Ares didn't answer.
His attention cut past everything else in the world and settled on Lara.
Not on her face.
Not at first.
His gaze dragged over her with slow, deliberate precision — from the copper strands of her ponytail damp against the graceful line of her neck… down the clean, fitted contours of her top clinging to her still-warm skin… to the curve of her hips… the long strength of her legs moving beside another man…
…and then back up again.
His gaze was possessive, measuring and shamelessly territorial.
As if he were cataloguing what belonged to him — and noting exactly who had been standing too close.
Heat crept up Lara's spine despite the cool air.
When his gaze finally reached her eyes, it hit like ice water.
Cold enough to frost glass. Sharp enough to cut.
He said nothing. He didn't need to. He just stared.
And somehow, that silence felt far more dangerous than words.
Lara's pulse stumbled.
Because for one terrifying second—
