Chapter 30 #2
With just enough life left in him to resist, Joey fell to his back with the knife still plunged in his throat, swinging the gun wildly as he went, and fired one last shot before he stilled, lifeless and unmoving.
My Masked Man cried out, stumbling backwards.
“Atlas!” I screamed.
No. This wasn’t right. Blood was coming out of him, now. He wasn’t supposed to do that. Nothing should ever be wrong with him.
I crawled over Joey’s crumpled body to where Atlas had fallen. He pressed a hand to his right shoulder, where blood seeped through his sweatshirt and gloved fingers at an alarming rate.
I put my hands over his, pressing hard. “He’s bleeding!” I yelled. “He’s hurt! We have to get help. We have to hurry.” My voice cracked on the last word.
Atlas was here. He found me and saved me. He was mine. I had to tell him he was mine and that I was sorry—so, so sorry for all the horrible things I’d said. He needed to know I wanted him no matter what secrets he kept. He was my mate, and he was bleeding, and—
“Hey,” he said, voice rough. “S’gonna be alright, sweetheart.”
I wiped my nose, not realizing I was crying or that I’d said that out loud. “You’re hurt,” I replied dumbly, pressing harder on his shoulder.
“M’fine.” His cough stole the confidence from his words. “Just need a bandaid.”
“Let me see,” the other Masked Man said, ripping the knit material over his head to reveal Mr. Marino, just like I’d suspected.
What was this, The Incredibles? Was everyone in this family a secret, masked vigilante?
While Mr. Marino checked Atlas over for any additional wounds and began applying a tourniquet using his belt, I hovered over his face. Slowly, so he could tell me to stop if he wanted, I gently slipped my fingers beneath the mask and peeled it off.
Even sickly pale with dark circles under his eyes and blood smeared across his brow, he was beautiful. I’d never tire of studying the way all of his features fit together, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, or the faint scar on his left temple.
I brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “Hi,” I said, suddenly shy.
“Hi,” Atlas whispered, eyes darting back and forth between mine before he clenched his teeth and tensed as Mr. Marino tightened the belt.
“Thank you for coming to get me,” I said. “And I’m sorry.”
“Shh.” Atlas lifted his uninjured arm and brushed a tear away. “Always. Always.”
“We need to go,” Mr. Marino interrupted, more anxious than I’d ever heard him. “I think it’s just a graze, but he won’t stop bleeding. He needs to see a doctor.”
My stomach plummeted.
“No doctors,” Atlas wheezed, trying to sit up and falling backwards again. He pressed his hand to his forehead. “No questions.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I said. “You need to go to the emergency room.”
Atlas shook his head but wouldn’t open his eyes. “Questions. Too many.”
“Fuck,” Mr. Marino spat. “Max, help me get him in the car. I know someone we can call.”
Mr. Marino heaved Atlas up into a sitting position, and we each hooked an arm over our shoulders, helping him to the car. He flopped down in the back seat with a heavy groan.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, voice shaky. This was more than just a graze.
“I’m not sure,” Mr. Marino said, but he avoided my gaze. “Open the trunk and lay out the tarp.”
Quickly, I did as he asked while he fireman-carried Joey’s dead, lifeless body over and tossed him in. I grabbed the gun and knife, and threw them in after him.
“What about all the blood?” I asked, looking around. There was a giant pool coagulating in the dirt where Joey had fallen.
“No one comes out here. I’ll come back tonight to clean up and get rid of his car.”
That reminded me. “My phone’s still in the warehouse. Joey threw it on the floor.”
“I’ll go find it,” Mr. Marino said, jogging inside. “Stay with Atlas.”
I stared at Joey’s lifeless body one last time, committing to memory the pathetic way he crumpled in the trunk. His eyes were open, but nothing was behind them.
I’d wanted to see this—dreamed of drinking in his final moments. But staring down at him now, I realized it was never his death that I sought.
It was his fear, and the alpha who instilled it in him.
I closed the hatch and piled into the back seat with Atlas, resting his head in my lap so I could stroke his hair. He groaned, leaning into my touch.
Mr. Marino ducked into the driver’s seat a minute later and passed me my shattered phone.
“What do we do with Joey?” I asked as we sped away.
“I’ll take him out on the boat tonight,” he answered. There wasn’t a trace of uncertainty in his voice.
I pictured Joey sinking to the bottom of Lake Superior, cold and alone with no one to give him dignity in death.
That was how he deserved to be remembered.
Atlas shifted, pressing his face into my middle. He blinked up at me, eyes glazed and far away. Fear gripped my throat.
There was no room in my life to think about the ugly monster in the trunk ever again. Atlas swooped in two years ago and eclipsed my pain, shouldering as much of it as he could, even from afar.
And now we were all that was left of that awful night.
He was what mattered. We mattered. From the ashes, we’d grown something beautiful. Something I’d fight and die for. A future I’d risk my pride and dignity for, reveal the most vulnerable parts of me for, and humble myself for.
Because that was what Atlas deserved. It was what I deserved, too.
I pressed a kiss to his fevered forehead, and let go of every bit of power I’d allowed Joey to have over my thoughts.
Over everything else, I chose Atlas.