Chapter 150 CHAPTER 150
The Beginning of War
The cold air outside the police station felt almost unnatural, too sharp, too clean, too bright for the night Ares had just lived through. When the metal doors slid open and he stepped out, he looked like a man carved out of exhaustion, eyes bloodshot, shirt wrinkled, knuckles bruised from where he’d slammed the wall of the holding cell more times than he could count.
He didn’t lift his head immediately. He blinked against the streetlights as though they were mocking him. The past hour replayed in sharp, ugly flashes, Marcus smirking at him during the arrest, Tessa standing frozen in shock, wedding confetti falling while he was dragged away in handcuffs.
His entire life felt like it had flipped inside out in one single moment.
A car door slammed.
“Ares!”
Julian jogged toward him, breathless, his jacket half buttoned, hair a little wild as if he had been pulling on it. The tension in his face was obvious, fear, worry, and a touch of anger all mixed into one.
Ares didn’t move.
“Let’s go,” Julian said, reaching for him. “You’re out. You’re good.”
Ares lifted his eyes slowly. They were hollow. Shattered. And underneath the devastation, something far more dangerous simmered there, something sharp and cold and deeply awake.
“How did you get me out?” he asked quietly.
Julian swallowed. “Money. A lot of money. And favors I didn’t want to use but fuck it, Ares, you’re my bro. I wasn’t about to leave you inside.”
Ares nodded once. A silent gratitude. But no softness. No relief.
He walked past Julian and got into the passenger seat of the car. His hands were trembling slightly, though whether from anger or shock, even he couldn’t tell yet.
Julian got in behind the wheel.
The car started.
For several moments, they drove in silence, the city lights sliding across Ares’ face like ghosts. His breathing was steady, but his chest felt tight, like every inhale scraped his ribs.
“You could’ve been charged,” Julian muttered. “Marcus didn’t hold back. He wanted you buried in there.”
Ares’ jaw flexed. “I know.”
Julian glanced at him nervously. “Are you okay?”
Ares let out a harsh laugh, one without humor, without warmth. “No, Julian. I’m not okay. I watched my father marry the woman I…”
He stopped himself, the words backing up like knives in his throat.
He didn’t need to say it. Julian already knew.
Ares scrubbed his hands over his face. “We need to move.”
Julian nodded slowly. “Move how?”
Ares turned to him, and Julian flinched at the expression he saw there. It wasn’t grief anymore. It wasn’t shock.
It was war.
Ares pulled out his phone with hands that had finally gone still. His thumb slid across the screen with mechanical precision as he opened a contact labeled:
Weston—Attorney
He pressed call.
Julian kept driving in silence.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Then, “Ares? Jesus Christ, I just saw the arrest report…”
“I need an emergency injunction filed tonight,” Ares said, voice steel. “Against the wedding. Against any legal binding between Tessa Monroe and Marcus Langford. I want a block on marital consolidation, estate transfers, will adjustments, corporate board shifts, everything.”
There was a stunned pause.
“Ares,” his lawyer said carefully, “you do understand the court may not grant this? The marriage has already been officiated…”
“I don’t care,” Ares cut in. “File it anyway. I need an immediate hearing. First thing tomorrow morning.”
“Ares…”
“Do it,” Ares snapped.
A long exhale. “Alright. I’ll get started. I’ll call the judge I know.”
Ares hung up. Another silence filled the car, thick and dangerous.
Then Ares opened another contact.
Hawthorne Investigations
“Ares Langford,” answered a deep voice. “It’s been a while.”
“I need everything you can dig up on my father, Marcus Langford,” Ares said. “Financial discrepancies. Hidden accounts. Bribes. Business partners. Shell companies. Illegal dealings. Tax fraud. Blackmail. I don’t care how deep you have to go.”
Another pause.
“Are you sure?” Hawthorne asked. “He’s your father.”
Ares’ expression didn’t shift. “Not anymore.”
Julian glanced at him from the corner of his eye but said nothing.
Hawthorne’s tone sharpened. “Consider it already in motion.”
Ares ended the call.
He leaned back in the seat and finally exhaled, the breath shaky but controlled.
Julian gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Ares…what are you planning?”
Ares didn’t answer.
His phone buzzed.
Lady Bianca.
He hesitated before opening it. His heart clenched. For the first time since stepping out of the police station, true emotion flickered across his face.
He opened the message.
Don’t come home tonight.
He is planning something.
—Mother
The words punched the air right out of him.
Hus mother… warning him?
In her condition?
Julian leaned over. “What is it?”
Ares didn’t answer. He stared at the message for several seconds, long enough for the reality to hit him again:
His own father had him arrested.
His own father was moving against him.
His own father stole Tessa.
Ares inhaled sharply through his nose.
He typed back.
He took Tessa.
Now I’m taking everything from him.
He sent it.
The bubble turned blue.
He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the rage and heartbreak and betrayal to settle into something clean and lethal.
Purpose.
Julian whispered, “Ares…this is going to get ugly.”
Ares looked out the window, watching the city stretch by, cold and indifferent.
“It already is.”