"You didn't kill them. It was an accident."
Asher laughed bitterly.
"That's not what the police report says."
"The report says it was an accident."
"I was driving the truck. And I got distracted."
"Their car came fast, from a blind spot."
Ares' voice cut through the air. Sharp. Certain.
"But people think I was at fault."
Asher looked away. Because part of him always had.
Silence stretched between them again.
Ares spoke again, his voice quieter this time — but somehow heavier.
"I already told you. The military isn't for you."
His gaze slid toward Asher, steady and cold.
"You're not cut out for it."
Asher's expression hardened instantly.
"And who are you to decide what's right for me?"
His voice sharpened like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.
A muscle twitched along Ares' jaw.
For a moment he said nothing. The night wind swept across the balcony, stirring the curtains behind them.
Then Ares answered calmly.
"I'm not deciding anything for you."
