𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟕 - 𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒

IM BACK BITCHESSSSS 

Sophie

The last few nights, Ares had grown restless. The house somehow haunted him in a way I could feel but not truly know. He pretended to fall asleep to soothe my worries, but every night, I heard him get up and work on something, as he usually did. Then, when morning came, he snuck back into the bed, looking far too perfect.

I really shouldn't care if he was getting sleep or not. I should be happy that he was taking as much time out of the house to attend to meetings and events, but I'm not. Despite the warm decorations I had put around the house, the place felt oddly empty without his cold presence to warm it up.

He came home the last three nights, all after nine. It was a lot better than just two weeks ago. I barely managed to hide my smile every time he came home with hand-picked flowers. He tried sneaking into my room. If I had told myself a month ago that Ares was getting me flowers yet being too shy to give them to me, I would've laughed in your face.

I had finished cooking dinner about half an hour ago, but I hadn't started, I couldnt bring myself to start eating without him. It was stupid, but I wanted to wait.

After a few minutes, Ares walks into the house, his face still etched with the horror that had creased him the first time we had arrived only now... it was subdued. He hid it well.

"Soph," he starts his voice gruff, holding a bouquet of hand-picked wildflowers behind his back. I could see the little cuts that he got from the thorns, but looking at the slightly pink hue on his cheeks, he didn't seem to care for them. "I'm gonna go to our room real quick," he says, his voice still cold.

I shake my head as I walk up to his tall, formal-dressed figure. "You know you could just give me the flowers yourself," I smile, looking up at him, my hands eagerly awaiting him to set them there.

His eyes falter for a moment before regaining their coldness once again. " I do not want you to prick your hands," he said, his voice desperately trying to hide the concern that made me blush. He had hand-picked all the thorns to the point that his large hands were almost bleeding. There must've been at least a hundred flowers that would've taken no less than three hours to pick and pluck all the thorns from... and even with his busy schedule, he had managed to find the time.

Oh, Ares.

"But your hands, you hurt yourself," I mutter, my eyes staying on his hands.

He lets out a gruff scoff, "My hands don't matter. You do."

He had gotten me flowers before, countless times but they were all worthless. Expensive flowers he would have his assistant choose for the facade we were putting on, but even if these weren't as pretty, they were worth so much more.

I let out a soft giggle, "Thank you, Mr. Russo." I nearly squeal.

"They're just flowers, Soph." He says gruffly, placing them into a pot of water to take into our room later.

I shake my head vigorously, "Shut up. I love them."

He finally gives in a bit, and his body untenses in the slightest, "Alright, alright, darling." he doesn't take his eyes off of me as if to find some sort of comfort in me, unable to set his eyes upon the surroundings.

"Have you eaten?" he asks, looking me up and down as if to check me of malnutrition or something.

"Nope. I was waiting for you."

After dinner.

Ares

In bed

God Sophie looked so beautiful today. It took me four hours to collect all those flowers, I canceled a meeting with an important client for it but there wasn't anything I regretted. I would drag my body through the ashes of hell to see her smile again like she did today.

We lay in bed, our bodies inches apart. There was only one room in this hell of a house. The last two nights here were sleepless. The fact that I was able to step in this house without a panic attack, let alone this room, was a miracle. I am composed, never breakable but all of that falls when I'm here. Had it been anyone else, even suggesting we go here, I would've had them killed, but she was different. No way in hell was I leaving her here alone and defenseless in this city without me. Sleep was hard to find so I usually sat at the table across the bed once she fell asleep. It was too vulnerable to sleep here. To scary. I had been in thousands of situations, shootings, killing others, and never once have I been scared, but the idea of Sophie hurt in this house scared me to pieces.

Memories of my father's wrath, the crack of the whip, the unbearable pain—they all haunted me. Every corner of this house whispered reminders of the torture I had endured, and sleep was a distant dream. Three days. Two nights without rest, my body ached with exhaustion, but my mind wouldn't let me surrender. I had to stay vigilant. I had to protect her.

She lay beside me, her presence both a comfort and a torment. I could hear her soft breathing, feel the warmth of her body next to mine. She was so close, yet I felt miles away, trapped in my own mind, lost in my fears.

I turned my head slightly, watching her in the dim light. Her face was peaceful, and if I could I would have stared at it for all of eternity without boredom. I wanted to reach out, to touch her, to draw strength from her presence. But my hand remained clenched at my side, the scars on my back throbbing with remembered pain.

Suddenly, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She looked at me, her expression shifting from confusion to concern. "Ares, are you okay?" she whispered.

"I'm fine," I lied, my voice rough with exhaustion.

She sat up, the covers falling away from her, and reached out to touch my face. "You haven't slept," she said, her fingers cool against my skin. "You need to rest."

"I can't," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "Not here. Not... with everything."

Her eyes softened, and she moved closer, her hand sliding to the back of my neck, her fingers threading through my hair. "Ares, you need to sleep. You can't keep going like this."

I wanted to argue, to tell her she didn't understand. But the truth was, I was at my breaking point. I needed rest, but more than that, I needed her. I needed the safety and comfort she offered, even if I didn't know how to accept it.

She guided my head to her lap, her fingers never ceasing their gentle caress. "Close your eyes," she murmured. "Just try."

I hesitated, but the exhaustion was too much. Slowly, I let my eyes drift shut, the sound of her voice wrapping around me like a blanket. "I'm here," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

The tension in my body began to ebb away, replaced by a warmth I hadn't felt in years. Her touch, her voice—they were my anchor, pulling me back from the edge. For the first time in days, I felt the pull of sleep, heavy and insistent.

As I drifted off, I heard her voice one last time, "I've got you, Ares."