Hope flared stupidly in my chest.
Then she finished, “Most of them just end you.”
My hope died like a candle in water.
A sound hit the hallway outside—boots, heavy and deliberate.
All three women stiffened at once.
Lena’s hand moved, subtle, toward the mattress—like she was checking for something hidden underneath.Amara’s shoulders squared.Cici’s rocking stopped.
My pulse spiked.
The footsteps paused outside our door.
Someone tested the handle.
The lock held.
For now.
Amara looked at me, voice low.“You want to survive, Neve?”
My throat tightened.I nodded once.
She leaned in, close enough that only I could hear.
“You don’t survive by being wanted,” she whispered.“You survive by being impossible to own.”
The footsteps moved away.But the threat remained.
We sat in the stale air, listening to the building breathe, waiting for the moment the door opened again.
25
Atlas
The club wasn’t on any map.It sat under an old warehouse on the edge of the city, hidden behind rusted shutters and stacked crates that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years.From the outside, it looked empty and forgotten.But inside, it was clean and busy.The kind of place that made a lot of money doing things no one wanted to talk about.
Gianni leaned closer so no one else could hear him.
“We do this clean, Atlas.No impulsive shit.Follow their rules.”
I kept my eyes forward.
“Noted.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
I stopped and turned to him.
“You asked how far I’d go to get her back.There is no line I won’t cross.Don’t expect me to lie about that.”
His throat moved as he swallowed.Then he nodded once and didn’t argue.He knew I meant every word.
We kept walking.The guards at the final checkpoint stepped aside.One of them grabbed my wrist and stamped a black mark on my skin, then pointed toward a set of heavy double doors.
Low bass thumped behind them, slow and deep, like the steady beat of a metal heart waiting to crack open.