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“You want to carry that weight?” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “Hear the gunshot? Feel the recoil? See what it does to someone up close?”

I rise too, stepping into his path. “I want to live.” My voice is low, certain. “And I want you to stop pretending that loving me means hiding the truth.”

Ares stares at me long enough for seconds to stretch. Then he exhales, as though something inside him gives way.

“You want to learn to protect yourself?” he asks, softer now. “All right. I’ll teach you how to hurt someone, just long enough to get away.” He reaches for my hand, pressing his palm to my wrist.

“If someone grabs you, go for the wrist break first. Right here, twist inward, hard, no hesitation.” He guides my hand, showing the angle. “Then the knee. Kick forward, not back. It’ll drop most attackers long enough to run.”

I gasp when Ares suddenly spins me around and pulls me against him, so my back is pressed against his chest. His fingers drift to my side, pressing gently.

“And here, under the ribs. Knife or elbow. Fast. No second guessing.” He murmurs against my ear. “But only if there’s no other choice. Understand?” I nod, my throat tight.

His hand lifts to my cheek, and he tips my head back so I’m looking up at him as his thumb brushes beneath my eye.

“You don’t need to learn how to kill, bambina.

You just need to know how to stay alive.

” I sigh, leaning into his touch. “You’re the only thing I haven’t ruined.

Let me keep it that way. I want you to stay soft. Stay spoilt. Stay mine. ”

I don’t say anything, not at first. The weight of his words settles over me like a heavy cloak, protective yet suffocating. His eyes search mine, waiting for something I’m not sure I can give. Agreement? Gratitude? Resignation?

But I won’t give him resignation…not now.

“This is going to get ugly before it gets better, I know that, and I’m okay with it.

” I whisper finally. “I’m not going to lie to you.

I am terrified of what could happen, but not me, to you, but I'm ready to fight whatever comes our way. For you. For us. For the chance to have something that isn’t twisted by threats and shadows. ”

Ares studies me, his face indecipherable, but his hand doesn’t move from where it rests against my cheek.

There’s an intensity in his gaze I’ve seen before, raw, consuming, like he’s building a fortress around me from the inside out.

Yet, beneath it, I catch the faintest flicker of something softer. Vulnerability, maybe, or hope.

“I’d take every bullet, every blade, every kind of hell for you, bambina.” His voice is raw, torn from somewhere deep. “But what keeps me up at night is the thought of failing you. Of not getting there in time. Of not being enough.”

I turn to face him fully, closing the distance between us, my fingers gripping the fabric of his black shirt like an anchor.

I meet his gaze with everything in me. “Then we fall together.”

My voice is steady, even as my heart pounds like war drums.

“If you can’t protect me, we figure it out. We rebuild. We bleed. But we don’t let go.”

The word clings between us, “together.” It’s not a plea. It’s a vow.

His breath hitches, uneven, like something inside him just cracked under the weight of it. I feel his hand slip to my waist, grounding us both, his touch as desperate as it is deliberate.

“I never asked for perfect,” I murmur, tightening my grip. “I just want you. Mess and all. As long as you don’t walk away when it gets ugly.”

His chest rises and falls like he’s trying to breathe through a storm.

Then, low, sharp, like a blade unsheathed:

“Bambina, I am the ugly.” His voice roughens. “And walking away from you? That’s not even an option.”

I nod once, feeling assured. Because this is the only thing I won’t ever run from. The world may burn around us, but right now, this, this is what keeps us standing.

Ares studies me for a long, quiet moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small black velvet box, clean, simple, but heavy with intent. He turns it once in his hand before offering it to me without a word.

I look up at him, caught off guard. “What is it?”

“Open it.” I do, and inside, nestled in dark silk, is a bracelet, sleek black gold, smooth and understated, with a single charm shaped like a raven feather, delicate and razor-edged all at once. It’s beautiful. Lethal in its elegance.

Like him.

“Ares…” The word barely escapes me before he reaches for it, lifts it carefully from the box, and takes my wrist.

“It’s one of a kind,” he says softly, eyes never leaving mine. “There’s nothing else like it anywhere. I had it made for you.”

The clasp clicks into place around my wrist like it was always meant to be there. It fits perfectly, weightless and secure.

“It’s beautiful, but why?” I whisper. His fingers linger over the charm, thumb grazing the metal like it grounds something inside him.

“Because I needed you to have something that’s mine. Something that ties you to me when I can’t be there.” He pauses and then quietly adds, “It’s yours, but it’s also a promise. That no matter what happens, I’ll find you.”

My throat tightens. I run my fingers over the charm.

“It’s beautiful,” I say again. He leans in, presses a soft kiss to my temple.

“So are you. And just as rare.”

Then, as he pulls back, I repeat softly, “Yours,”

He lifts his eyes to mine and nods. “You are.”

A pause lingers between us, weighted with all the things neither of us has the courage to say aloud. Then he adds, “Keep it on. Always.”

I nod, brushing my thumb over the charm, not knowing it’s more than just a gift, not knowing he just tied a thread from me straight to him.

“I’ll be gone a few hours,” he says, straightening, the storm settling back over his shoulders like a familiar coat. “Dante will stay close. And the guards know you don’t leave the perimeter. Not for anything.”

“Ares, I’ll be fine, there are guards in every corner surrounding the villa. Dante should go with you.” He looks at me like he wishes he could believe that.

“No, you’re not fine. But you’re still breathing. That’ll do, for now . And Dante stays, I need to know you’re protected, and right now he’s the only one I trust.”

I don’t argue, instead I nod, brushing my fingers over the bracelet again. It's cool against my skin.

Ares leans in, his mouth barely grazing my temple, his voice low and rough. “If anything happens, don’t scream. Run. Don’t try to be brave. Don’t play hero. Get out, hide, wait for me.” Then he pulls back. One last glance at the bracelet.

“And don’t take that off.”

I glance at the bracelet, then look up as he turns to leave.

Okay... that was weird. And the way he said it, low, final, plants a seed in my head, one that has me wondering what he’s not telling me.