Arthur's POV.
The moment I opened the door to my dorm, I knew.
The lights were on. The air too still. And someone was in my space.
I stepped in slowly, letting the door shut behind me.
And there he was.
Ares Gray—legs kicked up on my glass coffee table like he lived here, one arm draped over the back of the couch, tossing a familiar silver coin between his fingers like it held the weight of the world.
"You rearranged," he said casually, glancing around the room. "Didn't expect velvet curtains. Little dramatic, even for you."
I didn't say a word.
I just stared.
"You're not surprised to see me?" he asked.
"I'm not sure if I'm awake."
He grinned. "Oh, you're awake. Just a little slow."
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "What are you doing here, Ares?"
"I missed you too."
"Ares."
He sighed like I was ruining his fun. "Relax, big brother. This is just a visit. A family check-in."
"Since when do you check in?"
"Since you started acting out of character."
That got my attention.
He stood up slowly, flipping the coin once more before slipping it back into his pocket. His posture shifted—casual turning calculated in one breath.
"You always play it straight. Cold. Smart. You're not the type to drag a half-conscious girl out of a club like a knight in shining black."
I stiffened. "Isla needed help."
"She always does." His eyes gleamed. "But since when do you offer it?"
I didn't answer.
Ares took a step closer. "She's not just some girl, is she?"
I didn't flinch.
Didn't breathe.
But Ares… he smiled.
Gotcha.
"You're slipping, Arthur," he said, softer now. Not mocking. Not quite. "And you know what happens to Grays who slip."
I looked him in the eye. "So you're here to watch me fall?"
"No," he murmured. "I'm here to decide if I should catch you… or push harder."
He stepped past me, brushing my shoulder with deliberate calm.
"You've got a few days before this place eats her alive," he added, pausing at the door. "And when it does… don't expect me to save either of you."
He added in a dramatic end of tone.
The door clicked shut behind him.
And I was left standing in silence—with the echo of his coin still spinning in my head.
The door clicked shut behind Ares.
And suddenly, it was just me.
And the silence.
Ares never stayed long—not unless he was planning something. But tonight felt different. He hadn't come to stir chaos. Not really. He came to observe. To watch. To measure how far I've strayed.
And he had that damn coin again.
I sank into the armchair, the one by the window. My fingers laced together as I stared ahead, not really seeing.
Ares Gray. My younger brother by just one year. But you'd never know it.
He was… different. Always had been. The way he cared was dangerous. Fierce. Untamed. He didn't love lightly or hate halfway. There was no middle ground with him. If he liked you, you'd feel it like fire. If he didn't, you'd barely survive the burn.
People often mistook him for reckless.
They were wrong.
He was intentional. Every joke, every grin, every sarcastic jab—it was all calculated. And beneath it all was something even colder than our father's silence: purpose.
And yet, unlike Isla's world of sharp-edged parents and high-heeled tyranny, the Grays weren't cruel. Not out loud. Our mother was warm, elegant, and always composed, even when our father froze the room with just a stare. And Ares… he never feared that cold. He challenged it. Pushed it back with fire.
I didn't.
I adapted.
That was the difference between us.
"The Real Ares Luciano Gray"
Ares lit matches in dark rooms. I stood still, letting my eyes adjust.
And now… Isla.
Isla with her golden strands and sharp tongue. Isla with her broken pieces hidden behind eyes that saw too much. I should've never crossed the line with her. Should've left her alone the moment I knew who she was.
But I didn't.
And now Ares knows.
Which means our father will know—if he doesn't already.
And if he does…
This won't just be about war between houses.
It'll be about me.
Choosing sides.
And the truth is…
I'm not sure I'm still on mine.