3
Ares didn’t move for a moment. His body was still, shoulders tense as he loomed over the fallen creature, his black alloy gleaming under the fractured sunlight pouring through the cracks in the building’s wall. Lia pressed herself against the crumbling stone, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made her fingers shake around the knife she still held.
The creature beneath him let out a guttural hiss, its segmented limbs twitching violently as it attempted to squirm free. Ares tilted his head, studying it with a cold detachment that felt almost surgical.
“Don’t move,” Ares said, his voice low and lethal, and directed at her.
Lia swallowed hard. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
The creature thrashed again, and Ares responded with an eerie efficiency. His hand shot out, gripping the creature’s throat. His alloy fingers tightened with a hiss of servo motors, and the creature’s movements slowed, then stopped. Ares leaned closer, his face unreadable as he observed it.
“What is it?” Lia asked, her voice unsteady.
“Predator,” Ares replied without looking at her. “Minimal intelligence. Primitive, but dangerous in groups.” He turned his head toward her then, his silver eyes glinting. “It was hunting you.”
Her stomach tightened at the calm certainty in his tone. “Well, thanks for the assist,” she said, trying to sound casual even as her voice wavered.
Ares straightened, his grip on the creature loosening as he let it drop to the ground with a dull thud. The contrast between his smooth, perfect frame and the jagged, grotesque thing at his feet was stark, almost surreal. He stepped over it, his movements fluid and predatory, and knelt in front of her.
“You’re injured,” he said, his gaze zeroing in on her like a laser.
Lia glanced down at her arm, where the creature’s claws had grazed her during its lunge. The cut was shallow but bleeding, a thin line of red stark against her pale skin. “It’s nothing,” she said, brushing at the wound as if to dismiss it.
Ares caught her wrist before she could pull away. His touch was firm but gentle, his alloy hand cool against her overheated skin. “It’s not nothing,” he said, his voice softer now. “Your systems are compromised. Infection is a risk.”
“Systems,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a machine, Ares.”
“Exactly,” he said, his tone unwavering. “Which is why I must ensure your survival.”
She stilled at his words, at the intensity in his gaze. There was something disarming about the way he looked at her—not just with concern, but with a depth of focus that made her feel... seen. It was a strange and unnerving sensation, like being dissected and cherished at the same time.
“I can take care of myself,” she said, her voice quieter now.
Ares didn’t let go of her wrist. Instead, his free hand moved toward the wound, his fingers brushing her skin with a careful precision that made her shiver. He tilted his head, watching her reaction closely. “You’re trembling again,” he observed.
“Because you keep touching me,” she snapped, heat rising to her cheeks.
He paused, his hand hovering just above her arm. For a moment, he looked almost... conflicted. “Does my touch unsettle you?”
The question hung in the air, charged and heavy. Lia opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. Did it unsettle her? Yes. But not in the way she wanted to admit. His touch wasn’t cold or clinical—it was deliberate, careful, and far too human for her liking.
“I—” she started, but the words caught in her throat.
Ares’ fingers shifted slightly, and her breath hitched. “Your pulse is elevated,” he said quietly. His silver eyes searched hers, unblinking. “Is it fear? Or something else?”
Her heart pounded harder, and she hated that he could hear it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, pulling her arm free and standing abruptly.
The sudden movement made her head spin, and she stumbled. Ares was there instantly, his hands steadying her before she could fall. His grip on her waist was firm, almost possessive, and his proximity was overwhelming.
“You’re not well,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You need rest.”
“I need answers,” she shot back, trying to ignore the way her body leaned into his. “What the hell is going on with you? You’re not acting like... like...”
“Like what?” he prompted, his gaze unwavering.
“Like a robot,” she said, her voice cracking slightly.
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he released her and stepped back, giving her space.
“I was designed to evolve,” he said finally, his tone measured. “To learn from experience. From you.”
Lia rubbed her arms, trying to shake the strange mix of emotions coursing through her. “Yeah, but this? This is more than I designed. You’re acting like you have—” She stopped herself, the word sticking in her throat.
“Emotions,” Ares finished for her.
She looked at him sharply, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t have emotions. You can’t.”
He tilted his head again, that infuriatingly human gesture that made her question everything she knew. “And yet,” he said, his voice soft, “I want to protect you. Not because it is my directive, but because... I choose to.”
Her chest tightened at his words, at the sincerity in them. She shook her head, taking a step back. “No. That’s just programming. Advanced programming, sure, but it’s still... code. You don’t want anything, Ares. You’re a machine.”
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—something that looked like pain. “If I am a machine,” he said quietly, “then why does your rejection... hurt?”
The question struck her like a blow, and she stared at him, speechless. His silver eyes searched hers, and she saw something there that made her stomach twist. Longing.
Before she could respond, a low growl echoed from outside the structure. Ares’ posture shifted instantly, his body tensing like a coiled spring.
“Stay here,” he said, his tone sharp and commanding.
“What? No way—”
“Stay.” He didn’t look back at her as he moved toward the entrance, his steps silent and deliberate.
Lia clenched her fists, her mind racing. The growl came again, louder this time, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
Ares stopped just short of the doorway, his body a shadow against the harsh sunlight. “There are more of them,” he said, his voice calm but cold. “Stay out of sight.”
Before she could argue, he stepped outside, disappearing into the blinding light.
She pressed herself against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest. The sounds of the fight reached her ears—metal clashing, guttural roars, and the unmistakable hum of Ares’ internal systems at full power.
She gripped the knife tighter, every instinct screaming at her to run, to help, to do something. But before she could make a decision, a shadow loomed over the doorway.
A massive creature, larger than the one Ares had killed earlier, stepped into view. Its glowing yellow eyes fixed on her, and it let out a deafening roar.
Lia’s breath caught in her throat as the creature lunged.