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My gut churns with anger and something I don’t want to admit—jealousy.
By the time I pull up to my gran’s house, I’ve calmed down, but my mind is reeling. Shoving open the door, I step out of the vehicle, shivering when the cool night air drifts over me, reminding me of the church.
My spine tingles and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end when I feel someone watching me. My gaze darts around the darkened forest not far from where I’m parked. But I can’t see anything in the shadows.
Rushing toward the house, I unlock the door and enter its comfortable warmth, shutting myself inside. Closing my eyes, I pray the eerie feeling goes away sooner rather than later.
There’s a lead weight in my gut from Ares’ warning. And I know it has something to do with my father. Which only begs the question—what did Dad do to Ares’ family?
It seems Ares and his friends run this town, and something tells me, this is only the start of him trying to scare me so that I’ll leave. But Ares doesn’t know I’ve had worse threats in my life, that I’ve been through worse, so his threats won’t work.
I fight back.
And nothing he does can ever make me run.
The house is silent as I move through it. The living room is empty, and I wonder where Gran is. Perhaps she’s out with friends playing Bingo or something. When I reach my bedroom, I settle on the edge of my bed. It’s late, but I hit dial on Fergus’s number. He knew my father for almost twenty years, perhaps he can explain what’s going on.
“Dahlia, are you okay?” His voice is filled with worry, and I can hear the muffled sounds in the background. It sounds like a woman talking to him, which only makes me feel even more guilty. I shouldn’t have bothered him.
“I…” My mouth goes dry when I hear the sound of glasses clinking, and I force my eyes to shut in frustration. “I’m fine, sorry to have bothered you, Fergus.” I finally manage. I told Ares I didn’t need my father, and Fergus is almost like a parent to me. If I told him what happened, he’d only drag me back to D.C. I have to figure out a way to get Ares to confess, on my own, what the fuck is going on.
“Dahlia.” His concern is palpable. “Your father was a good friend, a partner, if something is going on, you need to tell me.”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry to have bothered you so late, I just… I’m fine,” I tell him, forcing a smile on my face in the hopes that he can hear it in my voice.
“Are you sure, Dahlia?”
“Yes, Fergus. I just wanted to let you know I’m doing great.” The lie burns my tongue, and he sighs.
“Good girl. If there was anything wrong…” His words taper off. “This town may be where your father grew up, but please be careful.”
My brows furrow at his confession.
“What do you mean?” I question, shooting to my feet. I head to the window, shutting the curtains, and pray I’m hidden from the outside world.
“I just… I just don’t like small towns,” he tells me, but there’s a hint of something in his tone, an inflection of fear, which sets my spine tingling once more.
“But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong. Right, Fergus?” I’m on the tips of my toes. I need to know the truth, but how can I tell if he’s lying to me when I can’t see his face.
“No, Dahlia. You’re as tense as your mother used to be,” he chuckles, shoving off the concern that’s so clear in my tone. “Go to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I want to respond, but he’s already hung up, and I’m sure he’s with a woman, probably doing something I really don’t want to think about what my best friend’s father is doing.
Sighing, I place my phone on the nightstand before heading to the bathroom to splash water on my face. The mirror reflects my worried expression. I stare at the reflection before me: my makeup is non-existent, my lips are deep pink, and I have nothing on them. My wide eyes are the color of the sky, and my hair, which is loose down my shoulders, shimmers like the feathers of a raven.
Can I really trust Ares?
I don’t know, but I’m going to take a chance and find out.
21
Ares
“I’m heading out,” I tell my friends who are still drinking. I’m angry, too angry to get drunk and still keep a level head. Also, I promised Dahlia that I’d tell her. How the fuck am I meant to admit what I know?
“See you tomorrow,” Etienne says from beside me. I know they both heard exactly what was said, so I don’t respond.
