…but Ares could still hear the teeth in the dark.It wasn’t imagination, not fatigue, not the phantom sounds of battle ringing in his skull. It was the city itself speaking—groaning under the weight of footsteps that hadn’t yet reached their door, engines growling just out of sight, the way predators circle before they strike.He didn’t move from the window. The glass was cracked in the corner, distorting the lamplight outside into jagged fragments. It reminded him too much of a sniper scope. Too much of nights spent staring through crosshairs, waiting for the breath between heartbeats.Behind him, the safehouse was quiet again. The freed prisoners lay in the cellar, wrapped in makeshift bedding, exhaustion dragging them under despite the threat pressing closer. Hawk snored softly against the wall, his shotgun balanced across his knees like a child’s toy. Reyes had finally drifted into uneasy sleep at the table, his hand still wrapped around a half-empty canteen. Mira hadn’t slept. He

The forest clung to its silence as they pushed east, every step damp with the memory of last night’s rain. Ares led, his frame cutting a path through the dripping underbrush, every sense alert. Hawk limped behind, jaw tight but unyielding, and Mira carried Elijah with a steadiness that spoke more of will than strength. The boy slept on, head tucked against her shoulder, the only soft thing in a world that had gone hard.They moved quickly, but not blindly. Every sound mattered - the crack of a branch, the low sigh of wind through leaves, even the drip of water from moss. To Ares, it was all part of the same language, and in it, he heard what most men missed. The Guard was near.Not on the trail. Not obvious. But there - circling, probing, waiting. Wolves in uniform, teeth hidden but ready to show.By midday, the forest thinned into a stretch of ravine. Ares slowed, raising a hand. Hawk stopped, leaning into a tree, breath rough. Mira shifted Elijah carefully, eyes following Ares. She

Ares did not lower the blade. His chest rose and fell, each breath measured against the silence that followed the commander’s retreat. Blood soaked the side of his shirt, but his eyes remained fixed on the darkness where the Guard had vanished. Hawk leaned heavy against a toppled cart, his staff slick with blood not all his own. Mira stood in the doorway, Elijah pressed to her chest, her lips trembling with words she did not speak.The square smelled of smoke and iron. Bodies lay scattered - torches still burning in dead hands. The first wave had come like thunder. The second had pressed harder. And now, in the quiet after, Ares knew this was no victory. It was an announcement.“They’ll regroup,” Hawk rasped. He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Men like that don’t retreat unless they’re told to.”Ares sheathed the knife in silence. His hands were steady though his ribs screamed fire. “Then he’s watching. Testing.”Mira’s voice was soft, but it carried. “And what

The air burned before the bullets did.Ares stood at the base of the ridge, alone, his breath misting in the chill dawn while smoke from the burning treeline curled around him. His coat hung heavy with dew and dried blood, but his posture - unyielding, shoulders squared - made him look like something more than flesh. The scarred commander’s soldiers had seen men before. They had not seen this. That was why their trigger fingers hesitated, why the first volley felt clumsy, why the valley itself seemed to draw a long, shaking breath.Above, Mira’s arms were wrapped tight around Elijah. The boy stirred, frightened by the thunder that cracked through the air, his small fists knotting into her coat. She kissed his hair with trembling lips, whispering words she didn’t even believe: It’s okay… you’re safe… it’s okay… Her voice broke on the last word.Her eyes wouldn’t leave the valley. No matter how her soul screamed to turn away, to spare herself the sight of him walking into death, she cou

The dawn’s roar still trembled through the valley long after Ares’s voice had cracked the silence. His breath tore from his chest in ragged bursts, each inhale dragging fire through his lungs, each exhale spilling blood down his lips. The world seemed to tilt, the ground threatening to rip him from his feet. But still - still - he stood.The soldiers froze at the sight. Not because the gunfire had stopped, not because the smoke hung heavy like a shroud, but because the man they thought would break was refusing to. They had seen men die on their feet before. But they had never seen a man live on them this long.And it shook them.On the ridge, Mira clutched Elijah tighter, her throat raw from screaming his name. Her son trembled against her chest, his small fists knotted in her sleeve. She could barely breathe, torn between the agony of watching him fall and the impossible hope of watching him endure. Every fiber of her being screamed to run to him. But Reyes’s words still shackled her