“I know they’re my things. What I don’t understand is what they’re doing here.”
“You mentioned once you need your hair straightener,” he shrugs as if he hadn’t already bought me one the second I opened my mouth.
“Yeah, well, this isn’t just a hair straightener…” I stop, letting him feel in the gaps.
“I thought maybe you needed something else,” he shrugs again, like for any other object I needed, one didn’t magically appear out of nowhere, or he didn’t have a man grab it the next second.
“What’s going on?” I press, knowing he’s deflecting.
But he responds with a laugh that sounds like some sort ofokay, I give up.
“You, idiot, get the rest of the things into the house,” his signals Ian, then turns to look at me. “Get your shoes on. I have something I want to show you.”
“Another surprise besides my hair straightener. I don’t think my poor heart can handle it.”
“Are you coming, or not?” he mutters, already at the door.
At least something interesting is happening, and he’s letting me out of the house.
I rush to put on my sneakers and a jacket, then follow him outside, where he waits for me to help me down the stairs. I don’t need help anymore, but if it makes him feel better, okay…
He opens the passenger door, and I can’t help but internally smile, knowing he’s much more gentle with me than he is with anyone else on this planet.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he starts the engine.
“You’ll find out when we get there,” he says, like this is some big secret and I’m not gonna find out anyway.
I don’t ask again because I know him well enough by now. He won’t answer. As we drive through the street, I start recognizing buildings. This is the path of my old life, to the apartment I shared with Elias after we escaped.
Are there any boxes left? I don’t really understand.
But as we drive to my old apartment building, I notice a very big change. Crumbling brick used to cover the whole exterior. Now it seems recently renovated with fresh red brick. New windows, too, and polished mirrors in the front entrance. The metal door, perpetually hanging off its hinges, has been replaced by glass double doors.
Ares parks directly in front, right next to a no-parking sign that he ignores. I’ve noticed that when it comes to him, doing the wrong thing is some kind of guilty pleasure.
But this is different. And I’m not stupid. “You bought it?” I ask, realizing this is too much of a coincidence.
I push the car door open before he can reach it. I’m not willing to be treated like an invalid despite my wounds.
We find ourselves side-by-side, staring up at the newly transformed building.
“Why?” I ask, my voice shakier than I planned.
“Let’s go inside,” he says, taking my hand, guiding me up the stairs, slow enough so I can follow.
Everything inside has been renovated, the linoleum floor has been replaced with tile, and the place is much brighter than it used to be. But something catches my eye. Right beside theelevator, which now actually works, since I see the lights going up. A small bronze plaque.
My breath stops as I read the engraving:
HELL’s HEAVEN
In memory of Elias Richardson
My knees threaten to buckle, and tears build in my eyes. “What is this place now?” I manage to ask, but my voice is hoarse from holding back.
“A refuge,” he simply says, “for people who have nowhere else to go. Abandoned teens. Single mothers. People desperate for a second chance.”
I stare at him like I’m trying to fully process the information, trying to understand what the man before me—the God of War who ripped a man limb by limb in front of me less than a month ago—has to do with anything that he’s describing.
