Page 18 of Midnight Pleasure

“What do you want, Rafael?” Apollo demanded, each word precise and measured. “I see you brought Brently here?”

“You know what I want, what I have always wanted.” His grin broadened, his eyes glinting with that goading light. “Oh, and by the way, Imight have let it drop that Ares was staying up here, you know how rumors spread,” he confessed, his voice smooth and perfect, the mockery running off it.

Apollo tried to walk away, but Rafael’s hand shot out before he could, gripping his arm with a firmness that demanded attention. “Come on, Apollo,” Rafael’s voice oozed with that familiar, condescending drawl. His chin tilted toward the group of young billionaires surrounding Ares, the clinking of glasses and clatter of conversation filling the air. “He fits right in, doesn’t he? With his own kind. You know as well as I do, Apollo—he doesn’t belong here, with you. He’s the wealthy elite, and you…you’re just a mountain hick.”

The words cut deep, but Apollo didn’t let that show. He simply yanked his arm free of Rafael’s grip—the force behind the action was more than physical. Apollo would not let Rafael’s words crack his skin or let Rafael dictate how this all played out—not anymore. “Perhaps so,” he added calmly, but a biting edge had crept into his words. “But at least I know who I am. Can you say the same?”

Rafael grinned until the end, when his smile faltered for a heartbeat. That moment was enough. Apollo held his gaze, unflinching, letting the silence stretch between them, saddled with all that remained unspoken. Rafael created chaos, but Apollo wouldn’t let him destroy what he had built with Ares without some fight.

The smirk settling back onto his face like an old, comfortable mask. Rafael recovered quickly. “Oh, I know exactly who I am, Apollo. The difference is that I’m not pretending to be something I’m not.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper for Apollo’s ears alone. “You can wear your hero suit all you like, but we both know how this end. Ares isn’t going to stick around waiting for your hayseed sweet talk forever. He’ll think he’s too good for this place, too good for you, and when he does…well, you better not say that I didn’t warn you.”

Anger, as the emotion simmered beneath the surface, but he curbed it, refusing to rise to the bait. He merely locked eyes with Rafael, something quiet and determined in the gaze. “You’re right, Rafael. I’m not pretending. But you’ve been playing games for so long that you wouldn’t recognize something real even if it hit you square in the face.”

Rafael’s expression hardened, his smirk becoming frail at the corners. “We’ll see about that,” he countered, a challenge woven into his tone. “Just don’t be surprised when he decides to walk away, Apollo,” he warned, hinting at the possibility.

“You can’t bully me anymore, Rafael,” he spat, his voice dripping with measured confidence that sliced through the tension like a sharp knife. “I’m the one who left you, remember? I was nineteen when we met, and you tried to control every part of my life since then. That’s why I joined the service—to get the hell away from you. But then my mom died, and I was weak. I fell back into your arms, but I’m not weak anymore. I haven’t been for a long time. So, stop fucking with me.”

Rafael’s eyes blackened, his suave confidence splintering just a bit. “Is that so?” He hissed, striding closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “You talk a big game, Apollo, but we both know how this end. How it always ends. You’ll come crawling back…just like you always have.”

Apollo didn’t back down. Heat radiated off Rafael, the barely contained aggression simmering beneath his polished exterior. But Apollo knew himself, knew his own strength, and he wasn’t about to let Rafael push him around.

“We’re not the same,” Apollo replied quietly, his voice laced with controlled fury. “You think you can break me, bend me to your will? I didn’t bend, and I didn’t break.”

Rafael’s expression flickered with annoyance, his eyes narrowing as he realized he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted.

“You really think you’re better than me, don’t you?” He belittled, his voice tinged with contempt. “But here’s the thing, Apollo—you can play the noble act all you want, but everyone has a price at the end of the day. Even you. Even he.”

Rafael pointed toward Ares again, laughing and taking shots with Brently, unaware of the tension crackling across the room.

Cold fury pierced Apollo’s stoic exterior as his gaze hardened, revealing a newfound strength.

“Rafael, you have no idea about who I really am. My life is not yours to dictate,” he firmly declared.

A sharp sigh of exasperation escaped Rafael, combined with a quiet ‘tsk-tsk,’ which clung tenaciously to the edge of his breath, probably betraying the growing irritation he was failing at concealing. His voice slick with hostility, smooth as silk but infinitely cutting.

“Tread lightly, Apollo.” I know the violence that moves inside of you. We both know how this will end. Ares belongs to his own kind; people like Brently and me, who know how to play the game, not to some primitive mountain hick who doesn’t even know his place.”

The words cut through him like a taunt, velvet-wrapped in a threat. That familiar burn started in his chest again—old anger he had buried long ago boiling back to the surface. Yet he stood still, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Rafael’s gaze. He wouldn’t give the satisfaction of a reaction—not just yet. The storm could wait for now.

Motionless, his voice remained firm and resolute. “I’m not afraid of you. You definitely don’t frighten Ares. You can never claim me as yours again, no matter what you do. Not in the present, not in the future.”

The words hung between them, thick with the threat of what would come. Apollo knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. But he also knew that, for the first time, he was ready for whatever fight Rafael was bringing.

It took him a bit to notice Brent’s mocking voice hailing him. “Oh, help. We need another round of drinks.” He bristled at the tone.

“Run little dog; that’s all you will ever be, Apollo. You think you can protect him, but you have no power or money.”

Chapter 9: All Roads Lead To Foggy Basin

As Ares stumbled forward, he struggled to maintain his balance, the alcohol impairing his senses. "Brently, don't," he slurred, every word too slow, too weak to bite through the taut tension electrifying the air. Frantic, he reached out, trying to grab Brently's arm to pull him back from that edge, but Brently shrugged him off with a flick, barely acknowledging the effort. The distance between them had felt insurmountable; an unbreachable chasm widened with every fleeting second.

He had not expected things to get so out of hand so fast. He laughed for a moment, trying to suppress a gnawing feeling of anxiety in his gut by having another drink.

"You think you can just walk in here and take whatever strikes your fancy?" Apollo's voice was low and dangerous, every word laced with simmering rage that sent a shiver racing down Ares's spine. He stepped closer to Brently, his posture tense and coiled like a spring. "Ares isn't some toy for you to discard at will."

Brently's smile thinned, his eyes glinting with a predatory light as he leaned in, closing the space between them. The challenge was evident, unmistakable in the air.

"And what are you going to do about it, Apollo?" Brently’s voice flowed smoothly, slick as oil, but beneath that polished surface lurked an unforgiving steel edge—sharp and unyielding. He wasn't used to challenges, certainly not from a man like Apollo. "You think you can stop me?

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