30. Ares

30

ARES

A res scoffed at the idea. Fuck Zitti. He'd never give the guido fuck the satisfaction of killing him.

"Yeah. Blow me," Ares growled to the whispered sigh of Matteo sitting next to him. Apparently, Matteo didn't appreciate his "last words."

It was at that moment that the skylight above them shattered, sending shards of glass falling from the sky.

Ares raised his arm, shielding his face from the broken glass.

A barrage of bullets rained down from above as a figure dressed in a tight leather outfit propelled down from the skylight, firing at anything that moved. His black and blue wig flopped from side to side as the mystery acrobat used the ropes connected to his frame to maneuver into positions and angles that no human should ever accomplish.

The group of men around them scattered, ducking for cover wherever they could find safety.

"Looked like you could use some assistance," Skyler panted, unhooking himself from the ropes he used to propel himself down from the roof.

Now that was an entrance! Perhaps the boy was right. Skyler's version of this rescue mission was much more entertaining .

"I was wearing him down… psychologically. Another minute or two and Grandpa Zitti would've been passed out from exhaustion," Ares answered, taking the gun that Skyler was offering. He looked over Sky's shoulder and fired off two shots, killing the men quickly approaching.

"Thanks," Sky chirped, the blue in his eyes popping against the solid black eyeliner. Judging by the glint in his eyes, Skyler was having the time of his life.

Perhaps he and Patrick really were soulmates.

Behind Ares, someone fired, narrowly missing Matteo and Sky.

Skyler spun around and fired off two more shots, one hitting the shooter, the other grazing Massimo's arm.

Massimo let out a roar.

"Be right back," Skyler blurted.

Smiling, the ninja acrobat did three backflips before landing with his legs wrapped around some dude's neck.

Letting out a moan, Skyler twisted his legs, snapping the poor man's neck. They both fell to the floor. One smiling, one not so much.

Ares was starting to see why Patrick was smitten with the boy. The man was like a lethal gazelle. Both graceful and deadly.

"Damn," Ares exclaimed. "Where did you learn that?" He was impressed by the fact that gravity didn't seem to apply to the young man.

"Twelve years of gymnastics," Sky responded as he turned to his right, firing off three more shots and watching two more men die.

"Can you untie me, you idiot?" Matteo shouted, still stuck in the chair and doing his best not to make contact with any of the bullets flying at him.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, babe." Ares snorted, rushing over to free his love. "I was distracted by a gazelle with a gun. Did you know that that warrior-ninja is Patrick's husband?"

"Who's Patrick?" Matteo huffed, ducking his head and narrowly missing a bullet. "Fuck, give me a gun!"

"Here." Without thinking, Ares passed Matteo his own.

Great, now he had no weapon.

Not unless he counted his dick.

Oh, perfect—dick jokes while you're getting your ass shot at, some inner voice scolded, bringing Ares's thoughts back into focus.

Pain exploded from Ares's nose as the cold, hard edge of the gun he had just given Matteo cracked across his face.

"Ow! What the fuck, Matté?" Ares growled, covering his nose and blinking back the moisture that threatened to drown his eyes.

"You got my parents killed!" Matteo shouted, turning his gun and firing two shots at Edwin, who was running toward the exit like the coward that he was.

The boy let out a cry when both bullets pierced his thigh. He stumbled, falling to the ground in pain.

"Oh," Ares choked out. Of all the times to be having this conversation, now was not the best. "Babe! I'm sorry! I never meant for them to get hurt." He reached for Matteo's arm, hoping he could get his attention and show him how sorry he truly was.

Another burst of pain. This time across Ares's lip.

"Fuck! Can you stop punching me in the fucking face!" Ares snarled. Yes, he had been harboring this huge secret from Matteo, but now was not the time to be beating his ass up. Whose side was Matteo really on?

"How could you!" Matteo ducked behind the table briefly before jumping up and shooting at two other men hiding behind boxes. "It's because of you that I lost both my parents. Fuck! You didn't even have the decency to tell me to my face!"

A bullet zipped by Ares's ear, nearly giving him a piercing he never asked for. Shit, that was close.

Desperate, Ares grabbed Matteo by the collar and pulled him down behind the table.

"Look! I'm sorry! I never meant to hurt you!" Ares began, shouting, growling, and spitting as he talked.

Fuck, now was so not the time to be having this conversation.

"I was young, dumb, and way too ambitious for my own good. I was betrayed by someone I thought I could trust, and because of that mistake, I got your parents killed."

Ares watched as Matteo heaved in and out. Good. The anger and adrenaline would keep Matteo on his toes. Alert and willing to do what it takes to survive.

A piece of wood exploded by Ares's head. Fuck, these guys were really trying to murder his ass!

"Look, I've spent every day since then hating myself for what my mistakes took from you. The guilt has been eating me alive all these years. That's also why I didn't reach out to you right after your parents died. I couldn't bear seeing the hurt in your eyes, knowing that I was the cause of all that pain."

An explosion went off next to Matteo, and they both jumped.

On the other side of the room, Skyler was leaping off crates and diving behind equipment. All around him, blood splattered, and men fell to their deaths.

Who was this freakin' guy?

"Fuck!" Matteo snarled, glancing over his shoulder at the man trying to creep his way over to where they were hiding. "I'll deal with you later."

Umm… was that a threat?

Before Ares realized what was happening, Matteo jumped up from his hiding place and began shooting up the joint like he was Jason Bourne or something.

Hmm. Perhaps pissing off the Italian was the key to their survival.

Men cried out in pain, and blood burst from their chests. The psycho Italian had been unleashed, and Ares was loving every second of it.

Behind his zipper, Ares felt his cock stiffen. There was nothing sexier than watching the man he loved take out guy after guy as he went on a murdering rampage. So fucking hot.

"Nice shot," Ares cheered, ready to join his man in the action. Shit. He suddenly realized that he didn't have a weapon.

His knife! The one that had been taken from him during his pat down.

Crouching a few feet away, trying to avoid the barrage of bullets flying through the air, was the henchmen who had taken Ares's hunting knife.

Doing his best impression of Jean-Claude Van Damme, Ares lunged forward and dove down onto the man. They struggled. Each vying for dominance and control of one another.

Rolling around on the ground, Ares angled himself perfectly, giving himself just enough space to knee the thief in the crotch before giving him a headbutt as well.

"Ow," Ares groaned. Apparently, getting older also meant that you couldn't take as many blows to the head as you used to.

Winning the battle of the hunting knife , Ares grabbed the weapon and took his victory stab, nailing the man right in the gut.

The man let out a grunt.

Damn. Ares had meant to stab the man in the chest, but at the last second, the man had moved. At this rate, the man would take forever to bleed out.

Fuck it.

Ares raised the knife once more and, this time, plunged the knife right into the man's heart.

The man's eyes went wide, no doubt realizing that these were his final moments. Ares watched in sympathy and victory as the life slowly drained from his opponent's eyes.

There was something about watching a man die that always got to Ares. Knowing that you were the cause of ending a man's life was never an easy thing to grasp. Did they have family waiting for them to return home? Spouses? Children? Would anyone mourn the young man's death?

Refusing to get into a moral debate with his conscience, Ares pushed those human emotions aside and pulled the knife from the dead man's chest. He had a job to do.

All around them, chaos ensued. The sound of death carried its heavy voice throughout the dark corners of the facility.

A few feet away, crazy acrobatic ninja assassin was in his own little world, strangling bad guys with his legs before flipping over a crate and shooting a man in the face.

The bodies were piling up. Ares had to give it to Patrick. He married a guy just as fucked up as he was.

"Here," Ares said, passing Matteo an assault rifle he had grabbed from a man who no longer walked amongst the living.

Matteo took the gun, then readjusted himself behind the overturned table they were hiding behind.

"Thanks," he huffed, picking off each of Massimo's men as they entered the room to help their boss.

Speaking of bosses.

Ares spotted the man hobbling away toward the exit.

"I'm going after Grandpa Zitti," Ares growled, slinking around the table, trying not to get his head blown off.

"Grab a gun, you idiot!" Matteo shouted, reminding Ares that he was bringing a knife to a gunfight.

"Shit. Yeah, thanks!" Ares called back as he frantically searched the mound of dead bodies, looking for another gun.

Ares grabbed an assault rifle and threw the strap over his shoulder. He paused for a moment before deciding to grab a second rifle from a man missing the left side of his face.

Sorry, buddy. No open casket for you.

Actually, there would be no caskets for any of them. Once Ares's crew was finished terminating these assholes, he was going to have to light this place on fire, hopefully destroying any evidence of their presence.

Stopping just inside the door, Ares cracked it open slightly. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. He hadn't survived all these years by running unprepared, headfirst into danger. That was the quickest way to catch a bullet with your teeth.

Once he was certain the coast was clear, he slid outside, ducking behind a forklift that sat off to the side.

All around him, the world was at war. Glass exploded from vans as bullets missed their intended targets. Ares didn't think that those bullets belonged to any of his men. His guys were trained killers. They hit what they shot at.

Screams. Crashes. Gunfire.

People ran, people hid, and people died.

Where was he? Ares scanned the darkness, searching for the greasy-haired Italian who dared to kidnap the guy he loved.

Oh! There you are, you piece of shit.

Ares spotted Massimo hobbling toward a black sedan.

The fucker is running away!

It was at that moment that Massimo shouted. His body went flying backward until he was lying flat on his back, staring up at the stars.

Ares stopped, startled. What the heck just happened?

"Fuck!" Massimo growled, covering his nose with both his hands. "You broke my fuckin' nose!"

Patrick stepped out from behind an oil drum with the biggest smirk on his bloody face.

"Looking for this one?" he shouted at Ares.

Ares chuckled. He jogged over to where Patrick was standing over the laid-out mobster.

Patrick grabbed the snarling Italian and pulled him to his knees.

"Let me go, asshole! Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're the guy who's about to get his balls cut off by the man coming this way." Patrick winked at Ares as he came to a stop next to them. "Love seeing that vicious look in your eyes."

"Can't wait to tear into this bastard. It's been a long time coming," Ares snarled, standing in front of his lifelong nemesis.

Another explosion. Ares's team of professionally trained killers took out each of the drivers trying to escape with vanloads of trafficked people. Peppered around the dock, angry young stripper boys kicked, punched, and even slapped frustrated burly Italians doing what they could to try and save those who had fallen victim to this heartless gang of trafficking monsters.

"They're people! Not slaves!" Levi shouted as he beat a man senseless with what looked like an umbrella.

Levi had his legs wrapped around the torso of a confused gang member who was trying his best to block the blows Levi was striking at his head.

It was like watching a chihuahua attack a confused rottweiler.

Considering Ares didn't hear any police sirens yet, he wasn't concerned about rushing to flee the scene.

"I'm going to enjoy hearing you scream," Ares growled, crouching down on one knee.

The look of pure rage staring back at him made Ares's inner devil smile. You lost the war, old man.

"Throw this piece of shit in the trunk," Ares ordered, watching as Patrick tugged the hobbling, tired man to his feet.

"My pleasure," Patrick noted, holding the growly man by his arm and doing a final scan of the area—no doubt looking for any possible threats or dangers lurking in the shadows.

Ares stood next to Patrick, watching as an angry-looking Matteo approached them.

"We got the bastard," Ares noted, nodding over his shoulder at the angry old man nursing his wounds like a whiny bitch. He was hoping he would receive some sort of praise from Matteo for doing a job well done.

"Good. The bastard's going to pay for what he did to my parents."

The coldness in Matteo's voice sent chills down Ares's spine. He fucking loved the guy.

"Let's get out of this fucking shithole," Matteo mumbled, barely glancing up at Ares.

Pain exploded from Ares's foot.

"Ow! You, mother… fu—" Ares stopped himself, grinding his teeth and glaring at Matteo, who was lowering the gun he held in his hand.

"You know what you did," Matteo muttered before calmly turning and walking toward the rest of the strippers guild as they jumped around and congratulated each other on not dying.

"Marry that man," Patrick blurted from over Ares's shoulder. "I don't know what that was all about, but marry that beautiful man."

Fighting against the throbbing pain in his foot, Ares couldn't help but feel his heart double in size.

He fucking loved that crazy Italian.