Chapter 7
seven
-Brynn-
My eyes flutter open, and I realize I’m back in my bedroom.
How the hell did I get here?
I ask myself, though my lips don’t move to say it out loud.
I remember Ares’s men coming for me, and the feeling when I stepped into his house.
He looked like a fucking dark god sitting in that living room, eyes locked on me, finally acknowledging my existence in his life.
Just not for the reasons I wanted him to.
I fucked up. Too eager to get things done, too eager to prove myself. But I’m running out of time. And there’s still one thing in my life I need to take care of.
My eyes slip shut again, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m too exhausted or just my brain trying to piece together what the hell actually happened to me.
I think it’s a mixture of both. And suddenly, the image of Ares appears before my eyes.
If I didn’t want to kill him, I’d sure want to fuck him.
The man’s a damn vision. Dominance exudes through every single one of his pores, but it’s also something dark, like a black spell pulling me in as I see my image reflected in his dark orbs.
And I could punch myself, remembering the electricity running across my skin as his fingertips moved around my wound.
The burn of scotch sliding down my throat.
The heat of his touch as he marked me as his.
My hand moves to the place he burned his sigil. The skin’s still tender, and I push my feet to rise out of the bed so I can look at myself in the mirror. It still looks fresh—too fresh, and I can’t decide if I want it there… or just want to rip the skin off. No man would ever mark me.
My body is slightly shaking from the shock, but the sharp edge of it is mostly gone. Sure, it stings when I touch it, but at least the pain doesn’t radiate throughout my body any longer.
Just when I’m moments away from falling back to sleep, I hear movement in the kitchen and instantly reach for my gun in the nightstand.
Tucking it in the back of my jeans, I slowly open the door to my room, only to find Silver dropping a large pizza on my kitchen counter.
“You look like shit,” she says, hopping onto one of the two barstools by the kitchen island.
“I’ve had better days… but this isn’t my worst,” I mutter, punctuating the words because, to be honest, this doesn’t even make it into the top ten. “What are you even doing here anyway?”
“Boss named me as your legal guardian. Until you get your shit together,” she shrugs, flipping the box open.
The damn thing smells delicious.
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” I mutter, peeking to see what kind of pizza it is.
“You should be happy he decided you need a babysitter instead of a fucking bullet between your eyes,” she snaps, “I almost got in trouble because of you, pulling that dumb-ass stunt. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I don’t like wasting time.” Mostly because I don’t have time to waste with Halloween closing in. But I can’t tell her that.
“At this point, it’s either waste time or waste your life. You decide.” She arches an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. “Get your ass over here and eat something. You’ve got to be starving.” She nudges the other bar stool closer to me.
Truth is, I don’t remember eating in the last two days. At least I know for sure I didn’t eat yesterday because I went to work, and then everything went to hell.
And that pizza sure looks tempting. It’s pepperoni and cheese, my favorite. I grab a slice, ignoring any kind of conversation completely. I know she’s right, I fucked up. But what she doesn’t know is that I’m desperate.
I down like four slices of pizza along with a Coke, then head to the shower. There’s blood everywhere on me, so much that it stiffens my clothes.
The burning in the wound is still there as the water glides down my body. I try to ignore it as I run my hands through my hair, hoping that I could also ignore that throbbing sensation between my legs.
The fuck is wrong with me?
Truth be told, I never get aroused. Not easily, anyway. It takes a great amount of effort… and planets to align. And sometimes, even that’s not enough.
I shake my head, refusing to dwell on my disastrous sex life—or the complete lack of it lately—then wrap a towel around myself and go to the bedroom to change.
I walk back to the kitchen/living room/entertainment space to see Silver crashed on the small couch, watching TV.
Is that a soap opera? Jesus Christ.
“I’m ready,” I announce, hissing through my teeth to keep the slight shriek of pain from escaping me, as I step in front of the couch, blocking her view.
“Move, or sit your ass down. You’re not ready for shit,” she says, giving me one quick glance and probably noticing I’m wearing my usual work clothes.
“I’m fine. Let’s go before I’m late. My car is…” I trail off, remembering that I left my car a few blocks from the place I robbed last night.
I’ll just go grab it after my shift.
“Sit,” she repeats, annoyance strong in her voice. “Boss doesn’t want to see you until you recover. And I’m not dragging your limping ass to him before I’m sure you’re okay. He’s already pissed. I won’t risk a bullet just because you can’t follow simple fucking instructions.”
“So what the fuck am I supposed to do until then?” I snap, knowing it’ll take a least a few days until I can fully conceal any pain from my face.
“The same thing I’m going to do, since I’m your appointed babysitter. Watch TV, eat, sleep, repeat.” She says, relaxed with the thought, like this is a fucking vacation for her. A very well-paid one.
I want to argue. God, I really do, but I’m too afraid that pissing him off even more would get me fired. And judging by the fact that Silver is sitting in my living room, there’s hope I still have my job.
If Ares wanted me dead, I already would be, and Silver wouldn’t be here making sure I recover. He needs me for something. I just have to figure out what.
Having Silver around is an inconvenience I didn’t plan for.
I hid most of the evidence that could reveal that I know about the games, but not Elias’s pictures.
I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of those.
And since Silver’s taking his room, I have to go in there first and make sure she won’t find anything of his.
She did ask about the spare bedroom. Rent’s insane in Seattle, and keeping the spare bedroom around doesn’t really make financial sense.
I told her that my roommate just moved out, and that I’m looking for a smaller apartment since I don’t want anyone else living here with me.
The truth is, I just can’t let this place go.
It’s the closest thing I've ever felt to a true home, even if I’ve only been here for three years.
Plus, I painted all the walls black just to erase that sterile hospital white, and it will take a lot of money and effort to bring it back to its original color before I hand the keys to the landlord.
I set up the room for Silver after double-checking that none of Elias’s stuff is still in there.
Just his clothes. I told her that they belonged to an ex, that he’d come pick them up eventually.
She suggested I burn them. If the ex-boyfriend story was real, maybe I would.
But they belong to the only person I ever cared about.
And I can’t bring myself to let go—not yet.
It would make everything too final, like he’s truly gone.
And clinging to revenge is the only way I still feel him here with me sometimes.
He’s the only thing I have worth living for anyway.
Elias was there for me in my darkest hours. He was the bravest man I ever knew, lifting me from the ground when my feet couldn’t carry me, bringing back hope when my soul was crushed.
My chest tightens, and I know I’ll never love again. Not like this. Not with everything I have. It might not have been the kind of love you have for a boyfriend or a husband. But it was pure and stronger than any other emotion I’ve ever felt.
I’m stuck with Silver for the next few days.
Peopling has never been one of my best skills, and even if I tried to befriend her at the club, I’m not sure how to act around people.
I mean, I knew how to act around Elias, but he was just as weird as I was.
He always understood without words whether I wanted to be alone, went batshit crazy on him, or had a mental breakdown.
I had plenty of those at the start, and I’d really hoped I’d left them somewhere in my past, but after his death, they started piling up again.
I’m just changing to go down to the grocery store and get myself a drink when Silver barges into my room without knocking. I’m almost dressed, but my top’s off, and the mark on my skin is pretty much on full display.
“What the fuck is that?” She asks without moving her gaze from the mark. And before I get a chance to pull my top on, she comes closer, inspecting it.
I yank my shirt down and try to brush her off, but I know she’s already seen Ares’s symbol there, and that means she won’t back off.
“Did he… did Ares do that?” She asks, worry in her voice, and I can’t tell if it’s because she thinks it’s some kind of initiation, or because she’s never seen anything like that before.
Too late to hide anyway, and I think I need answers, so I lift my shirt and point to the center where the symbol is.
“He did it to cauterize the wound. I was bleeding and…” I don’t go on, because even I know how stupid that sounds.
There are one million other ways to close a wound.
But I don’t want to admit to her that he wanted to punish me.
Or maybe even something way worse than that.
Silver can’t hide her shock. “And he did that to you.” I guess that answers my question. I’m the only one marked as his. Which makes me wonder if this is something about loyalty and being part of his team, or something more.
I need to find out what this really means.