Poppy hesitates, then glances back at me with soft curiosity. “I don’t mean to pry, but… why didn’t you bring Sebastian? Or even Liam?”
Branches snap under my boots as I keep walking.
“They were preoccupied,” I answer at first, but even Poppy’s naive optimism can’t swallow that half-truth.
Ares doesn’t bother to cushion the blow. “She’s being modest,” he says, voice dropping into a silken mockery. “They accused her of lying. She didn’t like it. That’s what happens when you surround yourself with little boys who haven’t grown into their own damn shadows.”
My reaction is instant. “They’re more of a man than you’ll ever be.”
He stops walking.
The forest goes silent.
Even the leaves stop rustling.
Ares turns slowly, the map folding into his fist as he looks at me fully, none of the usual smirk, none of the detached amusement. Something darker moves behind his eyes. Something that feels like the moment before lightning splits a tree in half.
“Say that again,” he murmurs, voice stripped of its usualtaunting edge. Just quiet, lethal focus. “Say it while I’m looking at you.”
Confusion flickers through me. “What?”
He takes one step forward. Then another. His tone cuts through the shrinking space between us.
“Don’t throw little barbs over your shoulder and walk away. You have something to say about me, Whitlock?” His gaze drags down my expression like he’s memorizing every twitch. “Say it to my face. Or don’t say it at all.”
Air thickens around us, damp and heated at the same time. My heartbeat thrums against my ribs hard enough that I swear he hears it. I meet his stare, but whatever boldness sparked earlier burns down to something unsteady now. Not fear. Not entirely. Just… too much of everything layered together.
“You’re-”
The words catch.
I falter.
My throat tightens.
“I’m not doing this with you,” I manage, hating the way my voice betrays its heat.
A slow, sharp smile curves his mouth, not playful, not cruel. Just knowing.
I push past him, snatching the map from his fingers. His body doesn’t move, but I feel his stare track me like he’s marking every step I take away from him.
He mutters something under his breath, something about “needing a break anyway” but his gaze lingers long enough for heat to crawl up my spine.
Poppy clears her throat, desperate to defuse the tension. “How long have you two known each other?”
I let out a dry laugh. “I met him a few days ago, right after he threatened to kill me in Anavris.”
Her smile freezes.
She waits for the punchline.
Realizes too late there isn’t one.
Ares doesn’t correct me.
Doesn’t offer excuses.
Doesn’t soften a thing.
