Chapter 21
Damien
Atlas doesn’t let me stay at my apartment. The second I finish telling him everything, his entire demeanor changes from heartbroken to terrifyingly focused.
“We’re leaving,” he says.
I blink at him through swollen eyes. “What?”
“Pack a bag.”
“Atlas—”
“Damien.” His voice softens slightly. “Please.”
I stare at him for a second, then quietly do what he says. Part of me still expects him to recoil from me once the shock wears off. I keep waiting for disgust to creep into his expression now that he knows the truth.
It never does.
Atlas looks at me exactly the same way he always has—carefully, tenderly, like I’m worth protecting.
Atlas has me wait in the lobby while he circles the block twice checking for unfamiliar cars. Then he orders an Uber instead of taking his own car.
“So we can’t be followed,” he explains quietly.
The fact that he immediately understands how dangerous Sebastian is makes my stomach twist. Most people would think I’m exaggerating, but Atlas believed me instantly. I’m sure reading his file helped.
The Uber ride is silent except for the occasional buzz of traffic outside the windows. I sit beside Atlas in the backseat, trying not to completely fall apart from exhaustion. Now that I’ve finally told someone the truth, the adrenaline that’s kept me upright for the past few weeks is fading fast.
Atlas slides his hand quietly into mine, and I almost start crying again. His touch is so gentle, warm…protective.
My throat tightens painfully.
“You okay?” Atlas asks softly.
No. Not even remotely. But I lean my head against his shoulder anyway.
And for the first time in weeks, I feel safe enough to close my eyes.
The hotel is almost an hour outside the city, expensive enough that nobody asks questions and anonymous enough that nobody recognizes us. Atlas checks us in under his middle name.
The entire time, he keeps touching me lightly, like he’s reassuring himself I’m still here—hand against my back, his fingers brushing mine, soft pressure against my neck in the elevator. It’s wrecking me emotionally because Atlas knows everything now, and somehow, he’s even kinder than before.
When we make it to our room, Atlas locks the door immediately after we walk in and checks the deadbolt twice. He believes Sebastian is dangerous enough to warrant fear. I spent years convincing myself that maybe I was overreacting.
Atlas figured it out in under twenty-four hours.
“Sit,” he says gently.
I obey automatically, too exhausted to argue.
Atlas rummages around the room for a moment before returning with bottled water and a room service menu. “You need to eat.”
The idea makes nausea curl through my stomach. “I’m not hungry.”
Atlas gives me a look. “When’s the last time you ate real food?”
I look away.
“That bad, huh?”
“I’ve been drinking protein shakes.”
“Damien.”
“I couldn’t keep anything else down.”
The concern on Atlas’s face deepens painfully. God, I hate this. I hate being looked at like something fragile. But Atlas doesn’t look disgusted, just worried. So unbelievably worried.
He kneels in front of me, his large hands settling gently against my thighs. “You’re going to eat something tonight,” he says quietly. “Even if it’s only a little.”
“I’ll throw up.”
“Then we’ll deal with that if it happens.”
The softness in his voice nearly destroys me.
I swallow hard. “You shouldn’t be this nice to me.”
Atlas’s expression hardens. “Don’t start that shit again.”
The look on my face must be something terrible, because his expression crumples.
“Baby,” he says softly. “I’m not angry at you.”
The words hit deep enough to hurt. “I lied to you.”
“You were terrified.”
“I threw games.”
“To protect my sister.”
Tears burn behind my eyes again.
Atlas reaches up and brushes his thumb beneath one of them before it can fall. “You survived a monster,” he says quietly. “Stop acting like that makes you the villain here.”
I can’t look at him after that because I genuinely don’t know how to process someone loving me this gently after learning about the ugliest parts of my life.
Atlas orders food for both of us despite my weak protests—soup, bread, pasta; simple things he thinks might be easy for me to keep down. Then he settles beside me on the couch with his laptop while I slowly force myself through half a bowl of soup.
Atlas looks up at me from time to time as he types, making sure I actually eat.
“What are you doing?” I ask after a while.
Atlas doesn’t look up from the laptop. “Trying to ruin Sebastian’s life.”
Despite everything, a weak laugh escapes me.
Atlas glances over at me. “I’m serious.”
“I know.”
His jaw tightens. “I’m gonna put him in prison. Or kill him. Whichever happens first.”
Something cold slides through me. “You can’t.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No, Atlas.” Panic rises fast in my chest. “You don’t understand how connected he is.”
Atlas turns the laptop toward me. “I don’t think he’s as untouchable as he wants you to believe.”
I stare at the screen.
Multiple articles.
Financial reports.
Illegal gambling investigations.
Sports betting forums.
Atlas points toward one particular article. “You know what Sebastian’s biggest mistake was?”
“What?”
“He got greedy.”
I frown.
Atlas leans back against the couch cushions. “He’s not just running prostitution and gambling schemes anymore. He’s betting huge money on NHL games now.”
Ice slides down my spine. “He’s using me.”
“Exactly.” Atlas’s eyes darken. “And that means he’s committing federal crimes involving professional sports manipulation.”
I stare at him.
Atlas starts rapidly typing again. “If we can prove coercion,” he continues, “and connect the betting patterns to your games…”
Realization slowly spreads through me. “You think the league would investigate him.”
Atlas laughs once, humorlessly. “The league?” He shakes his head. “Honey, I’m talking FBI.”
My pulse spikes. Because suddenly, for the first time since Sebastian came back, there’s a possibility this nightmare could actually end.
Atlas keeps talking while pulling up spreadsheets and betting records. “He’s sloppy. The betting spikes line up perfectly with your performance drops.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “How are you figuring this out?”
Atlas glances up at me. “I’m rich thanks to our publicity stunt, obsessive, and very in love with you.”
The words hit me so hard I stop breathing for a second.
Very in love with you.
Even now.
After everything.
Atlas is still talking when I take the laptop out of his hands.
He blinks up at me in surprise. “What are you doing?”
I don’t answer. I just carefully set the laptop onto the coffee table before climbing into his lap.
Atlas goes quiet, his hands gravitating toward me like magnets. The second I settle against him, something inside me finally breaks apart completely, because I’m exhausted. So exhausted.
And Atlas is still here.
After everything.
After the mugshot.
After the games.
After finding out I lied to him for weeks.
He’s still touching me gently, like I’m something worth saving.
I wrap both arms around his neck and bury my face against his skin.
Atlas holds me tighter. “Hey,” he murmurs.
I shake my head against his shoulder. “No, let me say this.”
Atlas goes still beneath me.
The room is quiet except for the soft hum of the hotel air conditioner and my uneven breathing.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
His arms tighten. “You don’t have to apologize for what happened to you.”
“I’m not apologizing for that.” My throat burns. “I’m apologizing because I played with your feelings for months while pretending this wasn’t real.” Atlas starts to interrupt, but I grip his hoodie harder. “Please.”
He falls quiet again.
I inhale shakily against his neck. “I kept trying to convince myself that none of this meant anything, because if it wasn’t real…” My voice cracks. “Then it couldn’t destroy me.”
Atlas’s hand slides slowly up and down my back.
“I wanted you from the beginning,” I admit quietly. “That was the problem.”
The confession hangs between us.
Raw.
Terrifying.
“I kept thinking eventually you’d realize who I actually was and leave.” I laugh weakly against his skin. “So I tried to stay ahead of it.”
Atlas pulls back enough to look at me. His face looks wrecked already. “Damien?—”
“I couldn’t understand why you were being so kind to me.” Tears start burning behind my eyes again. “You looked at me like I was something good.”
Atlas cups my face. “Because you are.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t know everything.”
“I know now.”
“I kept waiting for you to stop touching me so gently,” I whisper.
Atlas’s expression crumples. “Baby…”
“You have no idea how terrifying it was.” My voice shakes harder now. “Every time you kissed me or held me or brought me coffee before practice…” I swallow hard. “I kept thinking there had to be a catch.”
“There was never a catch.”
“I know that now.” The words come out small.
Atlas carefully brushes his thumb beneath my eye. “When?” he asks softly.
“What?”
“When did you start loving me?”
The question makes my chest ache.
“That nightmare.” I laugh shakily through my tears. “That was the first time somebody ever saw me fall apart and stayed anyway.”
Atlas closes his eyes briefly, like the words physically hurt him.
“You climbed into bed with me,” I whisper. “You held me all night like you were trying to protect me from everything.” My voice breaks. “And I remember thinking that if I let myself love you, it would ruin me forever.”
Atlas kisses me softly before I can spiral further. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
“I love you,” I whisper shakily.
Atlas goes completely still beneath me.
“I love you so much it scares me.”
The emotion that crosses his face makes my heart stutter. Because Atlas Connors—golden boy Atlas Connors—looks like I just handed him the entire world.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
I smile through the tears. “I love you.”
Atlas kisses me hard enough to steal my breath.
Not rough.
Not frantic.
Just emotional enough that I can feel how badly he needed to hear me say it.
His hands slide into my hair while I melt against him.
“I love you, too,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Jesus Christ, Damien. I love you so much.”
The words settle deep enough to heal something ugly inside me.
And for the first time in my life, love doesn’t feel transactional. It doesn’t feel earned through pain.
It just feels warm. Safe.
Atlas kisses me again, softer this time, while pulling me closer against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat through his shirt—strong, and steady, and real.
“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” I whisper against his lips.
Atlas shakes his head. “You were surviving.”
“I hurt you.”
“You were trying to save my sister.”
Atlas presses another kiss against my forehead before standing with me still wrapped around him.
I laugh weakly. “Now?”
“The man I’m devastatingly in love with just told me he loves me too. I can’t think of a better turn on.”
I bury my face against his neck and laugh while he carries me toward the bed.
The hotel room feels strangely soft around us, safe in a way I haven’t felt in years. Atlas lays me carefully onto the mattress before climbing over me slowly, like he’s giving me every opportunity to stop him.
His thumbs catch the bottom of my shirt, lifting it gently before pausing. “Is this okay?”
I nod. “Yes, baby.”
I don’t want him to stop. I want more of this. More softness. More love. More Atlas.
His hands move carefully over my body while he kisses me slowly enough that I feel every inch of it. Atlas undresses me like he’s handling something precious, and every time he touches one of my scars or bruises, he kisses the skin gently enough to make my throat ache.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against my chest.
I laugh quietly. “You’re biased.”
He kisses my hipbone. “I love you.”
The honesty in his voice makes heat bloom low in my stomach.
I pull Atlas up into another kiss while his body settles fully against mine. My hands fumble with his clothes as he tries to help me undress him.
I trace my fingers down the ornamental tattoos on his arm as he kisses my neck. “I love you,” I mumble.
Atlas groans and pulls my knees up to my chest. He buries his mouth between my ass cheeks.
“Fuck,” I moan.
His tongue and fingers start spreading me apart desperately. The feel of the slick muscle sliding inside of me makes my fingers grasp the sheets in order to stay present. Atlas’s large hands move my legs over his broad shoulders.
My hands knot themselves in Atlas’s hair. “I missed you so much. Don’t leave.”
Atlas pulls away from me, his eyes dark with lust as he repositions us. He looks down at me, my legs still balanced on his shoulders as his hand drags up my thigh and rests at my knee.
“Oh, I’m never leaving you again.” I feel the head of his cock press against my entrance.
He’s not rough or angry like he was in the storage closet. He waits for my frantic nods, or for my body to relax, before he pushes in farther and farther.
We move together slowly, kissing through soft laughter and whispered confessions while the world outside the hotel room disappears. Atlas keeps checking my face like he’s making sure I’m really here with him, and I keep touching him like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I stop.
He pushes his hips deeper into me. “Touch yourself for me, honey. I want you to feel good.”
My hand starts working my cock as Atlas’s greedy eyes watch me. He pumps and pumps at such a slow pace that I think it might kill me.
“Atlas, harder. Please, baby,” I groan, hooking my ankles behind his neck.
Atlas makes a needy sound and leans over me, almost bending me in half. He starts fucking me like a madman, like I’m the only one who can offer him release.
When we finally come together, it feels nothing like the angry, desperate sex we had before. This is intimate in a way that almost scares me.
Atlas holds me through all of it.
Kisses me through all of it.
Loves me through all of it.
And afterward, when we’re tangled together beneath hotel sheets with my head resting against his chest, I realize something terrifying and wonderful at the same time:
For the first time, I genuinely believe I might survive this.