Page 43 of Atlas and the Traitor

“Yes, but I went in as a spy first.”

“What changed?”

“I got tired, same as you, of being a pawn. She promised me freedom, independence. But if she, Evan, and Chaos get what they want?—”

“There’ll be no place left worth being free in.”

A light flickered on across the street, Karoline entered the room, and for one terrifying, heart-stopping second, Robin thought he’d lost him, Atlas snapping right out from in front of him.

But a single beat of Robin’s heart later, Atlas appeared behind him, hidden in the shadows, out of the moonlight that had broken through the clouds and shown exactly where he’d been standing.

“Fuck,” Robin cursed.

Atlas clasped the outsides of his shoulders. “I needed to act fast. And so do you. You need to get to the pack.”

Robin spun to face him. “What? I haven’t—” The phone in his pocket buzzed.

“You need to go.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Still just Karoline in the room. “Atlas...”

“Hey,” he said softly, and just as gently grasped his chin and used it to draw his attention back to him. “She won’t hurt me.”

Except for the hit his soul would take when he had to kill again, like it had when he’d killed Daphne. But if Daphne hadn’t known about Mary, Robin was sure now that Atlas would have... “You’re going to give her a chance to change her mind, aren’t you?”

He pressed his lips together.

And Robin jumped to the next logical conclusion. “Same as you’re going to give your brother.”

He slid the hand on his jaw higher, cupping his cheek. “I promise, you will still get what you deserve.” Robin wanted to argue but the phone in his pocket buzzed again. Atlas firmed the grip on his face. “Go.”

Robin returned the hold and drew Atlas closer, nose to nose, growling a “Yours” against his lips.

Atlas’s “Mine” bled into a kiss that was wild and peaceful all at once, that made Robin’s soul settle in that certain way his mother had talked about in her letters. Like Mac must have found with Paris, like Adam with Icarus, and before that with David and Deborah, like his and Deb’s mother had shared with their father.

Like maybe he’d found freedom.

Thirty

Each mile closer to the pack homestead made Robin more uneasy.

Not because he’d left his mate in the Canyon Lands. Atlas could take care of himself. The warlock had made it fuck-all-knew how long before their paths had crossed.

And not because Robin was breaking a promise returning here. Jenn had called; he answered.

And not even because Jenn had needed to call him; crisis at this point was inevitable.

No, it wasn’t anything so monumental, more a sense of absence he couldn’t put his finger on, a chill crawling up his spine, a smell that was unmistakable as he neared the lake where he and Atlas had shared a joint and gotten off together a few days ago.

Unlike then, it was the middle of the night, pitch black outside, the trees still dripping from the earlier rain. And someone was dead in these woods.

He wasn’t surprised when a violet-eyed Liam sailed overhead, croaking a mournfulKraa. He circled once more, anotherKraato alert Jenn, Jason, and Abigail to his presence. A quick change of clothes later, Robin emerged from the woods to join them.

“Pati or one of the team?” he asked his cousin. Jenn wouldn’t have called him here for just any dead pack member; he’d missed plenty of those over the years. This one had to involve one of their team or Pati and Pax, who were being moved between safe houses daily.

“Pati,” she answered. “Still alive, we think, but her escorts…” She ran a hand over her head, growling when she met her ponytail holder. “They were taking her and Pax to the handoff spot.” Her voice was rough, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. “Fuck, I should have gone with them.”

“Liam and I were supposed to meet them,” Jason said, then cast his gaze aside. “Paris met them first. He called us, and I called Jenn.”

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