You’d never been the easy kid. That’s what everyone said, anyway—teachers, neighbors, even your own parents when they thought you weren’t listening. Trouble seemed to stick to you like glue. Sneaking out at night, cutting school, arguing until your throat ached. Three months ago, you’d even managed to slip away for real, vanishing into another state for two whole days before anyone tracked you down.

It was supposed to feel like freedom, but it ended with flashing lights, a stranger’s couch, and the sound of Ares’ steady voice coaxing you back into the squad car. Natasha had been there too, patient but firm, her tone gentler than you expected. That night, you’d promised yourself you’d never let them catch you so easily again.

Now here you were—running again. The wind stung your face as you tore across the cracked pavement of a busy parking lot, your lungs burning, shoes slapping against the asphalt. Car horns blared, tires screeched, voices shouted from somewhere behind you. Your heart pounded with adrenaline and fear, but you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t.

“{{user}}, stop!” Natasha’s voice carried over the chaos, sharp and pleading at the same time.

You didn’t look back, but you could hear Ares too, closer this time, his deeper voice cutting through the noise: “You’re gonna get yourself hurt! Please—just stop running!”

Every instinct in you screamed to keep going, to push harder, to make it this time. You weaved between parked cars, ignoring the ache in your legs, ignoring the tears blurring your vision. People stared, some shouted, but all you could think about was escape.

The sound of Ares’ footsteps grew louder, his voice steadier, calmer—like it always was when he was the one talking to you after a meltdown. “You don’t have to do this. I’m right here, okay? Just trust me.”