2. Atlas
ATLAS
I s humanity based on nature or nurture?
That’s a question I’ve asked myself my entire life as I struggle to extricate myself from my father’s name while acknowledging that I harbor similar tendencies as him.
Finding myself repulsed by my father and the DNA running through my veins is a strange concept.
The door flies open, and Callum barges in with a pretty woman who looks to be in her early twenties. Despite her ragged, filthy clothing, her beauty is undeniable—especially her large, emerald eyes framed by long, black lashes.
“She’s staying with us. I’m her bodyguard for the time being. Marcus is worried the other guys might get rough with her.”
“Mona,” the girl says firmly as she tugs her arm from Callum’s grip. “My name is Mona.”
Callum steps toward her, his large hands framing her delicate face.
His nostrils flare, and his eyes blaze with fire.
“I don’t care what your name is. Learn to keep your mouth shut.
If you do anything to fuck up my life, it’s not the other guards you’ll need to fear.
I’ll fuck you up so bad that the pain will be ingrained in your nervous system. ”
The girl, Mona, glares at Callum. She doesn’t flinch; she doesn’t balk or cry. She holds his glare with a determined expression, a silent challenge laced in her pretty green eyes.
What kind of internal strength does it take to stand up to someone who could crush her so easily?
“I was seven when I witnessed the execution of my father. Six months later, I watched as my sister received seventy-four lashes because perverted men couldn’t handle their twisted urges and sexualized a thirteen-year-old girl.
I was nine when I trekked across a desert, worried my mother would die of starvation because every morsel of food she had she gave to her three children.
My first ten years were more brutal than most adults experience in a lifetime.
” Mona steps closer to Callum, her breasts flush with his chest. “Cowards like you don’t scare me. ”
Callum’s hand shoots out, and he laces his fingers in Mona’s long tresses, bending her body backward. He leans over her, his face barely an inch from hers. “You know what I do for a living, little girl? I destroy people. So, if you don’t get in line, I’ll break you.”
Mona’s full lips twist into a smile that’s unnerving for such a stunning woman. “You can’t break someone who’s already shattered.”
Callum releases her hair and steps back, and Mona crashes to the floor.
He looks as if he’s received a lethal blow.
His face is ashen, his confidence visibly shaken.
I’ve never seen Callum off-kilter. He’s always collected, calculated, and lethal.
Never would I have imagined he’d come undone because of the words of a beautiful stranger.
For a moment, I think Callum will walk away, leaving the girl huddled in the corner.
But that thought is foolish.
Callum’s back is rigid, his hands clenched into fists. The man I love is no longer visible through the dense fog of his anger. He’s my father’s henchman, a man I once believed capable of ending my life.
This is the Callum I forgot existed.
This Callum is a stranger.