Page 41 of Crown of Lies

He gives me a hard look, no doubt frustrated that I won’t simply sit quietly in my room for days on end while he’s on guard duty. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

I roll my eyes, unsurprised. “Of course you are. God forbid I take a single step without my watchdog.”

I can tell he’s biting back his own sharp reply, and I wait a beat to hear it, just in case. I didn’t come out here looking for a fight, but I’m more than happy to have one.

At least I could blow off a little fucking steam that way.

Instead, he gestures for me to lead the way, his face settling into that mask of cold indifference I’ve grown to hate.

There’s no sign of Killian or Nico downstairs, but it’s still pretty early.

Good. The last thing I want to do right now is explain myself to them too.

“Where to first?” Atlas asks once we’ve made it to our bikes in the garage.

I hesitate, running through the mental list I’ve been compiling since last night. “There’s a diner downtown where my dad used to meet with some buddies every once in a while. We can start there.”

As we drive, my mind races with possibilities. What if my father really was involved in something fucked up? What if I find out he wasn’t the man I thought he was?

I try to push the thoughts away, focusing on the steady growl of our engines, but the anxiety creeps back in as we get closer to the greasy old hangout downtown. I just can’t help but wonder if I’m ready for what we might find.

My frustration is almost boilingover as we leave yet another dead fucking end. We’ve been at this for hours, visiting every haunt and hole-in-the-wall place my dad frequented, questioning old friends and acquaintances. Nothing. Not even a whisper of anything out of the ordinary.

The sun beats down mercilessly as we walk back to our bikes. I can feel sweat trickling down my back, my mood souring with each step. This wild goose chase is getting us nowhere.

I catch Atlas watching me out of the corner of my eye. “What?” I snap, not in the mood for his scrutiny.

He raises an eyebrow. “You tell me. You’re the one scowling at the ground.”

Before I can even think to stop myself, words start tumbling out. “It’s just… I don’t know. This whole thing is messing with my head. I keep thinking about my dad, wondering if he really had some big secret he never told me about.”

I run a hand through my hair, frustration evident in every movement. “We were close, you know? I always thought we told each other everything. The idea that he might’ve been involved in something like this and kept it from me… it hurts. And then it makes me wonder what else I don’t know, or whether I can trust anyone at all.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I shouldn’t be sharing this with Atlas, of all people. He’s not my friend anymore. He’s not my lover. He’s not myanything.

But when I look up, ready to brush off my moment of weakness, I’m caught off guard by the expression on his face. For a brief second, I see a flicker of the old Atlas—the one who used to listen to my problems, who cared.

Then, just as quickly, the mask slips back into place. He clears his throat, looking away. “Sometimes parents hide things from you to protect you.”

I glance over and flash him a wry smile. “You didn’t kill your mom when you were little too, did you?”

His head snaps towards me, eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, he’s caught off guard, and I can see the wheels turning in his head.

“Killian told you about that?” he asks, his voice low and controlled.

I nod, watching his reaction carefully. It’s not often I see Atlas thrown off balance, and I can’t help but feel a small thrill of satisfaction.

He lets out a slow breath. “He doesn’t tell many people about that.”

Slowly, belatedly, the implication hits me. Killian told me. Why? What made me different from the others?

Atlas’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “No, I didn’t kill either of my parents.”

A memory surfaces of a time when Atlas mentioned his father’s death. “But someone did kill your dad, right?”

The change is instant. His face closes off, his jaw clenching. He doesn’t answer, just stares straight ahead, his whole body radiating tension.

I know I should drop it, but curiosity is eating me up inside. There’s clearly a story there, one that he doesn’t want to share.

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