Chapter 5 Atlas
She’s still in my head.
The new girl.
The too-small, too-soft, too-not-built-for-this-life girl.
Wren Harper.
I try to shake it off as I shove my gear into my bag, but the image won’t go away—her kneeling in front of me, wrapping my hand with those small gloved fingers, talking to me like I’m not a monster. Like I’m something human. Something worth fixing.
No one talks to me like that.
No one touches me like that.
And nobody—nobody—looks at me the way she did right before she told me off.
I can still feel it.
The way she stood her ground.
The heat in her eyes.
The way her pulse kicked in her throat when I stepped closer.
Most people flinch when I’m near.
She didn’t.
She fucking leaned in.
I should stay away.
She’s staff.
She’s trouble.
She’s everything I can’t have.
But when she walked out earlier—hoodie slung over her arm, cheeks flushed, breath uneven—my feet almost followed her out of instinct.
Almost.
Finn noticed.
He watches her like he’s already planning the first date.
Kael noticed.
He watches her like he’s already planning the funeral of the man who hurts her.
I notice.
I watch her like I’m trying not to tear the world apart to get another taste of the way she looks at me.
I sling my bag over my shoulder. I need to get the hell out of here.
But then I hear her voice.
Soft.
Close.
In the hallway.
Something in my chest pulls.
I should keep walking.
I don’t.
I round the corner and there she is—tugging that oversized Reapers hoodie over her head, hair getting mussed in the process. She huffs out a frustrated breath, trying to smooth it down.
Cute.
Too cute.
She looks up and stops. “Oh.”
That’s it.
Just "oh."
Like she didn’t just short-circuit my entire central nervous system earlier.
I swallow the growl trying to crawl up my throat.
“You heading out?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
She nods, hugging her arms around herself. She looks small in that hoodie. My hoodie, technically—it’s got Kael’s initial embroidered on it, but all our warm-up gear lives in the same damn bin. Doesn’t matter.
It looks better on her anyway.
“You cold?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Wren blinks. “What?”
“Your hands.”
I lift my chin at them.
Her fingers are tucked into the sleeves, knuckles pink from the ice.
“Oh.” She laughs awkwardly. “I’m fine.”
She’s not.
And I hate that I noticed.
I hate even more that I care.
I take a step closer.
“You shouldn’t walk out alone.”
She raises a brow. “Are you offering to escort me to my car?”
I narrow my eyes. “No. I’m telling you it’s not safe.”
“Atlas, this is Boston, not a war zone.”
“Same thing.”
She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. Really.”
She goes to step around me.
I move without thinking.
My hand comes up.
Not touching her.
Just blocking her path.
Her breath catches.
Mine does too.
Fuck.
I drop my hand instantly, jaw clenched. “Just... text someone when you get home.”
She hesitates, then says quietly, “Who?”
It’s innocent.
Too innocent.
Before I can answer, Finn’s voice cuts through the hall.
“There you are! Jesus, I thought you left. Can I walk you out?”
Wren turns, relief blooming across her face. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Of course he'd show up.
Finn grins at her like he didn’t just throw gasoline on whatever this is.
“Night, Atlas,” Wren says, stepping past me.
Something sharp twists in my gut.
Not jealousy.
Possession.
I don’t want her walking with him.
I don’t want her walking alone.
I don’t want her walking away from me at all.
But she does.
And Finn shoots me a look over his shoulder.
Not smug.
Not antagonistic.
Curious.
Like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do.
I do nothing.
For now.
But as Wren steps out into the cold Boston night, Kael’s hoodie drowning her frame and Finn holding the door, one thought hits me dead center:
I’m in trouble.
Because Wren Harper walked into our lives today...
And I already know I’m not letting her walk back out.