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B illings carries Ares with his hands under his armpits.

I have hold of his ankles. Together, we shuffle into the warehouse as Harry holds the door open for us.

We navigate our way through the maze of boxes, and finally, Harry scans his hand for the second door to open the second vault.

We lay Ares down on the bed, and I take care to straighten him out, cupping a hand on his cheek.

Fuck.

He’s so beautiful. Yet right now, he looks so damn broken. And the person responsible for breaking him is in the vault right next to this.

I hear the scuffle of footsteps and glance over my shoulder to see Sysco walking in, Harry on his heels.

“Thanks for saving my ass,” Sysco says, eying Ares as he lies in that bed. “I’m honestly not sure I could have taken him if he’d gotten to me.”

I don’t say it aloud, but there’s no way Sysco could hold out against Ares. While Sysco is very tall, about two inches taller than Ares, Ares has to have about twenty or thirty pounds of muscle on Sysco. Sysco wouldn’t have lasted long.

“It was just damn lucky timing that Ares finally charged his phone,” I note as I sit on the bedside and look down at Ares’ face.

“I’ve tried calling and texting a million times, but it’s been dead.

When I tracked him…” I shake my head. When Ares finally comes back to himself, it’s going to be horrific.

But if he came to and also realized he’d ripped apart his best friend…

I couldn’t let that be on his conscience.

“Looks like he’s already been in a fight today,” Sysco notes, his eyes scraping over the state of my fiancé.

“With himself,” I say, my words coming out hoarse. “There were two parts to what Ophelia told him to do.”

“Kill every vampire he knows in New York City,” Harry continues for me when my throat feels too tight to keep going. “Then to kill himself when he was done.”

Sysco curses, the look in his eyes darkening. His hands curl into fists. “Ares? What the fuck could she have against him? I mean… he saved her. And Ares is the fucking best. Why…”

“Hurt people hurt people,” I say quietly, brushing my fingers along Ares’ cheek. And I can’t help it. I lean in and press my lips to it next, then press my forehead against his, praying for everything to just go back to the way it was.

Sysco curses again, glaring daggers in the direction of the other vault.

“How long until he wakes up?” Harry asks.

“Hours,” I say. Elle wasn’t very specific when she gave me the dart with her vampire toxin. “But I see no harm in getting Ophelia to undo what she did while he’s still out.”

Harry nods and walks out of the vault. I hear him open the one next door, and a few moments later, he reappears, Ophelia at his side.

She’s stiff as can be, her shoulders shrugged up to her ears. She looks terrified. Her eyes whip around the room, going from Ares’ unconscious form, to me, to Sysco. She eyes him warily, taking a step away from him.

“Look, I’m not going to lay a hand on you, but this is some serious bullshit you’ve pulled,” Sysco says.

He doesn’t look away once, his eyes intense and a little crazy.

I’ve always thought of Sysco as a wild card, and he just reaffirms it to me every day.

“You’re gonna fix what you did. Because Ares didn’t fucking deserve this. ”

Ophelia steps sideways, away from Sysco, and doesn’t say a word.

“Do you see him?” I ask, my blood turning boiling hot. “He looks like he’s fucking decaying , Ophelia! This is the person I love with every damn fiber of my being. And you’ve turned him into something that he isn’t. And I’m about to lose him. Ophelia. Fix. Him. Now.”

She’s shaking from head to toe. Her eyes are bloodshot, and fear is consuming every bit of her. Harry places a hand on the small of her back and pushes her forward. He doesn’t push hard, not at all, but she stumbles forward.

I shift on the bed, scooting to the side so that she can see more of him.

She takes another step forward, her eyes locking on him.

I watch her face as she approaches. There’s wariness.

She can see the injuries on him. I can practically see her thoughts spinning on it all.

But I also see something like disgust in her eyes.

“Fix. Him,” I say darkly as I stare at her.

Her eyes dart to me, and it’s me she steps sideways away from this time.

I don’t even fucking care anymore that she’s afraid of me.

“I… I don’t know how to undo it,” she says, her words rough.

“How did you tell him to do it before?” I prompt.

“I just told him,” she says. “And touch. It seems more likely to work if I’m touching the person.”

Ares will still be out for hours. But I grab his hand and hold it out to Ophelia. It dangles, limp, just like he was dead. And I hate it.

The look on Ophelia’s face tells me that with everything in her, she does not want to touch Ares. But my eyes narrow at her, and she steps forward. She takes his hand in her trembling ones.

“Stop killing vampires,” she says, looking down at his unconscious form. “And don’t hurt yourself. Go back to the way things were before we last spoke.”

She lays his hand back on the bed and backs up a step.

“That’s it?” I question, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what else you want me to do, Lana,” she says, a little attitude rising in her tone. “That’s how I did it. I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do when he’s not even conscious.”

I glare at her, hating that this is where we are, and knowing it will never, ever go back to the way it was between us. I could never forgive her. And she so obviously has lost every ounce of respect for me.

The sound of footsteps approaching draws my eye to the doorway. Five seconds later, Florence steps into the vault, followed by Clementine.

The moment Florence lays eyes on Ares, she sucks in a ragged breath through her nostrils. Her face pales. She tries very, very hard to keep her expression composed.

She takes it all in. The cuts on him, the bruises. The furrow between his brows. Even unconscious, he doesn’t look at rest.

Florence’s eyes flick up to meet mine. "Thank you, Lana," she whispers, voice thick with barely contained emotion. "Thank you for finding him."

“Always,” I assure her, a solemn vow.

Clementine watches the scene observantly, assessing every movement, every moment like it’s all made of glass.

Which it is.

Florence’s eyes flick over to Ophelia, and she’s always been a smart woman. Florence immediately figures out that it was Ophelia who did this to her brother. Something shifts in her expression.

Before I realize what’s about to happen, Florence crosses the vault toward Ophelia and slaps her across the face.

The crack of the impact echoes through the vault.

Ophelia staggers back, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. A startled scream escapes her lips.

"You did this to my brother," Florence says, her voice quiet but cutting like glass.

"You turned him into a weapon and pointed him at people you decided should die. And then you told him to end his own life. The self-righteous are always the worst people in this world, and you’ve placed yourself in their ranks, you selfish coward. "

I’ve never seen Florence like this. She’s always been powerful and intimidating but gentle, warm. But right now, she looks like she could kill Ophelia herself.

Suddenly, Ares stirs, and all our attention snaps back to him. A low, guttural sound escapes his lips, his fingers twitching.

We don’t have time for speeches for justice.

"Everyone out," I order. "Sysco, Harry—wait outside."

Sysco looks like he wants to argue, but one look at Ares, and he just nods. "We’ll be right outside."

Florence hesitates. "Lana, you should?—"

"I’m staying."

She clenches her jaw but doesn’t fight me on it. A moment later, the heavy vault door shuts with a loud clang. It’s just me, Ophelia, and Ares now.

Ares’ breathing is ragged, his muscles tense as he fights consciousness. Then his eyes snap open.

My stomach drops.

His pupils are blown wide, his expression feral. He lifts his head, sniffing the air, his gaze snapping toward the vault door. "Sysco," he breathes. "Harry."

He moves, a blur of power and instinct, lunging for the door. I barely get out of the way in time. He slams his fists against the metal, the impact shaking the entire vault. His growl is animalistic, violent. He’s not thinking—he’s acting purely on the command Ophelia planted in his head.

Fuck. Oh, fuck, it didn’t work, not even a little bit.

"Ares!" I shout, standing and taking a step toward him. "Look at me. Please, look at me."

He doesn’t. He doesn’t even register my voice. He rakes his nails down the metal door, fingers splitting open from the force, but he doesn’t stop. Blood smears against the surface, but he doesn’t react to the pain. He just keeps going, desperate to rip his way out.

"It didn’t work," Ophelia whispers. Her voice is small, shaking. "I—I don’t know how to undo it."

Rage surges through me. "Try again!" I snarl. "You don’t get to say you don’t know. You did this, so fix it!"

She stands there for a moment, her back pressed flat against the farthest wall.

She’s shaking from head to toe in terror.

But she takes two breaths before she steps toward Ares.

She grabs his hand as he tries once more to claw his way through the steel.

"Ares, listen to me. You don’t want to do this.

You don’t have to do this. I’m telling you—stop! "

For a second, he freezes. His glowing red eyes turn on her, nostrils flaring. Then his lip curls. "Ophelia. You hurt Lana," he growls, voice thick with disgust. "She didn’t deserve it."

Ophelia flinches like she’s been struck. She drops his hand when Ares lets out a roar and slams his shoulder into the door. I hear a snap as his collarbone buckles. His body is wrecking itself, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t care.

“Focus, Ophelia,” I say through clenched teeth. I feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack. Watching the man I love unravel is horrific. And there’s nothing I can do to help him right now. “Try harder.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Ophelia asks, annoyed and scared. “He’s acting like a fucking lunatic.”

“Because you made him that way!” I snarl. “Try again!”

Ophelia’s jaw clenches, and her eyes shift back to Ares. “You’re going to hurt yourself, so stop it, now! You don’t have to do this anymore, Ares. Just stop.”

But Ares just pounds his fist into the door, screaming for Sysco like he’s possessed.

Fuck.

He’s going to tear himself apart. I can’t let him hurt himself.

I don’t hesitate. I pull the dart from my pocket, praying it has enough toxin left for a second dose, and lunge. Ares barely reacts before I jam it into his neck.

His entire body jerks. He gasps, glowing red eyes locking on mine for just a second—just long enough for me to see a flicker of recognition. The black veins sprout around his eyes, and he spasms in pain, a cry escaping his lips. Then he collapses.

I drop to my knees beside him, my breathing ragged, my hands shaking as I push his hair back from his face.

Tears slip down my cheeks.

I finally have him back.

But how the hell do we fix him?

“Lana, I…” Ophelia starts. She stares at Ares with wide, terrified eyes, tears glistening in them. “I didn’t…”

“You didn’t actually think about what you were doing to him?” I snarl as I glare at her. “About the fact that he is an actual person? That there would be consequences to taking away his free will?”

Her eyes meet mine, and tears slip down her face.

I wait. I wait for her apology. She should be really damn sorry.

But she never says the words.

“Try again,” I snap. I haul Ares back to the bed, and I don’t give a damn that she’s seeing my newfound strength. I just don’t fucking care what she thinks anymore, and I’m not even going to bother explaining. Me being a Made is her fault, too—a direct consequence of her decision.

Once he’s positioned comfortably in the bed, I take his hand and hold it out to Ophelia again.

She swallows once, noting the blood that is smeared over his hand. The split where he broke the skin is slowly knitting itself back together.

She takes his hand, his blood staining her own. She stares at him for several long moments. She lets her eyes slide closed and inhales a slow breath.

“Ares, forget everything I told you to do. You don’t need to kill any more vampires. You don’t need to kill yourself. Things need to go back to the way they were before.”

I inhale to speak, but suddenly, the door of the vault swings open.

“We’ve got a problem to deal with,” Harry says, his eyes dark.

I glance up at Ophelia, but Harry isn’t waiting. He grabs her wrist, his touch gentle, and he leads her out of Ares’ vault and out to the other one. I look down at my fiancé’s sleeping form once more, but nothing has changed. So, I climb to my feet and walk out after Harry.

He’s just closed Ophelia back in her vault when I step outside. He pushes the door to Ares’ vault closed, and I look from Harry to Sysco, to Florence and Clementine, searching for the answers as to what’s going on.

“My security team just alerted me about a couple of vampires who have been in the city for a few days,” Harry says as he slides his hands into his pockets.

“Okay, why is that weird?” Florence questions, her brows furrowing.

“They just asked to meet with the Barons,” he says.

That grabs my attention. Nobody really knows about the Barons. It’s not exactly public knowledge that vampires exist in the first place. But that there is a board of powerful vampires in this city? The Barons don’t advertise their existence.

“We kind of have a lot of shit going on,” I point out.

“I’m aware,” Harry says, his tone slightly deadpan. “I’d ignore the request normally, given what else is going on. But they’re from Chicago.”

I wait for him to explain further. But he doesn’t. “And?” I encourage.

“When it comes to supernaturals from Chicago, I don’t ignore them,” Harry says.