She was. She’s mine.
And I feel the blood on her skin soak into my shirt, and I swear—I swear to every fucking God that’s ever been prayed to—I will never let this happen again.
She’s mine.
“I got you. You’re safe,” I tell her.
“Oh, Atlas,” she whimpers.
“You’re mine, you hear me? Mine. And it’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you now. I won’t fuck it up again.”
Sigma agents storm in behind me, their boots pounding, radios crackling, but they might as well be ghosts. Background noise.
I cradle her tighter, shielding her from the noise, from the stares.
“Michail!” I bark.
He appears instantly, wide-eyed but smart enough not to glance at my wife.
“Yes, sir?”
“Search that filthy son of a bitch for her ring. Clean it. Return it to me personally.”
“Yes, sir.”
I stand. She groans, curling into my chest, wincing.
“Where did he hurt you?” I ask, voice raw.
“Does it matter?” she whispers. “You saved me.”
God. She’s so brave.
And I did this.
I brought her into this world. I exposed her to this danger. I thought I could keep her safe, but the truth is—she’s too good for this.
Too good for me.
I press my lips to her hair, rocking her gently as sirens wail outside the walls and Sigma finishes the clean-up.
“I’m taking you home,” I promise. “We’re done here.”
And I don’t just mean the compound.
I mean Greece.
I mean this godforsaken war for legacy.
I have what matters now.
Her.
Everything else can burn.
Chapter Thirty-Four-Cecilia
The tiny room aboard the private jet is quiet now.
