14. Ares

14

ARES

Twelve Years Ago

W ater dripped from the fire escape that ran along the ratty old building standing next to him. It had been raining the last two days, and the streets were still flooded with rainwater everywhere. Some might admire the way the moonlight reflected off the puddles, but it only took an admirer a moment to spot the trash and filth that peppered those reflections. So much for nature's beauty.

Ares pulled the trench coat he wore tight around his body. It was mid-December, and the weather wasn't cold enough yet for snow, but it was heading that way very quickly.

He glanced at his watch.

11:58 p.m.

The man was late.

Ares looked up and down the dark alley.

Nothing but dark shadows and alley cats nervously watching the stranger who had invaded their territory.

His fingers played over the sleek edges of the gun he kept hidden inside the interior of the trench coat he wore. Quietly resting, it waited. Hoping that one day it would do what it was created for and bring death to those unlucky enough to be standing before its barrel.

Staring down the empty alley, Ares wondered why his contact was late for their meeting.

Had the man fallen victim to some dark plot?

Had the man changed his mind and decided to protect the information he'd been hired to uncover?

Was someone onto their investigation?

There was no use speculating. If the man was late, there must be a good reason. At least, he hoped there was.

Would Ares have to add yet another name to the ever-expanding list of people he had to make disappear? He was running out of construction sites and was going to have to find an alternative dumping ground. Judging by the way business was going, he didn't think people were going to stop trying to take away his business.

Fear equaled power. Power equaled control. And control equaled money.

Ares did what was necessary to achieve all four.

The sound of footsteps stepping through a puddle caught Ares's attention.

Finally.

Out of the shadows stepped a nervous young man.

"Are we alone?" the man asked, his face was covered by the black hoodie he wore.

"Yes," Ares replied, eyes glancing over the dark figure's shoulders to confirm that they were, in fact, alone. "You got it?"

The man pulled a beige file out from under his sweater and handed it to Ares.

Ares's jaw tightened as he took the file and passed the man a thick white envelope. Five thousand euros. That was the going rate to find the identity of the person who betrayed you.

It had been almost a month since the Sabarinos had died in an explosion on his private jet—a jet that he was also supposed to be aboard. It had been a last-minute decision for Ares to stay behind so he could try and figure out how things went so horribly wrong.

Thinking back to that day, he felt both incredibly lucky and incredibly guilty for having survived that horrific crash.

Holding the thin file in his hand, his muscles began to tense. Contained within this folder was the name of the person who had betrayed him. A traitor. A snake hidden in the grass… waiting.

"You sure you want to open that?"

Ignoring the man's question, Ares stared at the envelope.

"You know, once you look inside, you'll never be the same."

His contact was right. Ares had always prided himself on being able to read people and surrounded himself with people he trusted—or at least people who feared him enough that they didn't dare to double-cross him. Yet, hidden within the confines of this thin folder was the name of the person who dared to betray him. Someone who did not respect or fear him. A Judas in the midst.

Someone was about to die.

"Fine. We never had this conversation," the man muttered before stepping back into the shadows and disappearing into the night.

Ares flipped open the file and began scanning the documents. The first item was a bank account statement showing a wire transfer of ten thousand euros into the account of a Mr. Miller from a holding company registered in the Cayman Islands.

He didn't know any Mr. Miller.

He flipped to the next document and stared at the schematics for his jet.

What the…?

A thick black circle had been placed directly over one of the engines of the plane. That was where the bomb had supposedly gone off.

Heart pounding, he flipped to the next document.

His heart stopped in his chest.

"That little bastard," Ares whispered.

Blood rushed to his ears, and the world around him went silent.

It was just Ares, alone in a black space.

His mind pulled away, digging through a dark chest that he kept buried deep in his subconscious. He didn't like to acknowledge that this box of darkness existed. His mind sifted through the contents, trying to decide what the most appropriate course of action was. What punishment fit the ultimate crime.

Then, a smile crept slowly across his face.

His mind closed the treasure chest of darkness and fastened the lock on the box once again.

Snapping the file closed, he turned and walked back down the dark alley.

There was a man whose bones needed breaking .

Two days later, Ares stood in the basement of one of the abandoned houses he had purchased only a few short months ago. He figured that with his line of work, he was going to need secluded, private locations in which to conduct his… business.

Sliding the stone against the knife, he savored the sound the object made as it gently sharpened the knife he was holding.

Swoop.

Each stroke getting closer to its end goal.

Behind him, the man dangling from the ceiling let out another whimper as he, too, listened to the sound of the stone gliding against the blade.

Swoop.

Another sob escaped the man's terrified lips.

One. Two. Three. Four.

He counted the strokes it took to get the blade nice and sharp. He wanted it to cut through his guest's flesh like a hot knife through butter.

Yes, that was a perfect analogy.

Ares smiled.

Another sob behind him and muffled pleas for mercy.

Holding the blade up to the light, he loved the way it shimmered as the lights from the overhead lamps caught the sharp edge of the blade.

Yes, that would do.

Turning, he stalked toward the man dangling from the ceiling—hands tied above his head, tape securely fastened against his lips.

"Why?" he asked, staring up into the terrified brown eyes he had loved since the day he met them.

The man muttered something under the tape.

"Oh, sorry. Let me help you with that." Ares reached up and yanked the tape off the young man's mouth.

The man let out a cry as the tape tore against his sensitive skin.

"Now. Tell me, brother . Why?"

The man who had been born exactly eight years and a day after Ares stared down at him, weeping and sniffling.

"Ares, please . I'm your brother."

Ares stared into his brother's eyes with hurt and disgust. He couldn't understand why Abel, his own flesh and blood, would try and have him killed. The Sabarinos he understood. They weren't family.

Studying the documents in the file he had obtained, Ares had learned that the Zitti family had taken advantage of Abel's lack of money and hefty drug addiction and offered him a solution to both. Cash for intel on where the Sabarinos were so they could kill them, and free drugs for life. Ares wasn't so sure this last part of the deal would have ever been held up once the hit had been carried out, but why had Abel tried to have his own brother killed as well?

It had been Abel who had informed Ares that the Zittis were on their way to kill the Sabarinos that day, and it had been Abel who suggested that he fly them out of the country. It wasn't until after the flight took off that Ares called his brother to inform him that he had stayed in Italy to gather some intel.

"So, why? Abel? Why did you want me dead?" Ares growled, slashing the knife across his brother's chest.

Abel cried out as crimson leaked from his open wound.

Watching the liquid slide down his brother's bare chest made the monster Ares kept locked away smile. There was something about the pain and the vulnerability that fed his beast's hunger.

Ares knew that he needed to keep the beast locked away, only feeding it tastes every so often. Just enough to keep it satisfied and contained. He knew that if he ever gave in and let the beast out, it would consume him. Taking in all that rage and anger stemming back to his father's murder and the years he spent hiding with his brother, trying to ensure their survival. All of it being released at once would decimate the world around him.

Yes, Ares knew that deep down inside him, he was majorly fucked in the head.

"Why?" Ares yelled, startling his brother.

After everything Ares had done for him. Saving Abel from the men who murdered his father, making sure that he had food to eat and clothing to wear, raising him, protecting him, and making sure that his brother had a chance at life. Why? Why? After all the sacrifices and struggles Ares had made for him.

This was the worst kind of betrayal he could have ever imagined.

"Because. I was going to take over your business."

Abel's whispered words pulled Ares from his spiral of self-torment.

His what?

"My business?" Ares asked, confused by the words his brother had uttered.

His brother worked part-time for Ares as a driver and made easy deliveries when needed, but the man was a flake. No commitment, no follow-through. You were lucky if Abel showed up for work two days in a row. So, why, given his brother's major drug addiction and lack of… everything, would his brother have wanted to take over Ares's business?

"Yes, the gun trade. Mr. Zitti said I could take it over once you were dead." Abel let out a sob. "He was even going to hook me up with his contact in Sicily to get me started."

His contact? How stupid was his brother?

"You honestly thought that one of my biggest competitors was just going to hand you over my business once I was dead? Are you a fucking idiot?"

Ares couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had been betrayed by his own brother for a chance to take over his business.

The thought made him sick.

"After everything that I've done for you, this is how you repay me? By trying to have me killed?" Ares was furious now. The thought that his brother wanted him dead was unfathomable. "I don't get it. Why? Why Abel?" he shouted.

Giving Ares one of the angriest glares he had ever seen, Abel blurted, "Because you fucking control my life!"

Stunned, Ares stared at his brother, mouth hanging open.

"You give me a weekly allowance, you monitor my activities, you send me to that goddamn rehab facility when you get tired of my antics. You fucking own me! With you dead, I can control my own life!"

Staring up at his little brother, his heart broke. He had taken care of Abel since he was sixteen, and his father was killed. He had sat by Abel's side when the little bugger was sick, taught the little asshole how to drive, even took the fucking prick to his first strip club. And what thanks did he get? An attempt on his life.

Yes, he might have controlled Abel's life, but it was only out of love. He knew that his brother had a drug problem and did his best to keep his brother from spiraling by limiting the amount of money he gave him each week to spend. When his brother went off the rails, Ares would throw him into a clinic to get clean and hoped that he would see reason and try and get his addiction under control. But Ares loved his brother. His brother was his weakness, his Achilles' heel. He hated to see those sad eyes staring up at him. He had been through so much growing up. They both had. All Ares ever wanted to do was take away all that pain and shelter his brother from the horrors of the world around him.

For that, Ares has failed his brother.

"Please… Ares," his brother sobbed, staring at him with those big brown eyes of his.

What was he supposed to do? He didn't have the heart to murder his own brother, but he also couldn't have him running around free and making it look like Ares had gone soft. Fear was power, and Ares couldn't lose that.

Then, a thought occurred to Ares.

He pulled out his cell phone and called a doctor friend, one who owed him a favor… and happened to be the head doctor at a psychiatric facility in Belarus.

Ares gave his brother an evil grin.

There were other ways to make a man disappear and keep him quiet… forever.