Burning bridges

The more they drove, the more the night stretched, the more the weight on Ares’ chest turned into something sharper, determination replacing shock. His breathing steadied. His eyes hardened.

He replayed everything from the past twenty four hours:

Tessa’s face when Marcus placed the ring on her finger.

The way her hands trembled.

The way she looked at him, not with hatred, not with triumph, but with despair.

Ares’ jaw clenched until it hurt.

Julian ...