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He’s pissed I’m here too.
I’ve broken their rules by coming here, but I’m not sorry. I’d be dying a slow torturous death waiting for news if I hadn’t.
A sudden screaming cuts into the chaos.
Both Ares and I turn in time to see a figure covered in flames come running out from the cornfields toward us. His screams are terrifying, but I can’t look away. He only gets so far before he drops to his knees.
“Who is that?” I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
“One of them.” Ares’ voice is low and dangerous.
“Where are the other two?”
“One is inside the barn, but he won’t be causing any more problems.”
Meaning either the fire got him or Ares did.
“And the third one?”
“Probably burning to a crisp in the cornfield.”
I watch as Jack and Shooter stride over to where the man dropped to the ground. He’s still on fire. Still screaming.
“Look away, baby,” Ares rasps.
He buries my face in his shoulder but not before I see Shooter take out his gun. I hear a shot, and the screaming stops.
Suddenly, I’m trembling and cold, almost as if I’m going into shock. Ares keeps a protective arm around my shoulder as he walks me away from the scene. “Come on, I gotta get you home.”
At his bike, I stop and turn to look over my shoulder. A ghostly finger runs down my spine. It’s like someone is watching this scene unfold from the silhouetted tree line in the distance, and I feel their furious gaze narrow in on me. “He’s out there,” I whisper.
“There’s always going to be someone out there. But I won’t let anything happen to you.” He swings his leg over his bike. “Just stop making it so damn hard to keep you safe.”
I wrap my arm around his waist, and we take off into the evening, leaving the carnage behind us.
That’s when I realize my new reality.
I’m in love with Ares.
And losing him is going to hurt.
ARES
After arriving back at Rory’s, I shower and take my time under the stream of water to get the smell of smoke out of my senses and to ease the tension in my shoulders.
Tonight was a close call, and we were lucky to make it out alive. If we hadn’t busted a hole in the wall of the barn and escaped into the cornfields, I’m not sure I’d be standing here now.
Pressing my hands against the wet tiles, I duck my head so the water rushes over the nape of my neck and down my back.
At first, no one said anything. It was a standoff. Five men staring at each other.
Then it happened quickly.
The psycho with the flamethrower ignited his weapon and sent a burst of fire toward us. Jack and I dived for cover, the space between us lit up by a roaring arc of orange flame.
Smoke filled the air as plants caught alight. Still lying on the floor where I landed, I shot blindly in the direction of The Three hoping like hell to hit one of them. Through the smoke, I saw one of the men stalking toward me. Head bowed. Shoulders squared. A big fucking hunting knife in his hand.
I shot him three times in the chest, but he kept coming at me. The fuckers were wearing body armor.
