Page 153 of Crown of Lies

Atlas didn’t make it? Atlas is gone?

No. Fuck, no. I refuse to believe it. Still, a sick feeling twists in my stomach, and a distinct sense of dread starts creeping up my spine.

They both nod, the weight of their silence crushing me.

“There was a pool of blood on the floor in the back,” Nico continues. “Broken glass, several dead bodies—bodies of themercenaries, mostly, from what I could tell. But no sign of Atlas.”

I shake my head, still unwilling to accept what they’re telling me. “No,” I whisper, “that can’t be right. He has to be somewhere. Maybe he got away, maybe?—”

Nico’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently. “He would’ve made contact by now. With his last breath, he would’ve called or sent word or… something.”

As much as I hate to hear it, I know he’s telling the truth. There’s a haunted look in his eyes—in Killian’s too—and it’s a pain I’ve never seen before. It’s raw and visceral, like they’ve lost a piece of themselves.

Because they have.

The realization hits me so hard that I feel myself starting to crumble. Memories flash through my mind, hazy and disjointed. Atlas’s face, worried and determined, swimming into focus as I struggled against the drugs in my system. His strong arms holding me up, his voice urgent in my ear.

“Stay with me, vicious. Come on, stay awake.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to hold on to that memory, to make sense of it. But it slips away, leaving me with nothing but an aching emptiness.

When I open my eyes again, I look from Killian to Nico, then back again.

“You’ve been looking for him,” I whisper.

It’s not a question. I know it’s a fact.

Killian nods, his jaw clenched tight. “Every minute since it happened. We’ve called in every favor, turned over every stone.”

“But… nothing,” Nico finishes, his voice rough with emotion.

I’ve seen a lot of death in my life. Caused a lot. But this loss is too big, too overwhelming. Atlas, gone? It doesn’t make sense. It can’t be real.

But they wouldn’t lie about this, wouldn’t give up hope if there was any chance…

A sob builds in my chest, threatening to tear me apart.

I open my mouth to say something, to ask another question, but the words die in my throat as my phone starts to ring. The sound cuts through the heavy silence of the room, making us all jump.

For a moment, I just stare at it, my heart racing. Who could be calling? We’re supposed to be laying low. No contact.

With shaking hands, I reach for the phone. The number on the screen is unfamiliar, but something tells me I need to answer it. I hit the speaker button, my voice barely above a whisper as I say, “Hello?”

“Ah, Quinn. So good to hear your voice again.” The rough, familiar tone sends a chill down my spine.Ambrose. “I trust the drugs are wearing off by now? I really hope you’re feeling better.”

My blood runs cold. I look up at Nico and Killian, their faces mirroring the shock and anger I feel.

“I waited to call, you see,” Ambrose continues, his voice dripping with false concern. “I wanted to make sure you’d be awake and… coherent for our little chat.”

I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. “What do you want?” I manage to croak out.

Ambrose chuckles, the sound sending another wave of nausea through me. “Oh, dear girl. We have so much to talk about.”

“Where’s Atlas?” I demand, thankful that the trembling and the desperation is finally gone from my voice. All that’s left now is steely, hard anger. “What have you done with him?”

Ambrose’s laughter crackles through the phone, cold and cruel. “Oh, he’s right here.”

My heart leaps into my throat, a surge of hope coursing through me. I grip the phone tighter, knuckles turning white. “Let me talk to him.”

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