Chapter 70
Chapter 70
Atlas POV
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I parked across the street from the diner, engine humming beneath my hands.
He sent the location with a single message:
Meet me by 7.
No explanation. No name. Just that.
God, I didn’t want to be here.
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But I knew him too well, he was a landmine. A single crack in his ego and he’d blow up the whole damn world just to make me bleed.
I reached across the seat and popped open the glove compartment.
There it was.
The small black pistol sat untouched, cold, and heavy, like it had been waiting for this day too. I stared at it for a second before closing the compartment again. I didn’t plan to use it. But with him… you never knew.
When I stepped out of the car, the early evening breeze hit me. Crisp, almost peaceful… Felt like a lie.
I held the door open for an elderly woman leaving the diner. She smiled warmly at me. “Such a gentleman.”
I returned her smile and stepped inside.
There he was….Steve…sitting in the corner booth like he owned the place. A damn strawberry smoothie on the table like this was a father-son brunch. My fingers curled tight around the metal in my pocket. I didn’t sit to get comfortable. I sat because I had to
“Atlas, my boy!” he called out, loud enough for the entire diner to hear.
God, I hated that voice.
I slid into the booth across from him, eyes sharp, mood black. “What do you want, Steve?”
He placed a hand on his chest, mock-offended. “Steve? No, come on. Say it right-Papa. Or maybe just ‘Dad.”
I scoffed. My jaw flexed hard. “I’m not in the mood for your mind games. Whatever the hell you want, say it.
Now.”
His grin stretched wider as he gave a slow clap, like I’d just performed a monologue. “Such temper. Just like your old man. Apple doesn’t fall far, huh?”
“I’m nothing like you,” I snapped.
15:16 Tue, Dec 30
Chapter 70
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He raised his brows, eyes gleaming like he enjoyed hearing the venom in my voice. “Keep telling yourself that, son.”
I hated the way he said it. Like it tasted good on his tongue, he reached for his smoothie and took a loud, obnoxious sip. “Anyway. I saw your mama’s cute little proposal. Real heartwarmer. Big-shot fiancé, rich as hell. And that stepdaughter of his… phew. What an eye candy.”
My hands slammed on the table before I could stop them. “Don’t you ever talk about them like that!!”
The room froze.
Every head turned. A fork clinked onto a plate. I could feel eyes crawling up my spine.
Steve didn’t even blink. Just smiled wider. “Careful, boy. We wouldn’t want them videos spreading now, would we?”
I breathed hard through my nose, forcing myself not to leap across the table. I glanced around and surely I could see some phones pointed at our direction waiting to capture these moment. I took a deep breath.
Steve grinned and then turned to the other customers, voice fake-cheerful. “Nothing to see here, folks! Just a little father-son spat. Kids these days, right?”
Slowly, the diner turned back to their fries and conversations.
He leaned in then, real low. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. Otherwise, I’d rearrange that pretty face of yours. Bless your papa for pretty genes.”
I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. My throat burned with how badly I wanted to rip him apart.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” he said. “You want me gone? Fine. I won’t go near your mama. I’ll stay away from Mr. Moneybags and the Barbie doll. But it’s gonna cost you.”
He smiled, cold and clean.
“And I’m not talking scraps, Atlas. I want real money. Big-boy cash, I know you got it.”
Blackmail. Plain and simple. He wanted me to pay him off for silence: For peace. And the worst part? I knew I would.
Then he stood up, smoothed down his jacket, and gave me a little tap on the shoulder. “I’ll be expecting it,” he whispered near my ear. “Oh, and you’re handling the bill, champ.”
Then he turned to the room, flashing that used-car-salesman smile. “Y’all have a lovely night,” he called out, waving like a damn celebrity.
And then he was gone.
I didn’t move… Didn’t breathe. Not until the door shut behind him and the air in the room stopped choking me. Then I exhaled. Sharp. Ragged. My hands were shaking. God, I hated him. I hated him so much it made my chest ache.
15:16 Tue, Dec 30
Chapter 70
He always knew how to find the perfect knife…and twist it right where it hurt most.
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I had hoped the alcohol would drown it out, the ache in my chest, the mess in my head. But nope. It tasted like ashes. Bitter and pointless.
I dropped the red solo cup onto the counter, barely half-empty. The music pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat that wasn’t mine. Loud, chaotic, sweaty. One of those frat parties that Ford swore would “fix my vibe.” Whatever the hell that meant.
Honestly? I didn’t even want to be here.
But Ford talked me into it, and I needed to get out of my own head. Too bad I felt even more trapped in this
escape.
And then there was her.
Emery.
She was downstairs, laughing, her golden waves falling down her back like summer. She stood near the TV, close to the fireplace, her body swaying slightly as she danced with Howard. It wasn’t even a slow dance. Nothing inappropriate. They were just messing around, spaced out enough to keep it casual.
But I hated every second of it.
I had been down there too, trying to act normal, but my chest started tightening the moment I saw her in that soft green top that made her eyes glow. So, I left. Or more like escaped. Made my way up the stairs and leaned on the railing.
From up here, I could see her perfectly. She was glowing. She looked…happy.
And I hated that I wasn’t the reason for it.
I clenched the railing, jaw tight, fighting the urge to march down there and pull her away from him. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. So I stayed here, watching like some pathetic creep nursing a heartbreak he couldn’t talk about.
“Hey, stranger.”
I turned, snapping out of it.
Kayla.
She looked the same, red curls, sharp eyeliner, confident smile. It took me a second to remember she went to Linchester too. Somehow, I’d forgotten.
Cue the guilt.
“Kay… hey. Wow. How long’s it been?”
15:16 Tue, Dec 30
Chapter 70
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