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Because he’d gotten the closest.
The anguish of that truth shook my entire body, and it took me a moment to realize how close Ares had gotten.
“He didn’t know,” he said, locking eyes with me. His held a shine to them, one he squeezed away before hunkering down with me. “I told no one. Not my parents.” His Adam’s apple shifted. “Not the boys. Not D.”
Not D.
“He didn’t know, Sloane.” Ares brought his hands together. “The night you found that file, the file I’d made about you, was when I told Dorian, Wells, and Thatch. They didn’t know before that, and my parents found out not long after. I told them too. Basically, right after.”
He didn’t… know?
I didn’t understand.
“Why?” I ached, my insides searing. “Why did you lie? Why did you do that?”
“Because I fucked up.” His breathing was harsh. “I fucked up because I was scared, and though I knew who you were, I didn’t know you. I didn’t, and I needed to protect my family. My parents, the guys and their families...” His shoulders sagged. “And you too.”
This didn’t make sense, any of it.
Ares rubbed his mouth. “The only thing I knew about you was the company you kept.” He glanced my way. “You were hanging around with that Callum, and I didn’t know if you were trapped. You could have been up to shit with him and trying to screw our families. Up to shit with him.”
With him.
I closed my eyes, the chills enveloping me again. I wished I didn’t know what he meant. I wished I didn’t know the truth.
But I did.
I knew so many things now. Because so much had changed, so many truths revealed.
“Callum…”
“You mean Dorian’s grandfather?” I asked, and Ares blinked. My throat worked. “Callum Prinze?”
The words rang in the air, loud, vibrant.
But then so much silence.
They ghosted off into the night and completely froze both of us.
Ares leaned forward. “He told you then?” His legs lowered. “Told you the truth? He said he did.”
He’d spoken to him? “He talked to you?”
“He reached out to the families, yeah. He said he told you the truth, and you ran after.” Ares’s hand gripped his wrist. “Before tonight, I thought that was why you ran.” He rocked a little. “But now, I’m feeling like a lot of that had to do with me. Me and my lies.”
Lies. Lies. Lies.
So many, and they all made me sick. People lying to me.
“Did he ever hurt you? You or Bru, or…” He studied me. “Anything like that?”
He felt the need to ask, and that made sense. I hated it made sense.
How had this become my life?
How was I here and in a world where people told you lies, and truths weren’t the norm?
“Sloane, please if you don’t tell me anything else just let me know he didn’t hurt you. Let me know that you were okay, and that he never—”
