2025-07-14 08:44:25The rain didn’t stop.It hammered the rusted gutters as Ares and Mira stepped out of the ghost print shop.The alley swallowed them like a secret.Water trickled down Ares’s collar, soaking the scars that ran like old maps under his skin.He didn’t flinch.The cold only reminded him he was alive.Mira lit the cigarette she’d been rolling all night.The flame hissed in the downpour, but she cupped it until the tip glowed angry orange.She took a drag, exhaled smoke that danced with the steam rising from the street.Her bruised eye looked worse under neon, but her mouth twisted into a grin when she caught Ares staring.“Don’t say it,” she muttered.Ares said nothing.He pushed ahead, boots splashing through oily puddles.Behind them, Jonas Lin’s muffled sobs faded into the hiss of rain.They’d left him breathing, but breath didn’t mean mercy.Not anymore.They reached the SUV.Mira flicked her cigarette into the gutter, the ember dying with a soft hiss.She opened the passenger door, but Ares didn’t get in.He stood by the hood, pulling the burner phone from his coat.The screen glowed pale blue against his rough hands.Petrov’s accounts flickered at him, numbers tied to blood and dirt.“You think he’ll run?” Mira asked, sliding into her seat.Ares’s jaw tensed.“He’ll fortify first.Petrov’s too arrogant to run.He thinks the old guard still shields him.”
“And do they?”
Ares slid behind the wheel, the leather creaking under his weight.He turned the ignition.The engine groaned awake.“Not after tonight.Not after I drag their skeletons into daylight.”
Mira smirked.She cracked the window, letting rain mist her cheek.“Where’s the vault?”
Ares held up the drive.“According to Jonas?Downtown.Old textile mill.Petrov buried his money under abandoned looms and rust.Poetic.”
Mira snorted.“Fits him.Dirt and silk.”
They pulled out of the alley.The tires hissed over wet asphalt.The city drifted by in streaks of neon and broken glass.Somewhere a siren wailed—too far, too late.Ares’s knuckles whitened on the wheel.His reflection in the cracked rearview was all shadow and flame.Mira watched him from the corner of her eye.She remembered the first time she’d seen him like this—years back, digging himself from that shallow grave.Eyes feral.Breath like fire in the frost.She’d sworn then to never look away, no matter what monster stared back.“You ready to bleed for this?” she asked softly.Ares didn’t look at her.“I’ve been bleeding since they buried me.Tonight, we make them remember why they should’ve finished the job.”
The textile mill squatted on the city’s edge like a cancer no one bothered to cut out.Fences sagged under years of rust.Windows gaped like broken teeth.A single security light flickered near the main gate, its buzz louder than the storm.Ares killed the headlights a block away.The SUV coasted to a stop behind a dead delivery truck.Mira checked her pistol, chambered a round with a quiet snap.Ares checked his too, thumb brushing the scratched slide.No words passed between them—they’d spoken enough in other lives, in other wars.They slipped out into the storm.Mira’s boots sank in muddy gravel.Ares moved ahead, ghosting through the fence gap Jonas’s files had mapped.Two guards stood near the gate, rain ponchos flapping like wet flags.One smoked, oblivious.The other scrolled his phone, thumb dancing over bright gossip.Ares signaled.Mira melted into shadows, flanking left.The wind swallowed her steps.The smoker turned, eyes squinting into the dark.He saw nothing—just the black maw of the fence.He never saw Ares’s fist until it cracked his jaw sideways, silencing the shout in his throat.The second guard fumbled his phone, mouth shaping a curse.Mira’s blade whispered across his neck.He folded gently into the mud.They dragged the bodies behind a rusted drum.Mira wiped her blade on the guard’s poncho.“Subtle,” she whispered.Ares’s mouth twitched.“Not here for subtle.”
Inside, the mill reeked of mold and machine oil.Old looms loomed like skeletons in the dark.Metal catwalks spiderwebbed overhead.Ares led them through the maze, ears straining past the storm’s growl.Somewhere above, muffled voices traded bored jokes—Petrov’s dogs, guarding the bones of his empire.They reached a metal stairwell.Ares held up a hand.Mira crouched beside him, pistol ready.Footsteps thumped above—heavy boots, careless.Two men appeared at the landing, rifles slung low.Their eyes glazed from cheap vodka.They didn’t even see the shadows waiting.Ares moved first, exploding up the steps.His shoulder slammed one man into the railing.The other swung his rifle up, but Mira’s shot barked once—clean through the eye.He toppled backward, boots scraping metal.The other tried to scream.Ares’s elbow crushed his windpipe before the sound left his mouth.Blood pooled on cold steel.Mira stepped over it like a dancer avoiding a puddle.“Noise is gonna wake the wolves.”
Ares checked the dead man’s pockets—keycard, crumpled bills, a cheap lighter.He pocketed the card.“Let them come.”
The vault door lurked behind a reinforced wall near the mill’s gutted office.A single guard slouched outside, half-asleep, assault rifle across his lap.Mira watched him through a broken window.Her breath fogged the glass.“Loud?”
Ares nodded.Mira shot once.The guard’s head snapped back.He slumped sideways, rifle clattering.Ares stepped over the body, slid the stolen keycard.The vault door’s green light winked approval.Heavy bolts shuddered open.Inside, rows of lockboxes and digital safes lined concrete walls.Bundles of foreign cash lay like fat snakes under flickering bulbs.Flash drives, ledgers, passports—evidence of a lifetime’s betrayal.Mira gave a low whistle.“Petrov’s sins, neat and tidy.”
Ares opened a lockbox, flipping through stacks of fresh bills.He tossed them aside.“Not here for paper.”
He found what he needed in a fireproof case—photos.Contracts.Names linked to deaths never solved.Politicians, judges, officers—all complicit.Petrov’s poison, distilled into paper cuts and bank codes.Ares stuffed them into his pack.Thunder cracked overhead like the sky itself wanted this filth gone.Mira glanced at him, the shadows softening around her bruised eye.“This burns him down?”
Ares zipped the pack shut.“This buries him alive.”
Footsteps thundered outside—Petrov’s men, woken by the storm inside the mill.Mira cocked her pistol, eyes gleaming.Ares chambered a round, his smile a ghost’s grin.“Quiet or loud?” Mira asked.Ares leveled his gun at the door.The handle rattled.“Loud.”
When the door burst inward, the war they’d promised swallowed the dark whole.
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ASH IN THE VEINS
The steel slab still stood at the western ridgeline when Ares returned at midday. The sun was higher now, carving the message deeper into the scorched metal with every flicker of heat. He didn’t touch it. Didn’t have to. The words were burned behind his eyes.We are not your past. We are your consequence.He stood there a moment longer, wind tugging at the collar of his coat, the dry scent of dust and burnt wire rising from the earth. Reyes approached from behind, silent, until the crunch of his boots gave him away.“They’re not just warning us,” he said. “They’re staging something. Making a show of memory.”Ares nodded slowly. “And calling it justice.”Reyes looked out toward the hills. “You think it’s just Vale?”“No.” Ares didn’t blink. “I think it’s what Vale left behind. A creed. A code. A wound still bleeding after all this time.”Reyes crossed his arms. “I’ve buried too many men to be haunted by ghosts.”Ares looked at him. “Then start digging again. Because this war... it didn
THOSE WHO REMEMBER
Because now, they had something worth defending.And for Ares Kai - the man who once lived only to destroy - that made him more dangerous than ever.The rooftop wind brushed over him, sharp with the chill of dusk but filled with the scent of food cooking in shared courtyards and the murmur of distant laughter. It was the kind of night that made a man forget, if only for a moment, how much blood had stained his past.But forgetting wasn’t an option.Mira stood at his side in silence. Her hand had long since slipped from his, but her presence hadn’t. She leaned against the railing, watching the city breathe. Her eyes were calm, but her voice, when it came, held a quiet weight.“Do you think they’ll come here? The ones watching?”He didn’t answer right away.Then, “Not yet. But they’ve taken notice.”She tilted her head. “Of you?”“No,” he said. “Of us.”Mira glanced back at the glowing blocks of Lin City - at the rebuilt shelters, the lights flickering in the old Assembly Hall, the hum
THE WEIGHT OF STILLNESS
Ares didn’t move.He sat by Elijah’s bedside long after the boy had turned back into sleep, his small hands tucked beneath his cheek, his breaths soft and untroubled. The notebook lay closed beside them - those sketches still etched into Ares’ mind.That last drawing... the three of them standing beneath a sun not yet drawn. No smoke. No sirens. No shadows clawing at the edge of their peace. Just presence.Ares leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, his head buried in his hands. His back ached from old wounds. His fingers were calloused from war. But none of that compared to the pressure behind his ribs now - the unfamiliar weight of not having to fight.Outside, the windowpane rattled gently in the breeze. There was no storm tonight. No cries. No coded transmissions. Just wind brushing across the roof and the distant clatter of tools as the early workers began their shifts.Mira’s door was still ajar across the hall, warm light spilling through the gap. He could have gone to her
EMBERS AND ROOTS
Mira didn’t move for a long time.She sat cross-legged on the floor, her arms resting on her knees, eyes fixed on the sleeping boy and the man beside him. The only sound was the low hum of the generator outside and the steady breath of a child who finally, finally, had no reason to be afraid.Ares didn’t speak either. He leaned back against the wall, knees bent, one hand resting protectively near Elijah’s shoulder, the other slack on his thigh. Every now and then, his eyes flickered open - checking, listening - but the tension he used to wear like armor had softened into something else.Stillness.Not weakness. Not surrender.Just the absence of running.Mira eventually pushed herself up, bones stiff, and moved to sit beside Ares. He shifted slightly, making room, careful not to wake the boy.They didn’t touch - not yet. But their shoulders were close enough to share warmth.“You should sleep too,” she murmured.“I will,” Ares said. “Just... not yet.”She nodded.A long breath passed
THE PROMISE OF STAYING
The Assembly Hall was quiet the next morning.Not silent - there were distant boots on tile, quiet murmurs of volunteers laying cables and pinning up maps -but the kind of quiet that came after storms. The kind you earned. Ares stood near the north-facing window, watching as the mist lifted off the shattered rooftops of Lin City.Behind him, Elijah tugged at his sleeve.“Is this where they argue?” he asked.Ares smirked. “Sometimes. Mostly, they try to listen.”Elijah nodded solemnly, like that was harder.The boy wore a scarf too big for him and boots slightly too worn. His hair still stuck up in wild tufts from sleep, and he held The Little Prince under one arm like it was a secret weapon. Ares rested a steady hand on his son’s back as they stepped inside.Some of the council members were already seated. Kara gave a quick wave. The woman from the South End was bouncing her baby with one hand and flipping through ration figures with the other. Hawk stood by the coffee dispenser, pour
THE WEIGHT OF PEACE
The Assembly Hall was quiet the next morning.Not silent - there were distant boots on tile, quiet murmurs of volunteers laying cables and pinning up maps - but the kind of quiet that came after storms. The kind you earned. Ares stood near the north-facing window, watching as the mist lifted off the shattered rooftops of Lin City.Behind him, Elijah tugged at his sleeve.“Is this where they argue?” he asked.Ares smirked. “Sometimes. Mostly, they try to listen.”Elijah nodded solemnly, like that was harder.The boy wore a scarf too big for him and boots slightly too worn. His hair still stuck up in wild tufts from sleep, and he held The Little Prince under one arm like it was a secret weapon. Ares rested a steady hand on his son’s back as they stepped inside.Some of the council members were already seated. Kara gave a quick wave. The woman from the South End was bouncing her baby with one hand and flipping through ration figures with the other. Hawk stood by the coffee dispenser, pou
