The gunfire faded.
Not abruptly — but in layers. First, the sporadic shots. Shouted commands. The heavy thud of boots pounding across soil.
Then, gradually, nothing but the restless rustle of leaves settling back into place.
Ares didn’t move.
Not when his n fanned through the orchard. Not when soone called his na from a distance. Not even when the last echo of violence dissolved into uneasy quiet.
Lara was still pinned against him, half in his lap, half against the boulder, his arm locked around her like a steel band.
Only now she felt it. The warmth of his palms.
Her fingers, braced against his side, ca away slick and dark.
Her breath caught.
"You’re bleeding."
Ares glanced down as if mildly inconvenienced.
A spreading stain darkened the back of his shirt, just below the shoulder blade — jagged where debris or shrapnel had torn through fabric and skin. Not imdiately fatal.
But not minor either.
"It’s nothing," he said.
His voice had gone tight, the words clipped between shallow breaths he was trying very hard to control.
Lara pushed up, trying to see better. He didn’t let her go — his grip reflexively tightening, keeping her close even as she shifted.
"Ares, you’re hit."
"I said it’s nothing."
Footsteps approached fast.
Two n in tactical gear erged from between the trees, weapons lowered but not relaxed. Both froze for a fraction of a second at the sight of their commander on the ground — bleeding — holding a woman like she was the only solid thing left in the world.
"Sir—" one began.
Ares’s head snapped up.
The look he gave them could have stopped a charging animal.
"Secure the periter," he said coldly. "No one gets in or out."
"Yes, sir."
Neither man ntioned the blood. Neither man asked if he needed help.
They vanished imdiately.
Lara stared at him. "You need dical attention."
"I said I’m fine."
"You’re not fine."
She tried again to pull back.
This ti, he let her move — just enough for her to turn and see the wound properly.
It was a bad angle. The wound was deep... Still bleeding steadily.
Her stomach tightened, but her hands didn’t shake.
Another instinct rising.
Assess. Stabilize. Survive.
"We need to bandage the wound on your back," she said while tearing the hemline of her shirt.
Ares watched her, eyes narrowed — not in suspicion, but in sothing like reluctant fascination.
"You sound so experienced," Ares said while Lara continued to work on his wound.
"Basic first aid," She replied casually.
"Hold this," she ordered quietly.
For a split second, sothing like surprise flickered across his face — as if people didn’t usually tell him what to do.
Then he obeyed.
His hand ca up, holding the edge of the fabric she tore from her top while she continued to cut more and make a makeshift bandage for his wound to his back.
She pressed the folded fabric against the wound. His jaw clenched hard enough to flex the muscles along his throat, but he didn’t make a sound or pull away.
Her touch was warm and strong, and his muscles beca taut under her touch.
Then, more footsteps were heard. This ti, they ca with urgency.
A dic arrived, breathless, pack already open.
"Sir, we need to get you inside—"
"No."
The word cracked like a gunshot.
The dic froze.
"You’ve lost blood. There could be internal—"
"I said no," Ares said with finality.
Ares’s gaze slid back to Lara, locking onto her face with unsettling intensity.
Not checking if she was injured.
Checking if she was still there.
"I’m not going anywhere," he said quietly, "until she’s cleared."
The dic blinked. "Sir?"
Ares didn’t even look at him.
"Check her first."
Lara opened her mouth. "I’m fine—"
"Check. Her."
There was no room for argunt.
The dic swallowed and shifted toward her, quickly scanning for injuries, hands gentle but efficient.
"Any dizziness? Ringing in the ears? Vision problems?"
"A little ringing," she admitted.
He shone a small light into her eyes, checking pupil response.
"Likely from the flashbang. No visible trauma." He glanced uncertainly at Ares. "She appears unhard."
Ares didn’t relax. Not fully.
But sothing in his shoulders loosened — just enough to show how tightly wound he had been.
"Good," he said hoarsely.
Only then did he try to stand.
The mont he shifted his weight, his body betrayed him. His knees buckled slightly, breath hissing between his teeth as the world tilted.
Lara caught his arm before he could fall.
For a heartbeat, they froze like that — her supporting him, his weight heavy against her, his head bowed close enough that she could feel his breath against her temple.
"Stubborn," she muttered under her breath.
A faint, humorless sound escaped him. Not quite a laugh.
"Occupational hazard."
But he didn’t pull away.
If anything, he leaned into her a fraction more — not enough to be obvious, just enough to anchor himself, to siphon off a whisper of strength from her steady presence.
The shift was subtle, but it carried weight: a silent admission that his balance, his control, was fraying at the edges
The dic closed the distance in two urgent strides. "Sir, please—"
Ares exhaled through his teeth, the sound sharp with pain he refused to na. "Fine."
Then his voice dropped, roughened, stripped of its usual iron — pitched low so only she could hear, warm against her ear:
"Stay with ."
Not a command. Not really a request, either. The words carried no rank, no authority — only need. Sothing unguarded had slipped through the cracks, sothing raw and frighteningly sincere.
For a heartbeat, the man who never bent sounded like he might break — and trusted her to keep him from it.
The dic worked fast, applying an advanced hemostatic agent over his wounds and rebandaging him.
Only then did they start toward the mansion, Ares leaning on her. Their pace was slow and unsteady.
"You should let soone carry you. The mansion is still too far." Lara said.
His grip tightened on her suddenly. His head dipped closer to her ear, voice rough with pain and fading strength.
"Don’t disappear," he murmured.
The words were barely audible.
But they carried the weight of sothing far older than this mont.
"Not now."
His steps faltered again.
This ti, he didn’t try to hide it.
And for the first ti since the attack began, Lara felt sothing colder than fear settle in her chest.
Because the man holding himself together through sheer will alone...
...was starting to run out of it.
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