Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
ATLAS
Enzo was the brightest thing in my life most days.
I loved my nephew so fiercely the thought of anyone or anything ever hurting him made me want to burn the world down. Our outings to the aquarium, ice skating, or the zoo—always followed by ice cream, of course—were some of my happiest memories.
However.
With the way my headache pulsed, there were only so many times I could hear him practice a beginner’s arrangement of Clair de Lune before I began plotting to accidentally trip over the keyboard cord and pretend it was broken.
“Are you still listening, Uncle Atty?” he asked.
I cracked one eye open. From my spot reclined on the couch, I could barely see the top of his head peeking over the keyboard a few feet away. Adorable. “Of course,” I answered. “I think that was your best try yet.”
“Yes, but I can do better,” he replied matter-of-factly. He was always so serious. “Keep listening.” He began again, each note firing a precise ice pick through the soft tissue of my temple.
I contemplated plucking my head off and putting the whole thing in the deep freezer.
Blessedly, my brother stepped in and saved me. “Enz, baby, it’s time for your snack,” he said, leaning against the living room door frame.
“You don’t make it as good as Max.”
His name sat like a boulder on my chest. Enzo loved Max. My—that is, the—omega didn’t seem to be aware of how much my nephew looked up to him, but he was so highly regarded his name came up in almost every conversation I’d had with Enzo over the last two years.
That may or may not have been because I was all too eager to discuss him and the delicious food he made with my precocious nephew.
According to Enzo, his dino nugget-to-ketchup ratio was unmatched and deserved all the Michelin stars, and the technique he used to remove the crust from peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches should be studied.
Now, though, his name was like a lance through my chest. I’d almost, almost, had everything I could’ve wanted in my grasp—my mate and my family, together, without secrets—and I blew it so spectacularly it would be comical if I wasn’t on the verge of a mental and physical breakdown.
“I know, baby. He’ll be back soon,” Saint replied, ushering Enzo off the stool and down the hall, shooting me a look like it was my responsibility to ensure he wasn’t lying to his child.
I huffed and closed my eyes again.
Saint came back a few minutes later and set Enzo up across the living room with a show about dogs from Australia on the television. The volume was just loud enough to drown out our conversation.
“This whole damn family is falling apart,” he grumbled under his breath, pushing my legs off the sofa to sit next to me. “You look like death. I’m calling your doctor.”
“M’fine,” I grunted back, throwing an arm over my eyes.
“Yeah, and I’m Goldilocks. You should at least get some sleep.”
I couldn’t. My alpha wouldn’t let me. Prowling around in my head, it was a constant litany of, Get up, you idiot. Go find him. Tell him you miss him. Tell him you’re sorry. Tell him he’s our mate and make him ours, forever.
Besides, what if Max called me while I was asleep and I didn’t pick up? “Trying to send me off for a nap?”
“If I could send you to bed like my child, I would. Don’t push me.”
I sighed. “I don’t need the doctor to tell me what’s wrong.”
I could feel the cold stare he sent me even without seeing it. To anyone else, he probably looked emotionless, but I knew he was concerned. He just hid it well. “Maybe not, but there’s a chance you might actually listen when he tells you to pull your head out of your ass and go talk to Max.”
“What would we talk about, exactly? I hid things from him. He wanted me anyway, and instead of fessing up like I should’ve, I chickened out, and it all went to hell. There’s nothing left to talk about.”
“That’s rather pathetic for a man who’s pined for the same omega for two whole years.”
I lifted my arm just enough to give him a flat look. “Yeah, because no one in this family does that.”
His responding stare was glacial. Right. We didn’t discuss that.
I rolled onto my side with a sigh, facing the back of the couch. “If I’d just approached him normally from the start, none of this would’ve happened.”
Saint was silent for so long I thought he’d given up on humoring my wallowing. “I’m not so sure,” he eventually said, unusually quiet.
I grunted, signaling for him to go on.
“You are who you are, and Max is who he is. You two are a good match, whether you want to let yourself believe it or not. Maybe you met under the exact circumstances you were meant to. Give him a few days to cool off, and then talk. Tell him everything. Apologize. And then please, for the love of God, stop dying.”
Days would be excruciating. Painful. Horrific. “Do you really think he’ll forgive me?” I asked quietly.
Before Saint could reply, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I scrambled for it.
It’s probably Gwen, I thought. What if something happened? What if he said he wanted to see me, or talk to me—
It wasn’t Gwen. My heart leaped from my chest at Max’s name lighting up my screen.
“Looks like he may already have…” Saint mumbled when I beamed at the phone screen, headache be damned.
Max
I’d like to talk, if you’re free sometime? Oh, and the glasses are perfect. Thank you.
I immediately called him. I was free now, and wanted to see him so badly my chest ached.
Not for sex or anything physical. I just…
missed him. He slotted into my life, into my world, so perfectly after resisting the pull to be near him for so long.
I missed his rambling about cultured butter and double-fold vanilla extract—whatever that was—and different types of cat food.
I missed the concentrated look on his face when he brushed his teeth in the morning, and the way he smelled after wearing my sweatshirt all day.
Hell, I even missed his demon cat and the way he plotted my demise from the corner of every room.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up…” I mumbled as the phone rang out. When I got his voicemail, I hung up and tried again.
Voicemail.
Unease crept in. My thumb hovered over the Find My app on my phone, the habit to check on him second-hand by now. But after telling Gwen where to find him the night before, I’d respected his wish to be left alone.
I tried to call one more time. Again, the call went to voicemail.
Fuck it. I pulled up his location. Unease settled into dread. He wasn’t far from Gwen’s, in a parking lot I recognized immediately.
The diner where Weber worked.
My phone vibrated with an incoming call, and I answered before the caller ID even had a chance to populate. “Max? Are you okay? You need to get out of there right—”
“Atlas, something’s happened.”
It wasn’t Max; it was Gwen.
Ice spread in my veins. I sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“We were at lunch. Everything was fine. Max got up to use the restroom and didn’t come back out. I checked, but no one’s in there. He wouldn’t just leave, Atlas. I don’t know what’s happened.”
I put her on speaker and pulled up the map again. Max’s dot now moved away from the diner at a fast clip, like he was in a car, headed for the edge of town.
My ears rang. “Weber took him,” I said, standing. “I forgot to tell you he works there now.”
How could I have been so neglectful? Gwen was saying something very fast, but I couldn’t hear. The room spun, and I would’ve fallen if Saint hadn’t caught me by the elbow.
“Atlas!” he called. “Atlas, calm down.”
“I should’ve—” I choked on the words, looking to where Enzo sat on the floor across the room, watching us.
I should’ve killed him.
“It’s what I’m good at,” I said to my brother, probably not making any sense. “It’s the only thing I’m good at, but I didn’t, and now he’s—he’s—”
Why the fuck had I waited? Because I was scared of getting caught? Of going to prison? What was that, compared to losing Max?
Red blanketed my vision. All I could think of was Weber’s blood coating my hands. My alpha raked his claws down the walls of the cage I kept him in.
“Hey!” Saint shook me by the shoulders. “Calm down.”
He pushed me onto the couch and grabbed the phone, taking it off speaker. Their conversation faded behind the ringing in my ears. My vision pulsed, and darkness crept in at the edges.
Get up! my alpha snarled. Go get mate. No one else is going to save him. He needs us! Get up! Go! Kill the one who took him from us. Bathe in his blood, and then knot mate in it so he knows he belongs to us. Only us. Go, go, go!
Saint knelt in front of me. I blinked until his face came into focus. “Gwen is on her way to stay with Enzo. Five minutes, tops. You and I will follow the car.”
“I have to go now,” I said, words thick and slurred. “You stay. I go.”
My brother shook his head. “You’re practically feral; I’m not letting you do this alone. You need to calm down, get up, and get ready. Where’s your gear bag?”
“Car,” I croaked. It was parked in the garage Max didn’t go in, because he wasn’t supposed to know who I was. But then I’d fallen in love, and he had to know.
Except that wasn’t quite right, either, because I knew he was going to be mine the first moment I scented him, didn’t I?
Saint snapped in my face, pulling me back. “You’ve gotta hold it together for a little while longer. We both need a level head to do this right. Max needs you, yes?”
I nodded, but looked at Enzo. “You can’t come with me,” I said. He’d completely stepped back from this life when Enzo was born. It was too dangerous, and there was too much at risk.
Enzo deserved a present father, not a dead one.
“I’m not walking away from you, remember? Now, do those breathing exercises, and I’ll be right back. Then, we hunt.”
Yes, my alpha snarled. Let’s hunt.
A thrill ran through me, even as something familiar ached in my chest at my brother’s words. I hadn’t hunted in two years, not really. Not fully. It was fitting my first time back would be with him—and for Max.
I centered myself. I was good at hunting. Great, actually, and Max needed me at my fucking best to save him again. He needed a plan, and as long as it ended with me tearing out Joseph Weber’s throat followed by keeping Max forever and ever, I could hold it together long enough to execute it.
Cold, killing calm settled over me like frost. I was built for this. I was made for this; carved from the fear and anger of my childhood into exactly who my mate needed.
Saint stormed back inside and tossed the bag at me. “I have to change. Enz, let's get ready for a movie night with Gwen.” He ushered the boy upstairs.
Once alone, I unzipped the bag and pulled out my dark pants and hoodie, quickly throwing them on. I clipped my knife onto my belt and dug out one of the snarling masks, bunching it in my hands.
This was the face of a monster—a killer. Someone I was afraid Max wouldn’t want. Right now, though, it was exactly who he needed most.
It was also the face Weber expected to find hiding in the dark. Through the red haze of feral anger, I planned.
The hunt was on.