I burst through the doors, panic seizing my lungs. I can’t believe how stupid I was to let myself believe this was different. I push my way through bodies, just needing to get out of here. “Hey?” Oli catches my wrist.
I snatch it out of his hand. “I have to go.” I’m barely containing my tears. I pull away from him, ignoring the question on his face. I can’t believe this.
I can barely seethe stairs through the tears burning my eyes. I don’t know where I’m going. I just can’t stay here with him. Grey has our return tickets, but I do have my own money. I still have a lot left since I never spent much of it. I have to find a flight. I have to get out of here.
I have nowhere to go.
Maybe I can stay in a hotel until I can get my things from Grey’s. I’m sure he’ll pay to ship my shit if it means he gets Atlas all to himself.
I’m out of breath before I hit the hotel lobby. All I want is to get my things and get out of here. I take the elevator up to our room, my eyes stinging. I keep blinking back the wall of tears that want to spill. When I step out onto our floor, I feel it. It’s a little prickle of awareness. A tiny tap on my brain that says something isn’t quite right. Maybe it’s because years of abuse have heightened my senses, but something feels off.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as soon as I enter our room. The air is heavy, weighing down my body as instinct tries to scream at me. I look around and everything is where it should be, but it’s still quiet in a way that twists my gut.
“You know...” Icy claws bite into my back. I turn to see Steven walk out of the bathroom. “I am almost impressed.”
This can’t happen. I should have known I’d end up back here. I can’t believe I actually did it. That I escaped. It’s laughable. It’s been nearly six months, and he hasn’t let go. Because he won’t ever let go. He always gets what he wants.
I guess this solves Grey’s problem. Now he can be with Atlas without me hanging around. “What are you doing?”
I slowly back away from him, but it’s no use. I have no fight left in me. I don’t know what to do. “Tell you what. If you come with me now, no fuss at all...” He throws his hands up. “If you come with me nice and easy, I won’t put a bullet between his eyes when he comes up here.” He smiles. “If you want to fight me, I will kill him, his friends who come to check on him, and that sweet girl you were talking to earlier.”
He was there? How the hell did I miss that?! “You can’t do that.” I know he can.
“Cute kid. She his niece? Would be a shame if she had to watch her mother, father, and uncle all die in one night. Don’t worry. She won’t live long enough to be upset.”
“You’re a monster.”
A slow, slimy smile spreads across his face, and I can’t believe I ever found anything to love about him. “Come on, Felix. Enough of the games. Let’s go home.”
I’m going to be sick. Grey will be up soon, though. Maybe not right away, but eventually he’ll come to deal with me. Even if he doesn’t want me, I would never want any harm to come to them all.
Steven may not kill them now, but I won’t risk them being in danger.
“Fine.” I swallow. “Can I get some of my things?”
He shakes his head. “All your shit is at home.” He waves me toward the door. “Let’s go.”
My legs move forward, my feet weighed down as though with cement. “You have to promise you won’t hurt them.”
“I’m a man of my word.” I almost snort. “Let’s go.”
I follow him out. He grabs the back of my neck, steering me down the hall. For a second I dare look back and up at the camera in the hall. With one last desperate attempt, I sign for help behind my back. Not that it will do me any good. He wrenches my head forward. It’s not like anyone will come looking for me. Grey will probably think the problem took care of itself.
I’m not coming back from this.
I have no fight left in me. None.
I was stupid to think I ever had any in me to begin with.
THIRTY
Grey
I follow Atlas through the exit into a blinding white hall. I have no idea where he’s going. I tried to talk to him at the bar, but he just got up and pushed his way through the crowd. We turn down another hallway, and he shocks me by grabbing me. He grips my sleeves with alarming strength. I know he’s drunk as hell, but I’ve seen him drunk before, and this is different. “What’s going on with you?”
“How can you not see it!?” His blue eyes swim, glassy and heavy with something I can’t place. What is happening to him?
“You’re shit-faced drunk right now. What is going on with you?” This isn’t him. Yes, he has problems, but this is on a whole different level than what I’m used to. I’ve always been able to handle him, but I can’t handle this. I can’t handle something that I can’t understand.
