SOLANE Ares didn’t knock.It was the fourth night. Matteo had left an hour ago after bringing me dinner—a ritual that had become uncomfortably domestic, the two of us eating in silence while something electric hummed beneath the surface. He’d kissed my forehead before leaving, which had confused me more than anything else he’d done, and I was lying in bed replaying it when the door swung open and Ares walked in like he owned the room. Which, technically, he did.He was different from his brother in every way that mattered in the dark. Where Matteo was restrained, Ares was uncontained. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, his hair dishevelled, and there was a bruise on his jaw that looked fresh. His eyes found me in the dim light and the look in them made my stomach flip—not fear, not exactly. Anticipation.“Matteo’s been hogging you,” he said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under him in a way it never did under his brother, like even furniture responded differently
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