Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
MAX
A crease formed between my eyebrows. Given the context of how we met, that wasn’t surprising. It was even a little thrilling, now that I knew he was never going to hurt me. “I know that already. You followed me when Gwen and I went shopping and again to the heat teacher’s office,” I said.
“No. Before that.”
I pulled back to look at him. “Atlas, I know you stalked me, too, back when you were hunting Joey. You broke into my apartment to talk to me. Twice. It makes sense that you were watching beforehand. I really don’t understand why—”
He cleared his throat. “More than twice.”
I paused, breath caught. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I broke into your home more than the two times you know of.” His words were slow, as if carefully stepping around a landmine.
Blinking, I opened and closed my mouth. More than the times I knew of? He’d been there before? When? How had I not known? Did he mean while I worked for Mr. Marino, or… before before?
That familiar, syrupy pulse of desire mixed with something dark and velvety crept up my spine. After realizing Atlas would never hurt me, I thought it had disappeared. I thought I was glad it had disappeared.
So why did it feel so delicious all over again?
I smoothed a thumb over the furrow in his brow. “I think you should start from the beginning, and tell me everything.”
His eyes squeezed shut, and he nodded. “Will you turn around so I can hold you?”
Atlas seemed to find it easier to first share these big emotional moments without looking at me. There was something in that to dig deeper on, something to do with the mask and a fear of being truly known, but I’d think more on it later.
For now, I was just grateful he was sharing himself with me at all.
I turned in his lap and leaned back against his chest, cradled between his legs. He wrapped his arms loosely around my middle, and rested his forehead against my nape.
His voice was quiet, but steady.
“The first life I took was my father’s, eight years ago. I was twenty-two years old. But to explain why, I need to start further back.”
I rested my hand on his and focused on the steady beat of his heart against my back.
“I was nine years old the day my mom pulled me out of school for the last time. We spent the whole afternoon at the aquarium. On the way home, I begged to stop and get ice cream. She said no, we had to get home before Dad. He hated when she pulled me out; he said she interfered with the teachers who were trying to get the dumb out of me. But I begged some more, and she gave in.”
His breath hitched. “I think about that at least once every single day.”
Tick, tick, tick went the clock.
“That night after Saint fell asleep, I got up to use the bathroom. I heard shouting and crept downstairs to see them fighting in the living room. I hid behind the door so they wouldn’t know I was there.”
I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
“My father was yelling at her about taking me out of school. He said if she did it again, he would send me away to a boarding school for troubled boys. She argued.”
Wet tears splashed on the back of my neck. I tried to turn in his arms to hug him, but he held fast.
“She—she said I wasn’t dumb, I just didn’t learn the same. She said she’d divorce him and take me and my brother and all of his money before she let him send me away.”
My breaths were loud in the quiet.
“He hit her. She fell and smashed her head against the corner of the coffee table. I still have nightmares of what it sounded like. She didn’t get back up.”
I wiped the tears off my cheeks. “Atlas…”
His chest expanded in a deep breath, and he pressed on.
“My father was a wealthy man. Very wealthy. His public-facing assets were made through a lobbying firm, but it was only a fraction of the real money he made on the side through various legal and illegal revenue streams. Maybe even more influential than the money, though, were his connections in government. My mother’s death was swept under the rug.
The investigation was nonexistent, and it was labeled a possible suicide.
I never—” His voice choked. “I tried to tell the police when they were first there, but when Dad realized what I’d witnessed, he locked Saint and me in our rooms, and then he—”
Tears streamed down my face at the genuine fear and helplessness in his voice.
“You don’t have to say it,” I whispered, hugging one of his knees. “You don’t have to explain what he did for me to understand why you didn’t say anything. You were a child.”
He kissed my hair, and steel rebar reinforced his words.
“Yes. I was a scared little boy, but not forever. He didn’t send me away like he threatened to—I think he was afraid of what I’d say if he didn’t keep a close eye on me.
It wasn’t long before I promised myself I’d make him pay for what he did to Mom.
Saint helped me focus. He grounded me. We grew up and got out of that house.
And then the night our father got rip-roaring drunk in celebration of closing a major deal that went his way at the expense of one of his former business partners, we killed him together. ”
His body relaxed just the tiniest bit, as if relieved by the way the story ended. I was too.
“Did anyone suspect you?” I asked quietly.
“Nothing beyond the cursory questioning,” he said. “The slighted business partner got the real heat. He’s in prison now for an unrelated white collar crime scandal.”
“I’m glad your father is dead. He deserved it.”
Atlas kissed the top of my shoulder, lingering there.
“Yes, he did. But it doesn’t mean it was normal or right, Max.
I’m not normal. I don’t regret the bad people I take out of this world or the things I’ve done to make sure men like my father can’t hurt anyone else.
I hunt predators, and I enjoy it. I can’t change that about myself. I can’t go back in time and erase—”
I did turn around, then. His arms gave way, letting me look.
Letting me see him—the real him, unmasked, and yet still my Masked Man.
“I don't want you to be different,” I said, wiping my snotty nose. “I’m proud to be with you. You make me feel like the parts of me that were happy to see those alphas die for trying to hurt me aren’t wrong. I see you, and I want you.”
There was that look again, like he thought I would regret saying that. He ran his thumb across my cheek, catching a tear. “I thought my father would be the only one. I thought my anger would finally burn out with him. But it didn’t.”
I searched his face. “Gwen told me about her husband. She told me about what you two did.”
He nodded. “That was the turning point. With Gwen’s help, I bought the clinic and turned it into a nonprofit shelter for people like her and my Mom.
I never violated their privacy. I need you to know that, Max.
I never touched their personal information.
But if a violent partner happened to turn up looking for them…
” his nostrils flared. “They signed their own death warrant, and I was happy to collect.”
“Is that how you found Joey?” I asked.
He nodded. “A few omegas came in under similar circumstances. When I checked with a contact in law enforcement, he said they were working the cases as a suspected serial rapist. Gwen and I did some digging, and Weber’s name kept coming up.”
“And that’s how we met,” I said, going for a joke that didn’t land.
He smiled. “I thought that hunting predators was all I ever wanted in life. I thought it was all that mattered to me. And then you stepped out the back door of that restaurant, and my world flipped upside down.”
I studied the wood grain pattern on the headboard. “You said you wish I hadn’t. You wish you’d killed Joey first and we never met.”
Atlas shook his head. “I wished we’d met normally. But honestly, it’s a useless wish. I was never going to give you normal.”
Exasperated, I sighed. “I’m not going to argue with you over our hypothetical children’s futures again. We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. And I don’t want normal. I want you. None of this changes that.”
Something predatory sparked in his eyes, as if I’d thrown a challenge flag he couldn’t resist accepting any longer. His alpha peered out at me, gobbling me up with his hungry gaze.
My omega sat up, alert.
He gripped my waist tight and pulled me up, so I straddled his hips.
“You don’t want normal? What would you say if I told you the very first time I saw you, I nearly claimed you right then?
The things I wanted to do to you…” He inhaled deeply.
“All of a sudden, I wasn’t hunting Weber anymore.
I was hunting you. And I felt more alive than I have my entire life, Max. ”
My breath caught. Dark, forbidden desire coiled around me. All at once, I realized I wanted to be hunted by him, and the thought no longer horrified me.
It only made me slick.
He dragged his hands up and down my sides, lifting my shirt to expose my soft abdomen. His thumbs brushed the slight swell of my womb, still bloated from all the cum he’d spilled there.
Atlas must’ve remembered the same. His pupils dilated, slipping back into that feral state, and his cock hardened beneath me. My body responded instantly, softening beneath his touch.
“Don’t worry, sweet boy. I didn’t want to kill you.
But I did—I do—want to devour you. Swallow you whole.
Taste your lips and drink your scent until I choke.
I tried to ignore it. I tried. I told myself I only followed you instead of Weber to protect you from him.
I told myself I couldn’t have it on my conscience if he hurt you. ”