Page 183 of Play Dirty

“I left this shithole for greener pastures,” he chided. “Don’t cry about it. Suck it up.”

Ares hit him again — this time in the stomach. Sutherland stopped laughing. He doubled over, coughing…

That set it off all over.

Bodies collided. Tables skidded. Someone crashed into the bar hard enough to knock bottles loose.

“HEY— HEY—!” a voice shouted, somewhere in the chaos.

Zack — God help him — was still clutching his takeout container like it held state secrets. At least up until one of the Sentinels came at Grayson, at which point he reacted on pure instinct.

“NOPE—”

He launched the entire greasy, horrific contents straight at the guy’s face. It hit him square in the jaw with a wet, catastrophic splat.

Everything froze for a second. The guy just stood there, dripping congealed cheese. Blinking in stunned disbelief.

“What the hell was that?” he choked.

“Regret!” Zack yelled.

Sebastian lost it. Actually lost it. Ares surged forward again, but this time Grayson caught him. He used every last ounce of his strength to hold onto his teammate, locking him in place.

“Enough!” he said firmly.

Something in his voice must’ve triggered a memory, because Carter Sutherland actually stopped. He stood there breathing hard, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

His eyes found Grayson again. Then me.

And that smile—

That same sharp, knowing smile slid right back into place.

“This isn’t over,” he sneered.

Grayson shrugged.

“Will be soon.”

Security grabbed Sutherland and shoved him toward the door. The rest of his team followed, angry, still chirping as they disappeared out of sight.

The bar settled slowly behind them.

Chairs were turned over again, and tables slid back into place. Zack stared mournfully down at the remains of his sacrificed meal.

“… I was saving that,” he said quietly.

Ares let out a breath, rolling his shoulders. Sebastian wiped his mouth, still half-grinning.

“They’re throwing us out too, once the Sentinels clear the lot,” said Dorian, returning from the bar. “So finish your drinks.”

“I can’t even find my drink,” lamented Caleb, searching the floor.

I glanced over at Grayson. Not only was he no worse for wear, but for some reason he seemed entirely unfazed.

He caught my look and grinned back at me. His hair was still somehow perfect. His lip, a tiny bit swollen on one side. And in that moment, I knew.

I love him.