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“You’re so fucking full of it, Lancaster,” Dahlia bites out, dragging me from my thoughts.
Yes.
A plan formulates in my mind, and I’m soon smiling at her.
“I am. And soon, you’ll be full of me, too.” I hang up before she has time to respond. “You’ve just played right into my hand, little flower. Now it’s time for war. And you’re not going to survive it.”
17
Dahlia
The red numbers on my alarm clock taunt me.
Four in the morning and I haven’t slept a wink. My body is buzzed as if I’d had enough coffee to wake the dead. Something has been bothering me since I spoke to Ares on FaceTime earlier.
Besides the fact that he was half-naked, which was definitely distracting, he said things that didn’t make sense. I knew my father was good, he’d always been a great father. Even though he wasn’t always present when I needed him, I knew he loved and cared for me. And when my mother left, he was there to pick up the pieces and be both parents.
Granted, there were times I didn’t know where he was. But that was his job. Wasn’t it? The whole conversation I had with Ares plays over and over in my mind, reminding me that he knows more about my dad than I do. Clearly.
Sighing, I roll over and grab my phone. No new messages. Opening social media, I scroll through my timeline, noting how nothing exciting ever happens in my life. It doesn’t help that I only have three hundred friends. All of those are kids from my old school who I never really spoke to in the first place.
Tapping on the search bar, I type in Ares Lancaster and hit the enter key. The moment his profile appears, I find myself enthralled by his photos. Friendly smiles, he and his two friends, Tarian and Etienne, stare into the camera—either alone or with a group of girls.
As I swipe through the albums, I stumble upon a photo of Ares, and another handsome guy appears. I’m sure this is his brother. He looks like a mix of Ares and Abner, their father. He’s good-looking, but his eyes, those deep-set green orbs seem haunted.
It’s only when I reach the older photos from when they were kids that I find a woman beside Ares in one image that steals my breath. She’s beautiful with long blonde hair, wide green eyes, and a smile that lights up the photo.
Me and mom before the picnic.
The tagline grips my chest in a tight-fisted hold, and my breathing becomes erratic. Shoving off the bed, I race to the album my gran left for me. When I flip it open, I find old photos of my dad. Each picture looks old, they even have a soft sepia overlay on them which confirms these were taken years ago, way before I was born. The moment I get to his high school prom, I stumble backward.
Dropping the album, I flop onto the bed and stare at the item on the floor. The photo glaring at me is far too familiar, but at the same time, it’s as if it’s a mystery. There, smiling back at me is my father, Abner Lancaster, and the beautiful blonde woman from Ares’ photo.
I don’t know what that means. I’m confused, but yet, deep down in my gut, I’m almost certain that my father had something to do with the fact that this woman is not in any recent shots with her sons.
Setting my phone on the nightstand, I get up and pad over to the door, pulling it open and stepping into the hallway. The house is silent, beside the clock downstairs ticking loudly. The sound echoes up the steps as I make my way to the bathroom, shutting myself inside, and turning on the shower.
Once I’ve undressed, I step under the hot spray and close my eyes, leaning my head back, reveling in the warmth of the water. My muscles are tense, achy, and I wonder for a moment why.
An image of the church flashes in my mind. The warning Ares gave me compared to his presence last night has confused the hell out of me. Surely, he can just come right out and tell me how he knows my father.
I quickly lather up with my rose fragranced soap and wash my hair. When I step out into the chilly room, a shiver trickles over me, causing goosebumps to rise up over my skin. Wrapping myself in a fluffy towel, I head back to my bedroom and slide open the closet doors.
With a pair of jeans in hand, along with a long-sleeved fitted top, I grab some underwear and socks. As I get dressed, my mind is still on everything that’s happened. Once I’ve slipped on a pair of boots, I pick up my phone to find a message waiting for me.
