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I left the townhouse feeling more like shit than I did when we got there. It was two in the morning by the time I got back to my apartment. The storm was still raging outside, and I decided to walk most of the way home. I didn’t care that I was soaked from head to toe, my make-up running down my face, and my hair clinging to my skin. I needed the long walk to sort through my thoughts and the events of tonight. I couldn’t breathe; my heart was so tight in my chest.
What was I going to do about Atlas…
I had checked my phone several times, and there was nothing from him. But why would there be? It wouldn’t have surprised me if he had already gone ahead and blocked and deleted my number. Hell, I would have erased myself from my life if I could, too. I couldn’t blame him—for any of this.
I opened the door to my apartment and stepped inside, my wet boots squeaking on the hardwood floor as I moved to my bedroom. The lightning flashed through the window and lit up the entire bedroom. I pulled back my hood, and even with it up the entire walk home, my hair was completely soaked from the rain and stuck to my face.
I started unzipping my jacket before I was suddenly slammed against the wall, a strong hand gripping my throat. Lightning flashed, and I could see the large silhouette of a man in front of me. Gripping onto his arm and digging my nails in, I tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he only squeezed harder. I growled and kicked out at him, showing that I had more fight than I did. I was so exhausted from the night that I was running on fumes.
“If you’re going to kill me, then do it already.” I hissed out between my teeth. I wasn’t about to let him intimidate me; at this point, it was the least I deserved. The pain of not being able to breathe right now was nothing compared to the pain I felt in my chest when I saw the look in Atlas’s eyes at the plant. He was all I could think about right now, and I swear, with the next flash of lightning, I saw his eyes instead of my attacker’s.
He leaned in, dragging his nose along my cheek.
“You’re not as sweet as you pretend to be, are you?” His voice was smooth like honey, and his warm breath was a caress on my cold, wet skin. I knew that voice.
He let up on my throat slightly, and I inhaled a deep breath, his scent flooding my senses. Even knowing it was him and the sigh of relief that came with it, I couldn’t help but remain speechless and terrified at the same time.
An adrenaline rush claimed me, and my mind was racing a thousand miles a minute. I wanted to explain everything to him—beg for his forgiveness. But another part of me was hit with the realization that he might be here to kill me or turn me into the CIA instead.
I didn’t answer him. What good would it do? I’m sure he’s already made his mind up about me. He wasn’t here for me; he was here for himself.
“Answer me, Chyler.” He pulled my neck back and slammed me against the wall again, a whimper falling from my lips as I squeezed my eyes closed from the pain and dug my nails deeper into the sleeve of his jacket. “Where’s that fierce and fiery vixen that I saw on the camera feed from the manufacturing plant?”
“I—You don’t… understand…” I gritted out as best I could with his hand around my throat and the lack of air in my lungs.
Here it is, the moment that I confessed everything to him and hoped that he would forgive me. A twisted part of me hoped that he wouldn’t. I didn’t deserve him anymore. I didn’t deserve anything.
“Understand what? That I was fucking the woman I’ve spent the past month trying to find?” His fist met the wall next to my head, creating a dent in the plaster. I curled into myself; his words were twisted with rage, “Goddamnit, Chyler. I fucking loved you.”
My eyes flared wide, and my breath caught with his last words. Loved.
“Atlas, I—” My voice cracked as I tried to say the words that refused to leave my throat; he cursed and threw me across the room onto the bed.
I scrambled in the sheets, trying to pull myself away from him, but he grabbed my ankles and pulled me back, climbing over me to straddle my hips and hold me down. He pinned my wrists to the side of my head with his hands. The weight from him sank me further into the mattress. The room was dark, and the lightning from the storm was the only source of light as I struggled under his weight.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sighed, the sound of defeat laced between his words. I could feel his hard length against my stomach as he pressed into me. Was this turning him on? Was he no longer angry with me? I could feel his grip start to loosen on my wrists, and I couldn’t help the fucked up laugh that escaped my throat.
“Tell you what? That I was some hired assassin? One that—apparently, I might add—is being hunted down by the CIA?” Was he being serious right now?
I didn’t know what I was feeling anymore. I felt everything: angry, broken, defeated, scared, all of the above. The fact that he didn’t tell me he worked for the CIA was also part of the problem. I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets between us. All this time, we have been running around like Mr & Mrs fucking Smith.
“I don’t know; I thought I knew you. After all these weeks of spending time together, especially when you opened up to me about your parents… Your vulnerability made me believe we had no secrets left between us. That you were being honest with me.” His voice was stern, but I could hear the hurt beneath it.
I scoffed. “Don’t you dare put all of the blame for this on me. You never told me you worked for the CIA; you held back information just as much as I did—”
“And I regretted it. Every fucking second of it.” He snapped, cutting me off.
I shut my mouth and pressed myself deeper into the bed. He released me, pushing off the bed, and began pacing at the foot of it. With a dark chuckle, he ran his hands through his hair and then snapped his gaze to mine.
“I didn’t tell you I worked for the CIA because I didn’t want my job to intimidate you. I wanted to give myself the best shot I had at having you. And here you are, some expert hitman for hire.”
“And let me guess, you regret every single second you spent with me. That I was a complete waste of your time?” I pushed up on my elbows, my voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned to face me fully and bent over the bed, pressing his hands into the mattress.
“You were anything but that.” He mumbled under his breath, hanging his head and fisting the sheets, his knuckles turning white.
I moved to sit up fully, realizing that he was at war with himself. Just as I was a month ago, he wanted me but couldn’t have me because of his job and mine. I was the forbidden fruit he craved. I bit my cheek and fell forward, crawling across the bed towards him.
I already knew what he wasn’t saying.
