Page 28 of Violence and Vice

“Ares finally charged his phone,” I explain. “I tracked him. He’s in Harlem. He know any other vampires in Harlem besides you?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Sysco admits with a sigh.

“He was definitely hunting you,” I say with a nod as I cross another street. “I got to him first, he’s coming to meet me now. I just thought I should warn you.”

A pause. “You sure you can handle him?”

No. Not if he’s fully gone. Not if he’s already too lost in Ophelia’s command.

But I have to believe that I can reach him. That, for me, he really will show up.

“Yeah,” I say, speaking it aloud so it can become true.

“Fuck, Lana, be careful,” Sysco says.

“I will,” I say as I cross the last street. “I’ll call you back when it’s over.”

I hang up as I round the final corner, approaching the alley. It’s quieter here, the sounds of the city fading just a little. My pulse is too fast, my mind spinning.

I don’t know what condition Ares is in. I’ve seen him with blood on his hands, with his shirt torn and bloodied, even shirtless because he had to dispose of it. And if Ophelia told him to end himself when he was done taking out as many vampires as he could…

I don’t know if he’s still capable of seeing me, even. And what if… what if I’m still enough of a vampire that it triggers his instinct, and he tries to hurt me?

No. Fuck, no. I believe it with every bone in me: Ares wouldneverhurt me.

Ares would come for me. I know that. Even like this, with his mind twisted, his body driven by the unnatural force of Ophelia’s command—he would always come for me.

That’s why I played dirty.

This is the only thing I can think of that might break through the haze of his killing instinct. If Ares still has any piece ofhimself left, if there is still even a shred of the man I love inside him, he will fight through anything to get to me.

Just as I reach the middle of the alley, the most private spot, I hear footsteps. Slow, deliberate. A shadow moves at the edge of the alley.

Then Ares steps into the dim light.

My heart about erupts with relief. It’s only been two days since I last laid eyes on him, but so damn much has happened in that time that it feels like an eternity. And the last few hours have been some of the most panic filled of my life once Ophelia revealed the fullness of what she told Ares to do.

He’s not covered in blood, but he looks… wrecked. His clothes are torn in places, dirt and grime staining his shirt. His knuckles are raw, scraped. His face is drawn. He’s wearing sunshades, yet even through them, I can see there are dark circles beneath his eyes like he hasn’t slept in months. Something about his posture sends a deep chill down my spine.

I want to say he looks like he’s been in a fight. But he hasn’t. The tells aren’t there.

This is the result of his own mind.

A wave of nausea rolls through me.

Ophelia’s command is working.

For a terrifying second, I don’t know if he recognizes me. His stance is tense, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. A hunter measuring the moment before the kill.

I fight to stay still, to not show an ounce of fear. “Ares.”

His fingers twitch at his sides. His head tilts slightly, as if listening.

The wind shifts, and I see the second it happens—when my scent reaches him. His entire body locks up. His expression flickers, for just an instant, from cold emptiness to something uncertain.

“Lana,” he says hoarsely.

“Yes,” I whisper, stepping toward him carefully, like I’m approaching a wounded animal. “I’m here.”