Page 12 of Beneath Scarred Vows

"Walk away from me again, Katerina," he says, his voice a dark promise. "And see what happens."

I try to free my arm, but he won't allow it. He tilts his head slightly, like he's waiting to see how far I'll push.

"You may not like my methods, but everything I do is to protect my family. That includes you now."

The possessiveness in his voice sends an unwelcome emotion through me.

Ares leans in, his voice certain. "Your every breath, every heartbeat— is mine now. Remember that."

Then—slowly, deliberately—he lets go of my wrist, his fingers trailing over my skin like a warning.

Silence stretches between us.

He steps back, reaching for his drink again. "We leave for Chicago tomorrow."

The words knock me slightly off balance.

Chicago.

I haven't left Greece in years.

And now, I'm being dragged across the world to a city I don't know, to a life I never wanted.

Ares watches me closely, but I give him nothing.

He smirks. "Chicago is my city. My territory. My rules." He lifts his glass in a mock toast. "You should start getting used to that."

5

KATERINA

It's a cool, crisp day when I step out of the private jet. Just like in Kalamata, there's a limo waiting to take us somewhere.

My eyes feel heavy. I spent most of the morning packing, only to be told by Ares that nothing was coming with me. He'd provide everything I needed—or would ever need—moving forward.

Honestly, they were just clothes and things my uncle gave me to keep me complacent, so it didn't bother me much. What did bother me was Ares.

The moment we were in the air, he tried to speak to me. Ask me questions. Poke. Prod into my life.

His smooth voice might work on other women, but I didn't have much to say to him. So I put on a sleeping mask and pushed my chair back. I wasn't even tired—I just kept it on. Now, I have red marks on either side of my face from the string, and my skin feels puffy.

Another thing I've noticed? It's cold everywhere we go.

The car. The jet. Always exactly seventy degrees.

A control thing. I'm learning Ares has a lot of those.

I slide into the limo and—yep—it's cold in here, too.

I cross my arms as we drive away, staring out the tinted window.

Oddly, I'm in that headspace where I feel like a million things are running through my mind but also nothing at all. Like I should be thinking about a lot of things, but nothing sticks.

"Are you cold?" Ares asks. His first question in hours.

I shake my head.

Even I know I look cold.