Viktor tried to gouge at Atlas’s eyes.Atlas bent his wrist back until the bone cracked like a twig.Viktor roared—a raw, animal sound—and dropped to one knee.
Atlas hauled him upright with one hand, like Viktor was nothing more than dead weight.
I swallowed a sob I hadn’t meant to let out.This was it.This was how I died.Not with dignity.Not with peace.Just blood and smoke and two monsters fighting over a ruined girl.I squeezed my eyes shut for half a heartbeat—then forced them open.
I wouldn’t die blind.Not like my parents.Not like the child I used to be.I wanted to see the face of the man who ended me.
Atlas threw Viktor into the wall again.The plaster exploded.Viktor slumped, dazed, sliding down the cracked surface.
Atlas stepped toward him.A gun gleamed in his hand—I didn’t even know where it had come from.A pocket?His boot?It didn’t matter.
What mattered was that for one terrifying second… his eyes flicked to me.And I felt it deep in my marrow.
The fire popped overhead.The ceiling groaned.Smoke masked the top half of the room.
Viktor spat blood at the floor.Atlas raised the gun.
My pulse screamed.
And in that split second of clarity before everything tilted sideways, I knew one brutal, bone-deep truth:
If Atlas Cavalho won this fight… my life wasn’t ending.
It was being rewritten.
By the very monster who should have killed me years ago.
30
Atlas
Isolved one problem tonight.We ended one war.But the bigger one waited outside.
Neve.
I turned away from the burning club and moved.
I found Marcello in the car park, Neve slumped in his arms.Her head rested against his shoulder, her body limp, her face bruised and dirt-streaked.She was barely breathing, exhaustion having claimed her some moments ago.Her lashes fluttered, but her eyes were closed.
My brother looked up the second I approached.
“She’s alive, but exhausted.”
A knot loosened in my chest so sharply it hurt.I nodded once.
Marcello shifted her weight, holding her securely.Gently.He was being careful with her.Too careful.It grated.I had no right to feel that way.No claim.But rage sparked anyway.
“Let’s go.”
Marcello loaded her into the back seat of the car, adjusting her so she wouldn’t slump forward.
Then he closed the door and turned to me.And his eyes were dead serious.
Here it fucking comes.
“What the fuck are you doing, Atlas?”he asked quietly.
I said nothing.