Ares shot a narrow look back over his shoulder. "He won't. It's carved into his flesh. He won't be able to go a single day without remembering, even assuming he lives." Finishing the whiskey, he went to pour another. "It was Tragos who lead the plot, and he's dead. And good riddance. I've had enough of him pawing over Marcella, his stupid fucking, "she makes me a better fighter, sir". She can go back to serving my wife, where she belongs, and forget the whole Murphy clan."
He was going to forget the Murphys, just as quickly as he could drink them out of his mind.