Chapter 44 Atlas
Atlas
Pain came first. A searing, electric sting that seared through my ribs.
Then came the fire. It was hot, merciless, roaring through every nerve like someone had poured gasoline into my veins and struck a match.
And finally, the darkness. It folded over me in thick, tar-black waves, swallowing sound, swallowing breath, swallowing the world whole. I was drowning in it, sinking fast.
Somewhere far away, voices ripped through the void.
Gianni.
Maybe Marcello.
Maybe the dead.
Their shouts faded beneath the thunder in my skull. I couldn’t make sense of anything except the instinct that dragged me upward—
Reach.
Move.
Fight.
Protect her—
Her. Neve. Her name tore through me, slicing through the fog, carving open my chest. It was the only thing that anchored me to the world.
I clawed my eyes open.
The floor was slick beneath me. Dark. Red. Mine. There was too much of it.
Someone’s hands pressed down on my chest so hard that my vision splintered into jagged pieces. White spots burst behind my eyes.
“Pressure! We need more pressure!” someone ordered, voice breaking. “He’s bleeding out, man—fuck—he’s bleeding out!”
I tried to lift my arm, reach for my gun, for anything, but my fingers barely twitched.
Another voice shouted, raw with panic.
“We’re losing him! I need help here—now!”
The world lurched sideways. The ceiling tilted. Faces blurred. Shadows pulsed. Lights screamed. Everything stretched into one long smear of color and pain as the darkness dragged me under again, and this time, it felt like it might not let me go.
The room was too white. Too blinding. Clean lines.
The air tasted like lilies. Like sad endings. And there was a polished white coffin in front of me.
My breath punched out of my chest. I staggered once, my knees almost giving out as I stepped forward slowly, like every inch of floor was trying to collapse under me.
No.
No, no, no…
The lid was open.
I braced my hands on the edge of the coffin, my fingers curling so hard the wood creaked under my grip. My pulse roared in my ears. A single tear escaped before I could stop it. It was thick and hot, angry, violent.
“Neve,” I rasped.
Her name felt like blood in my mouth.
She lay perfectly still, dressed in a pale, delicate dress, and I knew she hadn’t chosen this dress. Her dark hair spilled across the silk like a halo. Neve. Her lips were soft. Her lashes were dark against her skin.
She looked like she was asleep. But she wasn’t. I could feel the truth pressed against my throat. They’d gotten to her before I could save her.
How many more would I have to bury?
I bowed my head, pressing my forehead to the cold wood, trying to breathe around the grief strangling me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
My voice broke.
I gripped the coffin harder. If I didn’t, I’d collapse. The agony tore out of my lungs in ragged gasps.
“If I hadn’t come back into your life… You were right there.” I choked. “And I didn’t get to you. I didn’t get to you in time.”
Another tear fell, then another, carving hot trails down my face I couldn’t wipe away because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
I reached into the coffin, my fingers trembling as I brushed the back of my knuckles along her cheek.
She was cold. It was so unlike her. Neve had been warm and full of life. But now, she was no longer my warm, frightened, stubborn girl. She wasn’t the woman who’d made me feel jealous of the sunlight that touched her skin.
“You weren’t supposed to go first.” My voice was barely audible. “You weren’t supposed to go at all.”
My chest seized. Something inside me cracked, and the pain was loud, deep, final.
I felt my legs go out, and I fell to my knees beside her coffin, my hands sliding against the wood as if I could anchor myself to it. As if gripping it hard enough could drag her back.
It couldn’t. I knew that. But I did it anyway.
“Take me,” I whispered. “Not her. Never her.”
The room flickered. I froze. A tremor ran through the floor. A low hum vibrated in the air.
Her face blurred slightly, like heat distortion.
“What—?” My breath stopped.
The hum got louder. My vision sparked white at the edges, like lightning flashing behind my eyes. For a moment, I thought I was losing my mind.
Then I heard it—a faint beeping.
One long. Two short. Beep. Beep-beep.
The coffin dissolved for half a heartbeat, then sharpened again. My chest clenched.
“Neve?” I whispered, panic clawing up my throat.
Her face changed. Or maybe it was the room that changed. Maybe it was me. But something was pulling me backward. Dragging me. Clawing me out of the dream even as I tried to hold onto her hand…
A voice cut through the white noise.
“—we’re losing him—”
“—flatline—”
“—charge to two hundred—”
“—clear—”
A shock ripped through my body. My entire vision exploded into light. Neve’s face flickered, then disappeared.
“No!” I snarled, lurching forward even though my limbs wouldn’t obey. “No—don’t take her—don’t take—”
There was another jolt. A slam of electricity. I felt a ripping sensation like I was being torn between two worlds.
My pulse stuttered. It faded. It surged.
Neve’s voice echoed somewhere far away.
Atlas…
Her whisper threaded through the chaos like a lifeline.
Come back. Come back to me.
I fought. God, how I fought.
My lungs burned. My chest felt like it was caving in. My ribs hurt. My heartbeat flickered like a dying match. But I clawed upward anyway. I dragged myself toward the fading light of her voice. I broke through a void that was thick and suffocating, and gasped hard enough to tear my throat raw.
Machines screamed around me. Hands grabbed my shoulders. Someone yelled, “He’s back—he’s back!”
But I only heard one thing, and that was Neve’s voice as she screamed for my help. Neve needed me.
I opened my eyes to blinding lights, and a room full of facemasks. I was on an operating table. Barely alive, but I was breathing.
I sucked in a jagged breath, fighting against the straps, my voice shredded when it finally escaped:
“…Neve…”
Blackness closed in again. But this time? I wasn’t letting go.