Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ATLAS
Either Mitchell is an absolute idiot or Keegan didn’t tell him a damn thing about what he was actually up against, because there are only three men guarding the outside of the building. Not only that, but there are at least three ways to get inside without being seen from the front entrance.
It gives me pause—because this could be the most elaborate trap I’ve ever encountered… or it’s like the assassin who came to Calvin’s apartment.
Purposefully incompetent.
I don’t understand the point of it, but I’m not going to argue when it lets me kill the men outside silently so I can get inside just in time to see Calvin on the ground.
He’s a little bloody, and I berate myself for not getting to him sooner, but it was important to make sure the only person alive is the asshole above him.
Not that he’s going to be alive for long.
But… I don’t know how long it’s going to take Calvin to finish this, and I want to give him the option of being the one who does.
It doesn’t stop me from stepping forward and snaking one arm around the asshole’s throat so I can jerk him off balance with the choke hold. He starts to struggle, but the feel of my gun pressing against the side of his head seems to make him think twice.
It’s almost anticlimactic on my part, but judging by the blood on him and Calvin, it seems like I missed most of the fight.
My eyes flicker past Mitchell’s shoulder and I feel my expression go slightly soft.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
Calvin takes a second to gather himself, but when he stands, his posture is strong. Confident. Like it’s giving him something back to be facing down the asshole in front of him, even if it did come to violence.
“I will be,” he says softly, though I notice he’s still keeping distance between us.
“Sweetheart? Fuck, this is who you picked over me? You really must be—” I let out a low sound and squeeze the bend of my elbow against his throat, cutting off his words with a choking, pathetic sound.
He tries to reel back against me, and I dig the barrel of my gun so hard into his skull that there’d be bruises if I planned to leave him alive and in enough pieces long enough for them to form.
But I don’t.
This is going to end soon one way or another.
“Calvin.” I say his name softly. I can see all the pain, all the years of agony that this man has caused him, both from when they were together and the deep betrayal of today.
But beneath that, I can see a quiet strength, that ferocity that drew me to him to begin with.
It’s there, and it’s the reason he’s standing, the reason he jerks his chin up as he looks Mitchell over.
“This is the man I’d pick over you every day.” Calvin’s eyes lift to mine. “He’s the man I’ll always choose.”
Oh shit. I probably shouldn’t be making heart eyes at him when I have a dangerous criminal in my arms, and like Mitchell can sense that my body momentarily went slack, he struggles against me again.
He rams an elbow against my side and I let out a low groan—what’s with people going for my side lately?
I move to tighten my arm on his throat; Calvin can always kill him while he’s knocked out… but he pauses again.
This time, it isn’t from my gun pressed to his head.
This time, it’s because Calvin has the one I strapped carefully to him before we came here pressed to the underside of Mitchell’s chin.
“Don’t you dare touch him, Mitchell.”
The deep rumble of Mitchell’s laugh echoes in the empty space around us. “You tough now, huh? Where was this fight before I went to prison?”
“I’ve always had it. I just loved you too much to show it. But you will not hurt Atlas. I won’t allow it.”
“Allow,” Mitchell scoffs, then groans when I shift my gun, jamming the barrel against the delicate skin just beneath his ear. “Fuck you, Calvin. You won’t do shit with that gun but cosplay as a killer.”
“That what you think?” Calvin’s voice changes.
It’s harder, more deadly. It’s every bit of strength I’ve always known he’s had coming to the surface, and I wonder if he’d be angry to know it’s making me a little hard.
Now’s not the time, though. “You think I won’t make you fucking suffer for what you did to my friend? For how you ruined my fucking life?”
Calvin levels the gun, pressing it to Mitchell’s temple. “You wouldn’t—you’re not this tough guy you’re pretending to be. I know you, Calvin.”
“Sweetheart, look at me.” The soft sound of my voice spills over Mitchell’s yells, and Calvin’s gaze flickers past his ex’s shoulder and up to meet mine. I nod once, slowly, and he nods back.
Then he pulls the trigger.
The loud sound of the gun going off is enough to make my ears ring, but it still seems like nothing compared to the soft, low noise that tears from Calvin’s chest when I drop his ex-husband to the ground.
The body in my arms is limp—it wasn’t the best angle, but Calvin shot him through and through. If he isn’t dead, he’s as good as.
“Calvin… are you okay?” I can see his wounds are superficial, but it’s not really the injuries I’m worried about. None that I can see, anyway—none that are physical. When he nods once, sharply, I open my arms. “Come here.”
He steps into me and lets me pull him against my chest, and he doesn’t turn when I level my gun and put four more bullets into the asshole’s face just to be sure.
He doesn’t take the opportunity for one last look at someone who was obviously such a huge part of his life.
He doesn’t do anything but follow me as I lead him outside, away from the carnage.
I pretend I don’t notice his shoulders shaking, and he lets me.
Things move fast after that—probably faster than they should, but the sooner I’m done with all of this, the better. North is understandably irritated when I call him and tell him what happened. Not because he has to come help me clean up another mess, but because I didn’t invite him along.
Still, he shows up about thirty minutes later with the same duffle bag as before and a truck.
I notice there are a few cans of gasoline in the bed.
“You should have called me before everything went down.” The accusation is thick in his voice, and Calvin glances up at the soft growl in his tone.
I gently push against his shoulder. “Why don’t you go catch your breath while I talk to North about what we’re doing here?”
I don’t want him to hear me discuss disassembling bodies, and I don’t want him to think about the fact that his ex could have hurt Ranen. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, and then weakly waves instead.
“Hey, North.”
“Hey, Calvin,” North responds, and then watches him as he drifts off. Not out of my sight, but out of earshot.
“There are a few more out back, but there weren’t many.”
“Dad,” he cuts me off. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have helped.”
Confession time, I guess.
“I wanted to make sure you were with Ranen. The asshole inside was threatening anyone Calvin cared about.” Now that he’s dead, it’s fine. In fact, North taking his anger out on the body might be worth it.
I see the rage instantly flicker into his gaze, and he looks over his shoulder like intentions alone could raise Mitchell so he could kill him all over again.
“Did he say his name?”
“No.” I need to make sure he knows that much. “But I care about Ranen, and Calvin does too. We’re family, North.”
Family.
I wonder how Calvin will feel being looped into that.
North looks over my shoulder, considering, and then nods. “Yeah… we are. Why don’t you go get my… I don’t know, I’m not calling him step-dad. He looks like he needs you. I can handle the cleanup.”
I lean forward, pulling North into a hug for a brief moment before nodding.
“Thank you.”
Before I can walk away, though, he calls out. “We’re going to talk about this later.”
“Yeah,” I respond, because I get it. This was big—it’s still big. And it isn’t even finished. But for now… “Tomorrow.”
He waves me off as he trails inside.
I find Calvin on the edge of the property, leaned up against a tree—I hope I’m not invading when he wants personal space, but I know that this isn’t one of those instances where I need to leave him alone.
Killing someone changes you. Calvin’s seen death—hell, I’d shown it to him—but when you pull that trigger yourself, it’s different.
My arms slide around him and he doesn’t resist when I carefully pull him so his back is flush against my chest. His breathing is a little shallow, but other than that, he’s not tense.
“Are you okay?” It’s the most ridiculous question in the world, but it’s the only thing I can think to ask.
This was so much—too much—and I want more than anything to just take it away from him.
I wish I could, but at the same time… would we be what we are right now if all roads hadn’t led us here, to this moment?
He nods silently, his palms trailing across my forearms before he tangles our fingers together, forcing me to hug him tighter.
“I think I will be. Mitchell wasn’t a good man—he was a nightmare that’s haunted me for so many years.
I…” Calvin drops his head against my shoulder and I can see now that his eyes are closed, his lashes wet.
There’s streaks of tears running down his cheeks, but his expression is soft.
Almost serene in the moonlight. “I think I just feel bad that I don’t feel bad. ”
I shake my head. “You’re really something else, you know that?
” Before he can draw the wrong conclusions, I keep going.
“You’ve done nothing but surprise me from the moment we met.
You’re strong, Calvin. Stronger than most people I’ve met…
you’re dangerous…” I turn him slowly in my arms, and he tilts his head back to look at me.
Now that the words are coming out, I’m actually not sure if I’m going to be able to stop them.
Honestly, I’m not sure that I want to.
“I killed a man,” he says softly. “My husband.”
I grin, letting some of that charm I used the first time we met seep into my expression. “Not the one that matters, sweetheart.”
“I—” He cuts himself off, his drawn brows smoothing out and a soft smile finally crossing his features when he realizes what I said. “You aren’t my husband, Atlas.”
“Yet.” I correct him, though it’s more a tease than anything. I have no idea if he ever wants to get married again—hell, I’m not even sure I want to get married again. All I want is to know that the man in my arms is going to be mine for the rest of my life. Because damn it…
“Atlas…”
“I love you.” It spills out before I can stop myself, and it feels so good coming off my tongue that tears actually spring into my eyes.
The heat burns, but I don’t take my gaze off Calvin.
“I wonder if I have just a little since that first time I saw you, acting so brave and trying to protect Ranen from me. You’re amazing, Calvin.
You’re perfect—the way you care, the way you carry yourself.
The way you’re fierce and deadly… the way you’re capable of saving a life and strong enough to take one.
Every moment from that first time I saw you until now…
I love all of it.” He’s staring at me now with wide eyes, and I wonder if maybe this is too soon…
if confessing your feelings right after a murder isn’t the right time.
It’s too late now, though. I lean down, pressing my forehead to his so I can fill my vision with the endless night sky in his eyes.
“I love you, Calvin Hayes. Enough to say it when I thought I’d never be able to think about loving someone again.
You gave me back pieces of myself I didn’t know still existed, but they were right here.
” I drift my fingers slowly, splaying them across his blood spattered chest, and whisper, “In your heart.”
There’s silence after that, and I realize I’m not breathing. The air is caught in my lungs, waiting for him to exhale an answer so I can breathe again. When he finally does, he comes up on tiptoe to do it, pressing his lips against mine when he speaks.
“Dammit, Atlas. I was supposed to say it first.” The accusation forces a burst of laughter from my chest. “I love you too. God, I love you so much, it’s almost a physical ache. I don’t just love you, I need you. You’re my world, Atlas Sinclair. My whole fucking world.”