Chapter Two
Helios
Twenty Years Ago.
Pulling into the elementary school parking lot, seeing the little prick grab her arm as she tried to walk away from him, I gunned it into a space and threw the old truck into Park. “Oh, hell fucking no.”
“Helios,” Ares warned.
I was already out of the truck, engine left running, as I stormed across the schoolyard.
Ares caught up to me right as my fist sailed. “Helios, stop—”
My first punch hit the fucker dead center in his face.
Blood gushed. The bullying prick wailed like a pussy, my stepsister cowered, and I gave Ares orders.
“Grab Feralyn and get her in the truck.” She didn’t need to see me beat the shit out of this asshole. There was also that whole other issue.
Ares could touch her. I couldn’t.
The girl still cowered from me like she did when she was that little kid in a party dress at a bullshit wedding with bruises on her arms.
I was still fucking pissed about those.
Ares took her hand, and she let him, just like she always had. Except this time, he put his whole damn arm around her and whispered in her ear. Fucker was her security blanket.
I took on another role.
While Ares played hero, I beat the shit outta anyone who touched her. Today was no different. This little prick was going down.
My second punch, harder than the first, was already making contact with the asshole’s rib cage.
Then I let loose. The crack of bone sounded, and his pathetic cry cut off mid-wail as I really fucking hit him.
The prick was such a damn pussy, the fight wasn’t even satisfying.
“Touch Feralyn again, and you’re fucking dead.
” Two teachers and the SRO Sheriff came running toward us. “You fucking hear me?”
The pussy, lying on the ground, bleeding from his nose, clutching his stomach, didn’t answer. He cried like a baby.
“I said…” I kicked him. “Do you…” I kicked again. “Fucking hear me?”
“Freeze!” the SRO yelled.
Fuck the Sheriff. And fuck this grade-school prick.
“You touch her again, you’re dead.” Backing up, glare amped to threat, I yelled at the SRO, “Where the fuck have you been? This guy assaulted one of your students.” I knew the goddamn language.
“A female student who’s half his size and grades younger.
Check your security footage.” Lazy fucking dick.
“You’ll be hearing from our father’s attorneys. ” I turned toward the truck.
“Stop right there!” the SRO warned.
I didn’t listen.
I never fucking listened to bullshit from bullshit adults, especially when it came to the girl. Stepsister. Fuck. Whatever.
I got back in the truck, peeled out of the lot, passed an incoming ambulance with sirens going, and drove a mile away from the fucking school before I allowed myself to glance at them.
Ares and the girl. Huddled.
I swallowed down rage. “She okay?”
Ares looked up. If you didn’t know him, you’d think his expression was blank.
It wasn’t fucking blank.
And she wasn’t fucking okay.
I pulled the truck over, threw it in Park, and put my arm across the bench seat. Then I clipped out the command that was the only damn way the girl let me get close. “Come here, Feralyn.”
She flinched.
But then she scooted.
Away from Ares, across the seat, and under my arm.
Then she leaned against my side.
My hand landed on her breakable little shoulder, and I tried not to think about that prick grabbing her as I took a stupid-ass breath to calm the hell down. “You okay?” I didn’t feel any calmer, but at least my voice and tone didn’t sound like I was mad at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. That little fu—” Shit. “That little prick is another story. He had it coming. How long has he been bothering you?”
She shrank against me.
Before I could open my mouth, Ares beat me to it.
“It’s okay. You can tell us.”
Her head tilted up, and she stared at me with that look. The same one she’d been giving me since that stupid fucking wedding. Like she needed permission to speak. Except now, it was like she wanted my permission.
I should’ve fucking discouraged this shit. Told her she didn’t need me or Ares around to use her voice or stick up for herself.
But I didn’t.
I nodded.
She glanced at Ares. “A while.”
My hands fisted. “What’s a while?”
Her head dropped, and her voice went fuck-my-life-up quiet. “Since September.”
“All fucking school year?” I roared, throwing the truck back into gear. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker!”
A small-as-shit hand landed on my arm. Then her voice—that voice—hit. “Helios.”
I fucking paused, but I didn’t look at her. “What?”
“You need to pick up Christie.”
I took a breath. Then another. “Yeah.” Christie. My girlfriend. At least as far as they were concerned. In reality, she was just another chick I screwed around with. I looked down at the girl. “So?”
Those weird-ass whiskey-colored eyes, or amber according to the internet when I’d looked that shit up—whatever the hell color they were—they stared at me like I could do no wrong. But she was also looking at me with fear. “You told Christie yesterday that you were picking her up from work.”
I didn’t need a kid to remind me what I did with my fucking hookups. “Your point?” Twenty-three more months, I silently chanted.
Twenty-three months, and I’d be property of the US Army.
Two fucking years and this routine, this truck, her stares, her voice, it’d all be Ares’s problem.
I wanted to simultaneously beat the fuck out of my brother for not being more protective of her and be able to take a damn breath without worrying that I had to protect both of them.
Hell, I wanted a breath that didn’t include Feralyn Alva Grayson.
And I wanted to legally shoot shit—after I became a Ranger.