath. He shoves me behind him, shielding me with his body, wand aimed with lethal accuracy at blue eye’s throat. Rage rolls off him like waves breaking against stone.
That’s when Liam speaks.
“Ares?”
The name hits the air like a blade. Ares’s attention shifts, not to Sebastian, but to Liam.
Slowly, deliberately, he folds his arms, a chuckle rasping in his chest as he steps closer.
Close enough that I see the scar slashing across his cheek, the bruises shadowing the cut of his jaw, the faint shimmer of golden flecks in his irises.
The world seems to tilt toward him.
“What’s it been, Whitlock?” Ares asks softly. “Years?”
Liam goes still.
Not the kind of stillness born from fear. Something deeper. Older. A grave being unearthed.
His head shakes once, like denial, dread, and recognition all collided inside him.
Ares smiles.
And the air in the alleyway turns poisonous.
“Who is that, Liam?”
My voice comes out lower than intended, tight with suspicion, and Sebastian’s hand only tightens around my waist the longer Ares’s eyes linger on us. The stare isn’t hostile, not exactly, but it feels invasive, like he’s flipping through pages in a book he has no business reading.
Liam doesn’t answer at first. He swallows hard, jaw flexing, wand still raised. “He’s the son of our father’s right-hand man,” he finally says, each word clipped and bitter. “And nothing more than a good-for-nothing asshole.”
Ares’s smile drops instantly, wiped clean as if Liam slapped it off his face. Something sharp flickers in his golden-rimmed eyes, irritation layered with something colder… older.
“So that’s what you’re going with?” Ares murmurs, voice soft but thrilled with danger. “Funny. Considering what I know about your father. About you.”
Sebastian shifts in front of me, blocking my view, and Ares casually angles his head as though cataloging all of Sebastian’s weaknesses in a single glance.
“I could’ve killed her,” he says simply.
“My father told me to. Ordered me to.” His fingers flex, as if recalling the knife still hidden beneath his coat.
“But instead, I’m here. Making a deal, one that could save you all. ”
A cold weight forms in my stomach.
“What do you need back?” I ask.
Ares finally looks at me, really looks, and the smirk returns, slow and knowing, as though my question humors him. “That, Harper,” he says, voice purring with amusement, “is a story for another time.”
In one smooth motion, he tosses my wand to Sebastian without breaking eye contact. Sebastian catches it with a grunt, immediately shifting me further behind him.
Ares raises his own wand lazily, rolling his shoulders like this entire encounter has bored him.
“We’ll keep in touch,” he says. “I’ll come back in a few days for your answer, whether you’ll help me or not.
” He pauses, gaze sliding to Sebastian with a grin sharp enough to cut. “Hopefully when grumpy’s not around.”
And before any of us can react, he flicks his wrist.
The alley fills with the soft crack of air splitting, his dissipation spell swallowing him whole.
Silence replaces him.
My gaze swings immediately to Liam, narrowing, heat rising beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. “Care to explain?” I hiss, my voice trembling with fury I don’t bother hiding.
Because something in Ares’s tone, something in Liam’s reaction, tells me this encounter was not chance.
And nothing about this man…
this connection…
this threat…
is simple.