Ares’s POV

The rain had been falling since dawn — cold, relentless, the kind that seeps into bone. The city looked washed-out through the car window, skyscrapers blurred by fog and memory.

I hadn’t slept. Neither had Alina. She sat beside me, quiet, her hand resting on mine as we drove through the gates of the correctional facility. Her touch was the only thing that kept me grounded.

The storm outside felt appropriate. Some storms were meant to cleanse. Others, to confront.

This one ...