Chapter 20: Ghosts in the Dark

The storm didn’t bother with warnings.

It crashed in, wild and sudden wind howling at the windows, rain hammering so hard it seemed like the glass might splinter. Isla had just crossed the living room when the lights flickered twice, then went out.

The penthouse snapped to black.

She waited. Counted a couple of heartbeats.

“Power’s out,” Ares said, sounding calm, though his voice had an edge to it. He moved with a kind of focus, like he was following a plan only he knew.

Thunder exploded overhead, close enough to shake the walls.

Isla grabbed her phone. No bars. Nothing. She powered it off, and suddenly the silence between thunderclaps was louder than the storm.

“The generator should kick in,” Ares said. “But the storm’s blocking half the systems.”

Right then, dull emergency lights flickered down the hallway. Barely enough to see by. The place felt hollow, stripped of its usual protection, no city glow, no warmth, just shadows and rain clawing at the walls.

“I’ll get candles,” Isla said, already moving.

“In the study,” he called. “Second drawer.”

She paused. The study wasn’t a place she went often. It always felt too private. But she needed the light, and the darkness was crowding in.

She moved toward the faint light, the storm’s voice chasing her. The study smelled like leather and old paper. She opened the second drawer.

Candles. Matches.

Something else.

Her fingers brushed something folded in thick fabric. She frowned, pulled it out.

A watch.

Heavy. Expensive, but worn. The glass was scratched, the strap creased, and old. She flipped it over.

Stopped. Not ticking.

The hands were frozen, stuck in a single moment that never changed.

Isla swallowed.

She started to put the cloth back, but something slipped free and drifted to the floor.

A photo.

She crouched, picked it up, and caught her breath.

Two young men, arms around each other’s shoulders. One was Ares so much younger, softer, no walls built yet. The other man was grinning.

Not a practiced smile. The real kind.

Isla stood, slow. The storm roared louder, as if it could sense the change.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

Ares’ voice came from behind her.

She turned. He stood tense in the doorway, staring at what she held. The emergency light sliced hard shadows across his face, making him look older, worn.

“I was just getting candles,” she said, voice quiet.

He didn’t respond.

She held up the photo. No accusation, no drama. Just honest.

“You had a brother?”

The words landed hard.

Ares’ jaw tightened. “That’s none of your—”

“You had a brother,” she said again, softer.

Thunder crashed.

“Put it back,” he snapped.

Isla didn’t move.

“Now.”

“I didn’t know,” she said. “You never—”

“I said put it back.”

His voice broke, sharp and raw. For a moment, she thought he’d take it from her. Instead, he turned away and started pacing, restless.

The storm outside felt like it was inside now, too.

“Yes,” he said after a while, back turned. “I had a brother.”

Flat. Final.

“He was younger.” He hesitated. “Smarter than me.”

Isla stayed still.

“He’s dead.”

The words hung there, heavier than the storm.

She set the photo on the desk and placed the watch beside it. “I’m sorry,” she said just that, honestly.

Ares let out a sharp breath. “Don’t.”

She didn’t step back.

Time dragged. The rain outside eased, steady now. Ares’ shoulders dropped, just a bit.

“You didn’t kill him,” Isla said, voice careful. “But you stopped living after.”

He went still.

For a long moment, he just stood there, back to her.

When he finally turned, his mask was back, but thinner now barely covering the cracks.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “But I know what it looks like when someone buries their grief for too long.”

Silence stretched, thick and heavy.

Ares moved through the room, slow and deliberate. He took the watch, wrapped it in the cloth almost tenderly, as if it mattered more than it should. Then, without warning, he offered it to Isla.

“Keep it safe,” he murmured. His voice was quiet. “Just tonight.”

That was trust, heavy as stone and silent.

She only nodded.

The emergency lights flickered above them. The storm was easing at last, leaving the city slick and breathing easier. Down on the street, the generators hummed back to life. But the moment between them was already gone.

Isla stepped aside to let him be. He didn’t try to hold her back.

As she walked away, her eyes lingered on a photograph on the desk. Two brothers, caught in a happier time, before the world claimed what it wanted.

Some men guarded empires.

Ares guarded ghosts.