Page 19

“As I said, we were traveling back from the Rift when we stopped to rest,” I began. “I wandered away from camp, and he found me.”

Atlas immediately looked to Aster, but before he could say a word, I got in there first.

“Before you say anything, no, it wasn’t Aster’s fault.”

His jaw tightened, though thankfully, he allowed me to continue. The glare he shot towards Aster suggested that particular conversation had merely been postponed until later.

“At first, he seemed normal. Strange, perhaps, but normal. Then I noticed the black veins beneath his skin, and he started talking about being enlightened. The more he spoke, the more everything felt wrong. Before I could react, shadows wrapped around me, and I lost consciousness. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a basement.”

Silence settled over the room once I finished speaking.

Atlas hadn’t moved a muscle.

Yet the longer I looked at him, the more obvious it became that he was struggling to keep control. His breathing had deepened, his shoulders were rigid with tension, and there was a dangerous stillness about him that worried me far more than if he had decided to vent his anger.

“Continue the story, Alexandra,” he seemed to force out, his voice controlled, though only just.

I released a slow breath and tried to organize the memories into something that resembled a coherent story.

“I woke up in a basement, and Riley was there. He kept insisting you were the enemy, that you wanted to use me, destroy our world, and somehow take over Theïkós. None of it made any sense. The more he spoke, the more obvious it became that something wasn’t right. I asked him about the darkness spreading through him, but he refused to answer. Instead, he insisted nobody was controlling him, that everything he was doing was by choice.”

I shook my head, hating that I was reliving it again.

“But I knew better. I know Riley, Atlas. Whatever was standing in front of me wasn’t really him. The veins beneath his skin, the way he spoke, the emptiness in his eyes. He wasn’t free… he was trapped inside himself.”

Across the table, Lazaros lowered his gaze, and there was a heaviness to his expression that hadn’t been there before. As though hearing the similarities laid out so plainly forced him to confront parts of his own experience he would rather avoid.

“Did he hurt you?”

I looked away as a single tear slipped free, but Atlas reached across the table and cupped my chin, gently forcing my face back towards him. His gaze softened as he searched my eyes, and when another tear threatened to follow, he brushed the back of his knuckles down my cheek, catching it before it could fall.

“I will take that sorrow as my answer,” he said, and the quiet certainty in his voice made me swallow hard. His gaze shifted to Aster. “Tell me he was punished.”

Pain tightened in my chest so suddenly that I had to suck in a sharp breath.

“We got to her in time,” Aster replied, his expression darkening. “Bronte and I. After that, we returned him to the penitentiary and locked him back in the same cell he’d occupied before.”

“Good. Then I will deal with him when I return.” The words hit me like a physical blow. I gasped and instinctively pulled away from him, shaking my head before I had even fully processed the reaction.

“No... you won’t,” I gritted out.

“Alexandra.” The warning in his voice was clear, but I continued to shake my head, refusing to back down despite the dangerous look settling over his features.

“If you want someone to blame, then blame the only person responsible, the one who is still out there somewhere. But I would no more condemn your brother for what happened than I would condemn my best friend, so I only ask that you do the same.”

The words left me in a rush and judging by the way Atlas briefly closed his eyes, they hit exactly where I intended them to. When he opened them again, he released a slow breath.

“We will discuss this later.”

At that, I stood so abruptly that the chair scraped loudly across the stone floor, the sound echoing through the room.

“No, we won’t.” I hissed, and Atlas’s head snapped toward me. “If you disagree, then I will willingly walk out that door right now and not look back...” I continued, refusing to back down despite the warning already building in his expression.

“Sit back down, Alexandra, for my patience is running thin,” Atlas snapped, and I pushed away from the table.

“I’m serious, Atlas. This is not some royal judgment you can cast over my best friend. You’re not his king, and you’re not mine.”

His teeth clenched so hard that I saw the muscle in his jaw jump, and for a moment, he looked dangerously close to losing what little restraint he had left. Neither of us moved. We just stared at one another across the table, both breathing too heavily. Both too stubborn to look away, trapped in a silent standoff that made me wonder which one of us would break first.