Asher nearly stumbled mid-stride at her question, catching himself with a quick hop before regaining his rhythm.
"Whoa—" He huffed out a breath, half a laugh, half embarrassnt. Then he lifted his arms wide as he jogged, palms open to the morning air. "I just needed to clear my head... and breathe this in." His chest rose deep, like he was trying to store the scent in his lungs. "Oh my, I missed the sll of ho."
The air carried damp grass, lake breeze, distant blossoms — clean in a way the capital never was.
"Yeah," Lara said quietly. " too." Her pace stayed smooth, unhurried. "It clears my head. Keeps in shape." A small pause. "And it reminds I’m in control of sothing."
No drama. No self-pity. Just a simple statent, dropped between them like a stone in still water.
Asher didn’t answer right away.
Not because he didn’t have sothing to say — because he was listening. Really listening.
He studied her from the corner of his eye. The steady cadence of her steps. The grounded way she carried herself. No nervous fidgeting, no trying to impress him, no awareness that she was jogging beside a Zuvel on land worth billions.
Most people ran on this estate like they were aware of the caras, the money, the invisible weight of the Zuvel na.
Lara ran like none of that existed.
She didn’t try to fill the silence. Didn’t chatter. Didn’t flirt.
She just kept going — steady, self-contained, like she could outrun anything that tried to chase her.
For a while, the only sounds were their footsteps and the soft rush of wind past their ears.
Then Lara spoke.
"So... you stay here? Not at the Zuvel mansion in the capital?"
"I just arrived from abroad," Asher said. "I thought of staying here for a few days before heading back to Lanura." He exhaled through his nose.
She humd softly, acknowledging but not prying.
Silence fell again — the kind where both people feel the conversation hovering, waiting for soone to grab it.
Asher did.
"This place belongs to my mom," he said, voice quieter now. "Ares and I were born here."
Lara glanced around — the endless lawn, the towering trees, the lake glinting beyond. "You’re lucky," she said. "That’s a beautiful place to grow up."
"Yeah." A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. "My dad was the lucky one. He married her."
Lara laughed — light, genuine, the sound spilling out before she could stop it.
Asher blinked, caught off guard by how much he liked the sound of it.
"Did you know," she said after a mont, her voice turning soft with sothing like nostalgia, "this place used to be called Calma?"
He frowned. "Seriously? I didn’t know that. It’s Laguna now because of the lake. But the lake is called Calma because it is calm."
They slowed as they reached the far edge of the lawn. To the left, a path curved toward a garden blazing with color, separated from the open field by a long row of towering fire trees. Their branches stretched wide like flas frozen in mid-motion, buds just beginning to show.
Lara stopped.
"They’re about to bloom," she said, her voice distant, almost dreamy. "In April and May... they must be breathtaking."
She stared at the trees as if she wasn’t just seeing them — but rembering sothing layered over them, sothing no one else could.
Asher stopped beside her, but his attention wasn’t on the trees anymore.
It was on her.
There was a look on her face — soft, faraway, almost nostalgic.
Like she’d stepped out of the present.
Lara moved forward slowly, drawn toward the nearest trunk. Her steps were careful, reverent. She closed her eyes.
In her mind, the trees were no longer scattered with buds but blazing in full bloom — canopies of red-orange fire welcoming travelers entering through the old North Gate of Calma... past the twin towers Argus and Panoptes... now just ruins before a lake.
"As if she’d been there," Asher thought uneasily.
He cleared his throat.
Lara’s eyes flew open, the vision shattering. She blinked, disoriented, like soone waking from a dream they weren’t ready to leave.
"What were you thinking about?" he asked carefully.
"Nothing." She brushed it off too quickly, turning toward the tree. "Just... fragnts of the past."
"Your past?" he pressed. "Did you have a lot of these where you grew up?"
Lara stilled.
For a split second, sothing vulnerable flickered across her face —it was confusion.
"I..." She frowned slightly, searching. "I can’t rember." A quiet breath. "But maybe. There should be."
Her hand hovered near the rough bark, but never quite touched it — she was wondering if Larissa Reyes had seen a lot of fire trees from where she ca from.
"Hey, Larissa," Asher called, a teasing lilt riding his voice. "Look who’s catching up."
Lara glanced over her shoulder—
—and her breath hitched.
A figure was closing in on them fast, cutting across the lawn with long, powerful strides that ate distance like it ant nothing. Even from afar, there was no mistaking the presence. Commanding. Dangerous. Unignorable.
Ares.
Morning light carved sharp lines across his body as he ran. His legs — bare, lean, and brutally strong — moved with controlled force, each step grounded, efficient, built for dominance rather than speed alone.
The thin training shirt clinging to his torso did absolutely nothing to hide what lay beneath; if anything, it made it worse. Fabric darkened with sweat mapped the hard planes of his chest, the deep grooves of his abdon, the unmistakable outline of a six-pack earned through discipline, not vanity.
He looked less like a man out for a jog... and more like a weapon in motion.
Lara snapped out of her gaze, forcing her breathing back into rhythm.
Beside her, Asher noticed.
"Huh," he drawled, amused. "Not even a double take." His eyes slid sideways to study her. "So this isn’t your first ti seeing my brother dressed like that?"
"We cross paths when I run at the Zuvel mansion," Lara said, tone even, almost casual — as if she were discussing the weather and not the human equivalent of a walking distraction behind them.
"I see," Asher replied politely.
But inside, his thoughts were anything but polite.
Other won would’ve tripped over their own feet by now.
Ares closed the remaining distance in seconds.
When he reached them, the temperature of the morning seed to drop.
Up close, his expression was carved from stone — jaw tight, eyes dark, not a trace of the exertion showing except for the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. He didn’t look winded. He looked... irritated.
Dangerously so.
"Hey, brother," Asher said lightly, as if he hadn’t just watched a storm roll in. "Why do you look so sullen this early in the morning?"
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