Chapter 11 #2
His face changes immediately. That’s the version of him I remember best now.
The cruel, bitter entity.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m leaving. My dad owed you fifteen grand, and Ricky told me you made that back six fucking months ago, Seb! I’m fucking done!”
Sebastian grabs my jaw hard enough to hurt. “You belong to me. Your daddy didn’t just sell your time, Damien. He sold you.”
The next part comes in flashes.
The wall against my back.
His hand around my throat.
The first time he hit me hard enough to split my lip.
The realization that this had never been love.
Just ownership.
“You owe me,” he says in the dream.
Then suddenly he’s not Sebastian anymore.
For one horrifying second, it’s Atlas standing over me instead.
That finally jolts me awake.
I sit up violently in bed, breathing hard enough that my chest hurts.
My apartment is dark.
Empty.
Wrong.
It takes me several seconds to remember where I am. My hands reach for Atlas on his side of the bed, but Atlas isn’t here tonight. He stayed at the hospital with Grace because she had a rough day of treatment. The realization hits me with another wave of panic.
I’m alone.
My hands shake badly while I grab my phone from the nightstand.
I don’t think.
I don’t hesitate.
I just call him.
Atlas answers on the third ring. “Damien?”
The second I hear his voice, something inside me cracks open. I try to speak.
Nothing comes out except a broken breath.
“Hey, hey,” he says immediately, his tone sharpening with concern. “Gracie, I’m stepping out for a sec.” I hear a door shut. “Dame, what happened?”
I swallow hard, but the words won’t form properly. “I…” My voice catches. “I had a dream.”
“Okay,” he says gently. “That’s okay. You’re okay. Talk to me.”
My chest feels too tight, like Sebastian is still choking me against that concrete wall.
“It was him,” I manage. “It was Sebastian.”
There’s a brief pause.
“Who’s Sebastian?” Atlas asks carefully.
“He…” I try to answer. I really do.
But the name alone is enough to send everything spiraling again. My thoughts scatter, panic clawing up my throat before I can piece the words together.
“I can’t…” I choke out. “I don’t—I can’t explain right now.”
“That’s okay,” Atlas says immediately. “You don’t have to explain anything.”
My breathing turns uneven, too fast, too shallow.
“He’s going to come back,” I say. “I know he is. He’s gonna take me back, Atlas. He’s gonna take me.”
“Baby, baby,” Atlas cuts in softly. “Slow down. Breathe for me.”
I press my hand against my chest like that will physically force my lungs to cooperate. “I can’t,” I whisper.
“Yes, you can,” he says calmly. “You’re just panicking. That’s all this is. I’ve got you.” His voice stays steady.
Unshaken.
“Take a breath with me,” he continues. “In through your nose. Slowly.”
I follow his instructions without thinking.
“Good,” he says. “Now out through your mouth.”
I exhale shakily.
“Again.”
I do it again, and again, breathing in time with Atlas’s voice.
Each breath feels slightly easier than the last, the panic loosening just enough that I can hear him clearly instead of his words blurring together.
“There you go,” Atlas murmurs. “Stay with me.”
My grip on the phone tightens. “I’m scared,” I admit quietly.
The words feel foreign in my mouth. I don’t say things like that. I don’t admit things like that.
Atlas doesn’t hesitate. “I’m coming over,” he says softly.
I swallow hard. “No, no. Stay with Grace. I just…” I take a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill over. “I just needed to hear your voice.”
Atlas is quiet on the other end. I can’t tell if he’s confused or uncomfortable because I just admitted to needing him. I breathe until the thought I’ve been dreading bubbles out.
“I don’t want him to find me,” I whisper.
“He’s not here,” Atlas says immediately. “You’re in your apartment. You’re safe.”
The word hits me hard.
Safe.
“You’re not back there,” he continues. “You’re not in that…that situation anymore. Whatever happened in that dream, it’s not happening right now.”
He’s trying to convince me of something that he doesn't even know about. He’s trying to stop the world from crushing me.
My chest rises and falls slower now.
Not steady yet.
But better.
“I feel like he’s watching me,” I say.
“That’s the fear talking,” Atlas replies gently. “Not reality.”
I close my eyes, pressing my forehead into my hand. “I hate this.”
“I know.” He pauses. “Do you want me to come over?”
I almost say yes. I almost ask him to come hold me until I fall asleep again. To kiss my eyelids and tell me he’ll never let anyone near me again.
But I can’t take him away from his family. The people who actually need him. Who actually deserve him.
“No. I’m okay now,” I say.
“Baby—”
“I’m serious. You helped.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Atlas exhales quietly. “Okay,” he says. “Then I’ll stay on the phone with you until you fall asleep.”
Something in my chest loosens. “You don’t have to?—”
“I’m not hanging up,” he says firmly. “So get comfortable.”
Despite everything, a small breath of something almost like a laugh slips out of me. “You’re stubborn.”
“You love it.”
Yeah.
I do.
“Debatable.” I shake my head slightly, even though he can’t see it.
The panic has dulled now, fading into something quieter.
Exhaustion.
Residual fear.
But it’s manageable.
“Lie back down,” Atlas says softly.
I do.
“Is your door locked?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Windows?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” His voice softens again. “You’re okay, Damien.”
I stare up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of his breathing on the other end of the line.
“You’re safe,” he repeats quietly.
And I almost believe him.
I don’t remember falling asleep. One minute I’m curled in bed with the phone pressed tightly against my ear while Atlas talks softly to keep me grounded, and the next everything disappears into heavy darkness. When I wake up, it takes me a second to understand why my chest hurts.
My breathing quickens before I even fully open my eyes. There’s movement in my room. My body reacts before my brain catches up. I jerk upright violently, my heart slamming against my ribs while adrenaline floods through me so fast it almost makes me sick.
Someone’s here. Someone broke in.
For one horrifying second, I think it’s him.
Then the figure near my bedroom doorway straightens, and I see Atlas dropping a backpack onto the floor beside my dresser.
“Dame, it’s me.”
Relief hits hard enough to make my vision blur.
“Jesus Christ,” I gasp.
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I should have thought of that.”
My chest heaves painfully while I stare at him.
Atlas still looks exhausted from the hospital. His hoodie sleeves are pushed up messily, curls flattened slightly on one side like he’s been running his hands through them for hours.
“What are you doing here?” I ask weakly.
Atlas steps closer slowly, his expression softening the second he gets a good look at me. “My mom came up to the hospital to switch with me,” he says quietly. “I came straight here.”
Something twists painfully in my chest. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
That answer comes so simply it almost destroys me.
Atlas studies me for another second before adding softly, “I was worried about you.”
I look down automatically, trying to steady my breathing. That’s when I notice my phone still clutched tightly in my hand. The screen is lit up. The call timer’s still running.
Three hours and forty-two minutes.
Atlas never hung up.
Something inside me caves in completely. Because he stayed. Even after I fell asleep. Even after hours passed.
He stayed.
My throat tightens violently.
Atlas sees it happen in real time. “Damien?—”
I move before I can think about it. I tear off the covers and rush to him.
Atlas barely catches me before we both stumble backward hard enough that he loses balance entirely. He hits the floor with a grunt while I end up sprawled across his chest, clutching the front of his hoodie like letting go might physically kill me.
And then I start crying, broken sobs racking through my chest, the kind of crying that feels ripped out of somewhere deep and ugly and exhausted.
Atlas’s arm wraps tightly around my back while his other hand slides into my hair, fingers threading carefully through the curls at the nape of my neck. He holds me tightly, his body fitting into mine like I was made for him.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
I shake my head hard against his shoulder, breath catching painfully. “I’m sorry,” I choke out.
“Hey.” Atlas tightens his arms around me. “No. None of that.”
Another sob tears out of me before I can stop it.
Atlas shifts slightly beneath me until he’s sitting more comfortably against the side of the bed, keeping me tucked firmly against his chest the entire time, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
“Honey,” he murmurs.
The nickname wrecks me because Atlas says it so gently, like I’m something precious instead of broken. His lips press lightly to my curls once. Then again.
He scatters small, soft kisses across the top of my head while he holds me through the panic that’s slowly bleeding out of my system.
“You’re okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay.”
I grip him harder. Atlas smells like clean laundry and hospital sanitizer and the faintest trace of his cologne. Familiar. Safe. Real.
Nothing like Sebastian.
Nothing like fear.
The realization settles into my chest slowly while Atlas rubs his hand up and down my back in steady, soothing motions.
“You scared me,” he admits quietly after a while.
Guilt twists in my stomach. “I know.”
“When you called…” He exhales softly against my hair. “I’ve never heard you sound like that before.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”
“Damien.”
The way he says my name makes me finally lift my head enough to look at him. Atlas’s expression hurts to look at.
Concern.
Exhaustion.
Something heartbreakingly soft underneath both.
“You never have to apologize for needing me,” he says quietly.
My chest tightens so hard it physically aches.
Nobody has ever said something like that to me before.
Not without conditions attached.
Not without eventually weaponizing it.
But Atlas means it.
I wipe roughly at my face, embarrassed now that the panic has faded enough for self-awareness to creep back in.
Atlas catches my wrist gently before I can hide from him completely. “Hey,” he says softly. “Look at me.”
I do.
“You’re safe.”
I am, because he’s here, holding me on my bedroom floor at almost four in the morning like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
How many nights have I stayed up because I was afraid Sebastian would appear? Or slept in the bathtub just to feel safe?
“How did you even get in?” I ask quietly.
Atlas’s mouth twitches slightly. “You gave me a spare key for emergencies.”
Right. I did that a few weeks ago, after paparazzi nearly followed us into the building.
At the time it felt practical.
Now it feels deeply intimate.
I stare at him for another second too long.
Something changes in Atlas’s expression. The softness deepens into something warmer. Needier. Like seeing me this vulnerable cracked something open inside him.
Suddenly, he’s kissing me. His lips are soft against mine while he holds my face like it’s made of glass. It steals the air from my lungs immediately.
Atlas cups my face carefully while he kisses me like he’s trying to erase every terrible thing that ever touched me. Every kiss lingers, warm and patient and devastatingly affectionate. I grab his waist, trying to keep myself anchored to him.
Atlas makes a quiet sound against my mouth and pulls me closer, until I’m practically sitting in his lap.
“I’m okay?” I whisper against his lips.
“Yeah.” Another kiss. “I’ve got you.”
The panic inside me finally loosens completely under the weight of his mouth and hands and steady breathing. Atlas kisses me like he’s trying to convince my body that the nightmare is over.
Eventually, he pulls back just enough to brush his forehead against mine. “We should go to bed,” he murmurs.
I nod immediately. The exhaustion crashes over me all at once now that the adrenaline is finally gone.
Atlas helps me stand before grabbing his backpack from the floor.
He moves around my room comfortably now, like he belongs here, peeling off his hoodie and sweatpants without embarrassment until he’s standing there in only black boxers.
The sight would normally make my brain short-circuit, but right now it just makes me feel calm.
Atlas slides into bed behind me after turning off the lamp, his warm skin pressing against my back while he pulls the blankets over both of us. Then he wraps himself around me completely—one arm across my waist, his chest against my spine, his legs tangled carefully with mine.
Protective.
Grounding.
Safe.
I close my eyes while Atlas presses another kiss gently behind my ear.
“I’ll watch over you,” he whispers.
My throat tightens again, because I believe him completely.
“You can sleep,” he murmurs softly. “I’ve got you.”
And wrapped tightly in Atlas’s arms, with his heartbeat steady against my back…
I finally fall asleep.