He takes a step forward. His gaze never leaves mine. No warning, but the knife in his hand is warning enough.
Without warning, his arm shoots out sharply. A violent impact shakes my stomach like a dull punch. My body staggers from the blow, but nothing makes sense. Then, I look down.
I see it. The blade plunged into my flesh. Blood spilling out, staining my shirt a deep red.
That’s when the pain hits—brutal, tearing, like an unbearable burn spreading through my abdomen. Vertigo swamps me, and my legs threaten to give out. The shock numbs me, stopping me from reacting or fighting back.
“Why?” I whisper.
He tilts his head, expression unreadable.
“I’m saving your life,” he simply replies before stepping even closer.
I’m stunned. Nothing makes sense. My mind can’t piece it together. I can only stare at the handle sticking out of my stomach.
“You’ll understand soon enough,” he continues before placing his hands on my shoulders.
The pain sharpens. The pressure makes me stagger, and I lose my balance. My arms flail, desperately searching for support, but it’s too late. I fall heavily onto the dusty platform floor. The impact knocks the air from my lungs before a bright light explodes in my head.
Everything burns, tears me apart, electrifies me. But it’s my mind that stops working properly. I can’t even open my eyes, but a smell of urine invades my nostrils. From the floor… or maybe I’ve let go. Either way, I no longer feel anything solid.
They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. In truth, I briefly think of my family back in Alaska. My parents. My brothers. That little village where I grew up. The moment is fleeting. After I ran away to build a better life, contact faded. They never understood my need for freedom. Those images vanish behind my eyelids.
What follows is both surprising and inevitable. I don’t relive the timeline of my life or the key moments that shaped it. I only see one face. The most beautiful face I’ve ever had the chance to behold. Black hair, equally dark eyes, a sharply defined jaw marked by a scar on the cheek.
I feel his hand glide gently down my spine before he presses a kiss on my own scar.
I feel the needle of his tattoo machine etch into my skin, offering me a piece of freedom.
These memories of Arès eclipse everything else, erasing the pain in my head. The urge to push them away vanishes. The walls I carefully built crumble one by one, revealing what I always knew.
I’m bound to Arès. In a way I never thought possible.
Even though he hurt me, my heart belongs to him. Even though he loves another and I’ll never be enough for him, my heart refuses to think rationally. I’m his because he transformed me, breathed new hope into my life.
At least I managed to save him. My escape kept him alive, and now I have to sacrifice mine. Such heroism. I guess there are worse reasons to die.
Gradually, I accept it. It’s okay to go.
In the distance, I hear the soothing click-clack of train wheels. The sound pulls me into a trance. Suddenly, the pain fades, pushed to the background. A comforting warmth wraps around me. The wheels stop rumbling, along with every other noise. Silence reigns.
Is this the end?
For the first time in a long while, I feel deep peace. I’m no longer afraid. The chaos in my mind dissolves, and I focus on the memory of Arès.
But his face blurs, fading into a hazy mist. I try to scream for him to stay with me, but no sound comes out. I want to reach out, but even my fingers won’t move.
Everything goes black.
I’m in darkness.
Nothing else exists.
CHAPTER 14
ARÈS
I try to focus on the sketch in front of me. Drawing usually helps. It silences all the thoughts gnawing at my mind. But today… it’s different. Everything is different.