Page 68 of Atlas

Seeing it bite into Atlas’ bare arms is worse than being tied up myself.

“Phil, please!” Agatha begs.

Phil? This is Phil? As in… hersonPhil?

He whips Atlas’ phone out and picks mine up. He pops out the SIM cards and breaks them in half, disposing of the batteries after. Once that’s done, he snaps his head up, face contorted with rage like this is inconvenient forhim.

He points the gun directly at his mother with an expression so unhinged that I take her hand in mine and clench it tightly. She gasps loudly, but only whimpers when Phil directs his rage fest at me.

“I’m going to ask this once and once only before I start maiming him.” He whips the gun in Atlas’ direction. I still can’tlook at him, but only because I’m afraid if I do, Phil will keep the gun trained on him, or use it. “Where is my money?”

“I- I- we gave it back to the rightful owner. She claimed it,” I stammer.

“I tried to tell you that,” Agatha whispers, clearly trying to not antagonize her son further. It doesn’t work. His lip curls up in a savage sneer.

“I hid that money. It wasmine. We might have stolen it together, but she had no right to take it.”

“Who?” It’s probably not smart to ask questions, but I can’t think of anything to do other than to buy time. I don’t know if Wizard is tracking Atlas’ phone or not, but there was a signal when we got here and if we haven’t checked in with him, maybe he’ll get suspicious.

Ifhe’s tracking Atlas’ phone.

Ifhe even has time to get suspicious.

Those are big ifs, and then there’s the fact that we’re an hour away from Hart.

“My wife,” Phil snarls, forcing out the words like a glob of spittle.

“She has the money.” That only makes Phil’s face darken and I swallow thickly. “She’s clearly taken it and run. She could be anywhere by now. We don’t have anything more than that. I don’t… we don’t know anything else.”

Phil starts shaking his head. It creeps me right the fuck out when he doesn’t stop doing it. He keeps thrashing it from side to side so violently that his neck groans and creaks.

“No!” He shouts, slamming his way over to me. He picks me up by the front of my shirt and shakes me. Hard.

My teeth knock together and I’m so scared that I can’t move. I can’t kick him in the balls or try and get his gun from him like I should. My own body betrays me.

“You stupid cow. That wasmymoney!”

I have no idea who Phil and his wife stole the money from, or how she was involved, but it’s clear from the haunted, crazed light in his eyes that someone expects to be paid, in part or in full, and if not, they’re going to exact some kind of retribution. He’s all hunted and not the hunter.

“Ineedto get that money,” he yells, beads of spittle landing all over my face. An angry vein throbs in his forehead.

“I’m s-sorry,” I stammer, turning my face to the side, my teeth clashing together. “I can’t help you. I don’t know where it is. We tried to do the right thing and give it back, no questions asked.”

“That’s what I told him,” Agatha whispers again. I turn my face just enough to see her bowed head, the frizzy white hair falling forward and sticking up at all angles. She looks emotionally beaten, a scared little old lady. The kick-ass grandma nowhere in sight.

A hot surge of grief and wrath shoot through me again, followed by a protective urge so strong that it knocks the breath from me.

I cautiously look at Atlas from under lowered lashes. How can blank his face like that and be so composed? He’s shutting down and not willing to give Phil anything. He very subtlyshakes his head at me, warning me not to do anything crazy like try and defend myself and rescue us all.

Phil shakes me again, but my eyes stay on Atlas’ face the whole time. I watch the shadow flash there, a ghost of violence that he can’t contain. “Your club is complacent.Pathetic. Who gives back that kind of money with just a warning? If they had any sense, they’d be ruthless and exercise their right to it in order to preserve their own lives. Their goodness will be their downfall. Trying to play the hero only ever makes you one thing and it’s not noble.”

“Compassion isn’t stupid.”

Phil shoves me back onto the couch and points the gun directly at me. I’ve never gone so stiff or so cold that it happens on a cellular level.

His dark eyes scrape over me, his lips thinning out like his patience. “I don’t believe you. That’s too stupid.”

His hard stare never wavers, but neither does mine. I try to channel Atlas’ flat expression and his unassailable calm. “If you won’t tell me the truth, I’ll have to convince you.”

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