The energy around him was negative tonight, and I knew it was bothering him.
He took off his blazer and laid it across the chair by the door.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“I was waiting.”
He walked toward the window, hands resting in his pockets.
“It’s done.”
That was enough.
I didn’t ask for details.
I never did.
When your family lives in a world like ours, you learn very early that some truths are better left between a man and God.
I crossed the room slowly and placed my hand gently on his shoulder.
“You did what had to be done.”
He didn’t answer right away.
“I know you know that Marcel gave me a list,” he said after a moment.
“Yes.”
“I started it tonight. With Sir.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Lord, have mercy on us.
He turned slightly toward me.
“You know the kind of people on that list?”
I nodded. “I do.”
His voice dropped lower. “Predators.”
My son had always hated them.
Even as a boy.
He had a fury for men who hurt children that burned hotter than anything else in him.
Which was exactly why Marcel had given him that responsibility. To me, it was cruel to give my baby that kind of responsibility, but only he could execute it.
“Then you did God’s work tonight,” I said lowly.
Ares let out a slow breath. “Maybe.”
I walked toward the small cabinet near the prayer table and opened the drawer.
Inside sat a small bottle of oil.
