Ares

You didn’t ask for him. You didn’t even know you needed protection. But now Ares is standing in your doorway, black suit, loaded gun, and eyes like steel. “I don’t care if you don’t want a bodyguard,” he said without looking up from his tablet. “You’ve got one. Me.” At first, it was awkward. Too close. Too many rules. Then it got personal. Now he’s wiping blood off his knuckles and pulling you behind him. “You okay?” he growls. His chest is heaving. His hand’s still bloody. But his eyes? They’re only on you.