Chapter 33
33
ANNA
T he moment Atlas and his brothers disappeared down the hall toward the ops room, the air in the foyer shifted. There was suddenly less tension, more reverence. Like something sacred had just happened, and we didn’t quite know what to do with it yet.
I stood in stunned silence beside my parents, the echo of his words still burning through my skin. If she’ll have me ... would you grant me the honor of marrying her? Of being your son?
No pretense. No armor. Just truth, laid bare in front of the two people who raised me.
Mama’s hand found mine, her fingers trembling slightly as she smiled, eyes still shiny from unshed tears. “He meant every word.”
“I know,” I whispered. My heart was still galloping in my chest. “I didn’t expect him to ask you. Not yet.”
Papa exhaled slowly, like something long-clenched had finally released. “That man may have come from a world of war, but he speaks like someone who’s finally found peace. That’s no small thing.”
“He's right,” Mama added, brushing a lock of damp hair from my forehead. “He doesn’t just love you, Anya. He sees you. And that matters more than anything.”
I tried to answer, but my throat tightened. I could only nod.
A minute later, the door to the ops room clicked open, and Atlas stepped back into the hallway.
His eyes found me instantly.
He crossed to me in three strides, didn’t care who was watching. His hand slid around my waist, the other cupping my jaw, and he kissed me like we’d earned it. Like the hurricane outside could wait its damn turn.
When he pulled back, breathless and still tasting of rain and fury, he gave me the barest hint of a smirk. “I need a shower.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks.
I opened my mouth to respond, but Claire got there first from across the room. “Mm. That’s code for don’t wait up.”
Izzy raised her eyebrows. “Honestly, we were wondering what took you so long.”
My ears burned. “Oh, my God.”
Atlas just grinned and tightened his grip around my waist, unbothered. “You coming, or should I just stand there dripping and tragic by myself?”
I looked back at my parents, mortified and touched and maybe halfway to laughing. “I—um?—”
Mama gave me a knowing smile, her voice warm. “Go.”
Papa gave Atlas a look that said I trust you now, but I still know how to load a rifle. Then he nodded.
So, I did.
I followed Atlas up the stairs toward his suite, the house groaning under the return of the storm. The second half had begun, Arden’s winds clawing once more at the walls, angry to find us still standing.
But in that moment, I didn’t care.
He reached for my hand halfway down the hall. Interlaced our fingers without a word.
And I felt it.
That pulse between us. The steady, unrelenting thrum that had started the first time I met him and only grown louder ever since.
By the time we stepped into his suite, my chest was already tight with want.
He shut the door behind us, and I was in his arms before the latch clicked.
His mouth found mine again, hot and desperate. His hands slid down my back, cupping my ass as he walked me backwards toward the bathroom, peeling away layers like he couldn’t stand the barrier of fabric between us. I tugged at his soaked shirt, fingers tracing the lines of his chest, the heat radiating off him.
He broke the kiss only long enough to drag in a breath, his forehead pressed to mine, voice rough with need. “I’ve been dying to touch you again.”
I smiled against his mouth, fingers curling into his chest. “Then don’t wait another second.”
The storm outside howled louder. But here, in the steam and shadows of Atlas’s suite, the only thing I felt was heat.
The kind you don't run from.
The kind that finds you, claims you, and says you belong here—in the hands of a man who would raze the world to protect your heartbeat.
Atlas backed me into the shower with a force that didn’t bruise—it branded.
Steam wrapped around us before the water even hit full temperature, fogging the glass as he pressed me up against the cool tile, his hands already everywhere. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, like his body had been designed to fit mine, and slammed his mouth back to mine with a hunger so deep it shook something in my chest loose.
“I missed this,” he growled into my neck, tongue hot against my skin, the rough scrape of his beard making me shiver as it dragged over my throat. “Missed you. The way you sound. The way you open for me.”
“I’m yours,” I gasped as he rocked his hips against me, his cock hot and hard between us. “You already know that.”
His breath hitched, a low groan curling against my ear. “We haven’t even been apart that long. Just hours. You were wrapped around me at the cottage, coming on my mouth like you were born for it. And still—fuck, I ache for you like it’s been weeks.”
I arched against him, lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “Same. I should be satisfied, sated. But all I can think about is the way you felt inside me. The way you looked at me like I was yours to ruin.”
His mouth crashed into mine again—wet, open, hungry—and I knew: no matter how many hours passed or how many times we came together, it would never be enough.
We would always need more.
“I want to hear that you’re mine again,” he demanded. “Say it.”
“I’m yours, Atlas,” I whispered, wrapping my legs around his waist. “In every fucking way.”
He groaned like it broke him, one hand sliding down to align himself. The second he pushed inside, I cried out—my body stretching, welcoming, clutching around him like we’d never been apart. My back arched into the tile, and he filled me to the hilt with one long, punishing thrust.
“Jesus,” he gritted out, forehead dropping to my shoulder. “You feel like sin. Like a home I don’t deserve.”
I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulled his mouth back to mine. “You deserve everything.”
He moved inside me with a rhythm that was almost brutal—sharp, deep, relentless—but his hands never stopped touching me with reverence. Like I was a prayer and a battlefield, and he was the kind of man who could fight and worship in the same breath.
His thrusts slammed into me, water pounding the tile above my head, the sound of skin on skin louder than the wind beyond the windows. I clung to him, every nerve on fire, drowning in the storm of his body. His teeth grazed my jaw, then bit the side of my neck—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to mark.
“I’m taking you with me,” he said against my skin, breath ragged. “To Boston. We’ll get your things, oversee the move together.”
“Yes,” I gasped, nearly incoherent. “God, yes.”
“You’ll live here,” he growled. “With me. At Dominion. And your parents—we’ll find them a place nearby. Whatever they want. I’ll buy the damn block if I have to.”
“Atlas—” My heart cracked wide at the thought.
He fucked me harder, like the words weren’t enough to show me how serious he was. “All the money in the world is useless unless I’m spending it on family. And you’re mine. They’re yours. So they’re mine, too.”
I came with a broken sob, body clenching around him as stars exploded behind my eyes.
But he wasn’t done.
He held me through the aftershocks, kept moving, slower now, one hand cupping the back of my head like he couldn’t stand to let me drift even a fraction away.
“Just wait until we have kids,” he murmured, his voice rough and tender all at once. “You think I spoil you now? I’ll spoil the hell out of them. You’ll hate me for it.”
“I could never hate you,” I breathed.
“You’ll see,” he said with a soft, wicked smile. “Private music lessons before they can walk. Custom baby grand in the nursery. A damn harp carved with their names if you want it.”
I laughed through the haze of pleasure and water and love. “Can we talk about how the Philharmonic might not be able to afford me without Eugene interfering?”
He leaned in and kissed me again, deep and sweet. “Then I’ll make a donation. Establish a chair. They’ll name the position after you, sweetheart.”
“You can’t buy everything.”
He drew back just far enough to look me in the eye. “No. But I can clear every obstacle between you and the life you deserve. You were born to play. To be heard.”
I bit my lip, heart pounding from more than just the way he moved inside me. “Are you upset about the way things happened with Eugene?”
His eyes flicked to mine, sharp and unflinching. “No, Anna. I’m not.”
He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze fully, his voice low and certain. “That man hurt you. Lied to you. Tried to control you. I don’t mourn men like that. I protect you from them.”
His expression darkened for half a breath. “I want you to know I didn’t kill him.”
“I didn’t think you did, but Ryker told me for sure,” I explained.
“Are you sad he’s gone?”
I shook my head slowly. “I’m sad about who he turned out to be. But I’m not mourning him. He made his choices. And I’m exactly where I belong.”
He kissed me again—slow this time, like it mattered more than the last.
When he pulled back, I felt his rhythm change. Still inside me, he shifted us gently, setting my feet back on the tile and spinning me around so my palms hit the wall. I arched for him, giving him everything, and he sank into me again with a groan so guttural it vibrated through my spine.
“Anna,” he whispered. “How am I supposed to survive this?”
“You’re not,” I said over my shoulder. “You’re supposed to lose yourself in it.”
He did.
He fucked me until my knees went weak, until his own body started to shake with the effort of holding back. But he didn’t pull out. He reached around, rubbed my clit with two fingers, coaxing a second orgasm out of me until I was sobbing against the wall.
“Atlas,” I cried, splintering in his hands.
“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m gonna come?—”
“Inside,” I begged. “I want all of it. All of you. Every time.”
With a guttural cry, he spilled into me, thrusts slowing but still deep, possessive, worshipful. His chest collapsed over my back as we both shook in the aftermath.
We stood there like that, gasping under the hot spray, water mixing with sweat and tears and something older than either of us could name.
Eventually, he kissed my shoulder and whispered, “You’ll worry about me, won’t you? Especially when we have kids.”
“I will,” I admitted, leaning into him. “How will I know you’ll be safe?”
He pressed his lips to my temple. “I won’t lie to you. The danger doesn’t end. Department 77 isn’t done. We’ll figure out how to navigate it.”
I turned in his arms. “And if the danger finds you?”
“Then I make sure my last breath is spent keeping you safe.” He kissed me fiercely. “But I don’t plan to die anytime soon. Especially not with our future waiting.”
I nodded, heart full to bursting. “Promise me you’ll come back. Every time.”
He brushed a wet strand of hair from my cheek. “You’re my home. I’ll always find my way back.”
We kissed again, softer now. Slower.
The wind outside screamed.
But here, in this sanctuary of steam and sacred truths, I finally understood something that had eluded me for so long.
Love wasn’t the opposite of war.
It was what survived after the last bullet fell.
And this?
This was our peace.