Chapter 11
Trotting back to base on a horse bigger than any in human history had been an… experience. Not that comfortable, considering how soft she was. It didn’t help that his ass twinged with every moment, courtesy of Conquest’s hard fuck.
He confirmed one hundred percent that she belonged to Conquest when she refused to listen to him, came into every building with him, took up too much space in the logistics room, and followed him everywhere he went.
For the next week, she never left his side. When he found a hot second to sleep, she rested beside him, her tail over him like she expected him to try to sneak out without her. When he ate, she stole half his food, and he had to scrounge up extras for her. Whenever he said something that she didn’t like, she smacked him in the face with her tail or stepped on his foot—that hurt—and he’d gotten good at getting out of her way.
Trading one ornery, temperamental companion for another, it seemed.
Even with her constant presence, he still felt the loss of Conquest and Raziel acutely. He’d lived without them for thirty-five years, and now a few days felt like a lifetime. Goddamn ridiculous. He didn’t need them, and it didn’t matter if they weren’t here. He had a job to do.
It didn’t stop him from personally checking every report that came in, from their city and others. Even the ones from other continents came past his desk when he demanded it.
None of the reports mentioned seeing them. Where were they? What were they doing? When were they coming back?
Even Famine hadn’t been around. Completely abandoned by them all in one swoop.
Well, all but one of them. Atlas glanced at the mare rolling on the carpet nearby, knocking shit off his bookcase as she did.
Would they return for her? Though they didn’t need to, did they? She could travel through what they called “the fog” and join them wherever they were at a moment’s notice.
Were they done with him now? They hadn’t made promises. They’d extracted them from him but never made any themselves. No, they’d gotten him naked and taken what they wanted.
He couldn’t get Conquest’s words out of his head.
“Even if we don’t return, and you’re alone for the rest of your life, you will never know the touch of another person.”
Atlas had known that one day they would leave him. They weren’t part of his world. When they were done with whatever the fuck they were doing here, they would leave.
He’d thought he’d have more time before they disappeared. And at least a fucking goodbye . Maybe all of Conquest’s words were just a load of bullshit, making him feel special so he’d get naked for them. Hell, it hadn’t even taken pretty words.
Atlas shoved the paper away with a growl. Not like he’d read a fucking word of it. Fucking hell, who cared? They were gone, and maybe they weren’t coming back, but Atlas had his own shit to deal with. He didn’t need to be pining for something that had no future anyway.
It had been fun, and if it was over, then fine. It was fine, and he was fine, and everything was just fucking fine . They weren’t even human, for fuck’s sake. No matter how pretty Raziel was, he had wings and leaked shit that melted skin off. And Conquest was… just a giant sexy piece of shit.
He didn’t care if they never came back. He didn’t. He had enough to worry about.
“General Brandt?”
Atlas jolted and looked up to find Leon standing there. They’d barely gotten a chance to say more than a few words to each other over the last long weeks. “Why are you calling me that?”
Leon glanced at where Victory had rolled over, staring intently at him, like he’d invaded her space. “You don’t think it has a ring to it?” he asked, turning his focus back to Atlas.
“No.”
Leon grinned mischievously. “Well, too bad, General ; that’s your rank now.”
“You came in here to let me know my own rank?”
Leon slapped the doorframe and gestured with his head.
Atlas sighed and stood, following him out into the hallway and across to their map room. Not like he had anything better to do. The words on his latest report were blurring together like an abstract painting. He needed a change of scenery.
“So,” Leon said as they entered the room. It was empty except for Landry, seated at a computer, the clack clack clack of the keyboard a steady pace. “I came to tell you that forward scouts have reported a large number of Demons amassing near one of the nearby plazas. The big one with the six million levels.”
“None of the stores in Washington DC have six million levels,” Atlas deadpanned. None of the buildings , period.
“Except this one, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Where was he even talking about? Shopping centers were aplenty around here. Atlas ran his fingers around the area on the map surrounding the base as he contemplated the locations.
“What do you want to do?” Leon asked. He pointed to a spot nearby on the map. “This one.”
The plaza had about ten stories, not six million, but who was counting?
Landry rolled over on his chair. “What is a ‘large number’?” he asked. “Fifty? Seventy-five? Twelve thousand?”
“You went from seventy-five to twelve thousand?” Leon pushed Landry’s chair away, and Landry gave him the finger.
“Maybe they got their yearly bonus for being murdering assholes, and they wanted to go shopping? I think they’ve earned it if that’s the criteria,” Atlas said. What the fuck were they doing? There wasn’t anyone left alive in that district. He knew because his soldiers had done sweeps through there multiple times in the last few weeks. No survivors, no Demons. They’d finally crossed it off and declared it a dead zone.
Landry snorted. “What kind of bonus would that be? Do they use our money or like… kidney stones as currency?”
“Kidney stones?” Atlas asked, raising an eyebrow. Really, that’s where he went? The images conjured from that were going to give him nightmares forever.
“Not morbid enough? What about teeth?”
“Fingers,” Leon helpfully added.
Atlas’s own clenched in response. He shook his hands out, suddenly needing a shower. And some gloves. “Did the scouts say what they’re doing?”
“They go in, they don’t come out. Terribly boring for murderous assholes.”
And terribly suspicious. Atlas tapped his fingers on the table, worrying his bottom lip. They didn’t have the numbers for a full-scale assault. “How many, roughly?” The going in and not coming out didn’t tell them anything. They didn’t travel like humans; they didn’t have to walk through doors, or even walls, to move around. It was stranger that they were getting caught going in .
“Dozens. Maybe a hundred or more? The counts were sketchy at best.”
Over a hundred? And they weren’t just killing everything in their path and moving on? Fucking hell, that couldn’t be good. With that kind of force, anyone Atlas sent was as good as dead.
They really could have used one of their elusive Horsemen right now. Fine time they picked to fuck off. He didn’t know where any of them were or how to contact them.
All he had was the giant mare looking at him with one eye open. She’d followed him into the room, of course. His shadow. She wasn’t going to be helpful in this situation, and no way was Atlas taking her into a dangerous situation, regardless. He didn’t care how powerful Conquest had said she was, he wasn’t risking her. Her importance to the Horseman meant that Atlas would take care of her, not the other way around.
No, he was on his own, and he had to make a decision. “Do we have anyone left with covert operation experience?”
“You mean, other than you?” Leon asked.
“I’m hardly going to go by myself,” Atlas said, rolling his eyes. He hadn’t done a lot of them, but he’d been involved in enough that he supposed he counted. Especially considering the lack of personnel they had left. “We need a team that can go in quickly and quietly. Get a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”
Victory flicked Atlas in the mouth with her tail, and he glared at her. “We’ve talked about this. You want those cookies you like? You have got to stop fucking hitting me.” He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with a horse . And that it wasn’t the first time. Not even the third, in fact. He should never have given her the macadamia nut chocolate cookie. Technically, he hadn’t. Landry had found them somewhere , and when he’d given it to Atlas, it was gone before he’d even had a bite. A menace to society, just like her owner.
Atlas rubbed his forehead. He was getting a fucking headache. He’d had four good hours of sleep last night, and barely that the two nights before it. Hardly ideal, to be heading into enemy territory when running on pure adrenalin, but that’s all he had, and it would have to be enough.
“I know a few,” Landry said, giving him concerned glances. “Probably three that I’d trust with it and with your life.”
“Four is a fire team.” Perfect. “We’ll go in, scout, see what we can find out.” Conquest would kill him if he found out. Maybe the Demons would kill him first.
“And if you don’t come out?” Leon asked.
“Then you’re in charge. Try not to fuck it up.”
That’s how Atlas found himself, an hour later, getting suited up to head into a Demon jamboree. Not a bad way to go out, considering the state of the world. Fighting to protect the people around him.
The three men going with him—Sergeant Jeremy Ward, Captain Cory Alexander, and Sergeant Liam Wilkins—had more experience than he did with this kind of operation, and he selected Jeremy to lead. Atlas hadn’t officially met them before, though their names had popped up in his reports enough times for him to know that they knew what they were doing.
“You sure?” Jeremy asked, giving him a once-over that felt less professional and more like checking him out. “You’re the general.”
He’d never get used to being called that. “In another world, I was a major and a pilot. Besides,” Atlas said, with a lopsided grin, “if we fuck up, then it won’t be my fault.” Though it wouldn’t matter since they’d be dead if they fucked up. And Atlas wouldn’t have to answer to Conquest.
Jeremy’s answering grin had a hint of flirtation to it. The guy had zero subtlety, especially after that earlier look. Atlas might have responded to it once before Conquest and Raziel. They weren’t here, and by the looks of it, weren’t coming back. It didn’t matter; because of them, he didn’t feel even a tendril of interest toward a guy that looked like he knew his way around a bed and had fucking dimples.
“You’re staying here,” Atlas told Victory. Her upper lip curled, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “No arguments. Do not follow me.”
Her ears flattened, and her tail flicked in annoyance. He did not have the energy to get into an argument with her right now. He was still waiting for the painkillers to kick in.
“I’m serious,” he said forcefully, stroking her snout. He’d grown ridiculously fond of her during their time together. He hadn’t been able to turn around without her being right there, but she would be leaving, just like her master, and Atlas wouldn’t have her get hurt before then.
“Tell Conquest…” He pressed his forehead to hers. He had nothing to say. “It doesn’t matter.” He ran her braid through his hand, the soft strands giving him strength. She was just as stunning as her rider.
Whatever he’d expected her to do—maybe bite him or stomp on his foot—it wasn’t to open the fog and step through.
It closed behind her, and Atlas exhaled shakily, his heart clenching so painfully he thought he might be dying. Part of him had hoped she would fight him. That someone from that world would fight to keep him. The quick exit from all three of them hit him where it hurt, in the very depths of his soul, and he hated that he’d allowed them in deep enough to be able to do that. At least Matty hadn’t chosen to leave him.
As if this outcome hadn’t been inevitable. Whatever liberties Conquest had allowed, especially with Raziel, they were nothing but a fever dream. One that had never really belonged to him.
“General?” Jeremy put a hand on Atlas’s arm. “Are you ready to go?” He glanced where Victory had gone. “Do we need to wait for her?”
“It’s just Atlas,” Atlas said. “Don’t use my title.” Not a title he’d earned. Should never have been given to him. All he did was get people killed.
Jeremy’s hand slid up to settle on Atlas’s shoulder, his fingers skimming the side of Atlas’s neck. “Are you okay?”
Atlas shook himself, both to tell him himself to buckle the fuck up and to get on with it—it didn’t matter whether he’d earned it, he had it, and he had a responsibility to those around him—and to get Jeremy’s hands off him. It made him uncomfortable in a way he didn’t want to examine.
You will never again know the touch of another person.
Right. If Conquest really wanted to enforce that possessive bullshit, maybe he should show his fucking face. Instead, he’d walked into Atlas’s life, fucked it up, and then walked right back out again. A week was a lifetime right now. Atlas could have been killed, and where were they?
He double-checked his weapons and nodded resolutely, refusing to give one more thought to any of it. He had a job to do. “Alright, let’s go fuck up these Demons day.”
Jeremy grinned. He really was an attractive guy, dimples and vibrant hazel eyes.
He just wasn’t who Atlas wanted.