Page 25 of The Last War We Ever Fought

Her whole chest shook from her quiet laughter as she lowered her head on her palms to muffle the pouring amusement that threatened to tear through her chest and eat all of them alive.

“We are all monsters of another's creation, aren’t we?” War’s cold, velvety voice spoke, but not from behind her.

She lowered her hands from her face and turned to him, only to find herself alone in the cupboard. Quickly, almost giving herself away, she looked through the cupboard door crack, searching for him.

The God of War had leaned against Adam’s table, picking up another of his lemon sherbets, while the rest of the room had gone peep squeak quiet at his near presence.

“Aren’t we?” he repeated, a little louder and more annoyed.

“I suppose we are,” Henry answered, sending a cautious look to Adam.

“Who does she call her creator?” War asked, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest. “You?”

She didn’t think Henry realised himself that his gaze strayed to Adam.

Almost offended, the silver haired general sneered at his old friend. “What are you insinuating, Henry? That I made her evil?”

Henry’s grey scowl deepened. “No one said that.”

The tension in the small tent turned blistering hot and cold at the same time. Accusing and angry looks were thrown around at each other. Simple words were said, all misinterpreted by the other, exaggerated by the other. Rowan could hear none of them had any meaning behind. She knew men like Adam and Henry would not care for War’s words.

It all took her by surprise.

The commotion was terrifying.

It rose as fast and burst as fast as a volcano.

Friends accused one another, threatened one another.

Weapons were raised.

Promises of blood were made.

“Stop,” Rowan murmured to herself. “Please stop.”

War raised his eyes to where she hid and smirked.

Like someone had clicked their fingers and ordered a halt, the commotion ended.

Confused, Henry and Adam looked at one another, staggering out of the tent, half wondering what they had just done.

Rowan had just seen War’s power.

She’d seen what he could do.

“Come out now,” he told her, picking up Adam’s whole container of lemon sherbets.

Her back slid against the cupboard, and she dropped to the ground, taking in the darkness around her and the little sliver of light framing him.

The small space hugged its suffocating walls around her, and for the first time in a while, she let herself pretend she was being consoled in someone’s embrace. The darkness had been the only thing that had really ever held her. Wrapping her arms around herself, she held tightly.

A silent sob shook her chest.

Then another.

Her body shook from her quiet cries. Tears rolled down her face. She dropped her head back, her eyes falling to his again, finding him utterly still. She was sure he couldn't see her or hear her, but she might have been wrong.

He didn’t move until her throat grew hoarse and her body went slack from the taunt cries she’d suppressed. Defeated by her own emotions, she laid there until she was drained.