Page 74 of Atlas
The guilt crashes over him like a wave. It’s written all over his face, etched into every line, every shadow. I feel it too, the fact I talked him into going against everything he believes in.He’s not a cheat.
I step towards the door, but pause, turning back. He’s looking at the floor, jaw locked, hands clenched into fists.
“Atlas—”
“I shouldn’t have come,” he mutters, voice low and wrecked. “This was a mistake.”
Atlas
My jaw is tight, breath ragged, hands twitching at my sides like they don’t know what to do now that they’re not on her body. My skin still remembers the way she felt. The sound she made whenI touched her. The way her mouth knew exactly how to get my attention.
Fuck.
Her cheeks are flushed, but it’s not embarrassment. It’s grief. For what we almost did. For what westill wantand keep pretending we don’t.
I stare at the mess in the apartment. At the broken furniture. The chaos. It's safer to look at that than her.
The knocking comes again, and Anita jumps in fright, rushing to answer.
I turn to stare out the window. I’m a prick who almost fucked his ex on a pile of shattered glass while the girl I’m actually falling for waits at home, thinking I’m out doing club business.Fuck, I hate myself.
I close my eyes, pressing the heels of my hands to them.
Jesus.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Tom walks in like he owns the place, confident, collected, sharp suit and sharper stare. He clocks the mess immediately, then her, then me.
“Anita.” His voice is calm but concerned. “Are you okay?”
She nods. “I’m fine now. Atlas got here.”
His gaze shifts to me, lingering. “Atlas Rowe?”
I nod once, wary. “That a problem?”
He lifts his brows. “Not for me. You’re with the Chaos Demons, right?”
I grunt a yes. It’s not unusual for anyone in the field to know the club, we’ve been through our fair share of court rooms. And I can almost read his mind, even though his expression remains neutral. I’m the kind of man Anitashouldn’tbe involved with, especially not when she’s vulnerable.
He pulls his phone out and starts snapping photos of the damage, every broken chair leg, every cracked picture frame. Ican feel Anita watching me, but I don’t look at her. I can’t. My skin feels too tight, like I’m crawling inside it.
She cheated death tonight.
And I cheated on Rue.
Anita doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s just instinct, old feelings flaring up, my protectiveness spilling over. But the way my body responded to her? That wasn’t just instinct, it was feelings and emotion. A need I can’t seem to gratify.
It’s something I’ve been trying to bury since Rue came into my life.
Now, all I feel is guilt.
Tom finishes his sweep and says something to Anita about uploading everything to his file, but I barely register it. I just keep staring at the spot on the couch where I had her in my lap. Where I would’ve taken her if the knock hadn’t come.
She moves towards me after Tom walks into the kitchen, dropping his voice as he calls someone.
“I didn’t mean to complicate things,” she says softly, voice edged with something that sounds like regret.
