Cristian hummed. He rested his head against the window and fell silent. They were almost back to the Scarsdale city limits before he spoke again. “Atlas, I need you to promise me something. No matter what you have to do, don’t let her near me again.”
It was the easiest promise he’d made in a long time, and that meant it was one of the most dangerous too. But still he said softly, “Okay, Cristian. Okay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Bryony Wharram haunted Atlas for days. Bea, ever observant, confronted him about it one day as they shared a late meal at Whitethorn before his shift.
“What the hell is going on?” she asked, setting down her burger. “You’ve been jumping at shadows for days. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“Something’s going on with Cristian,” Atlas told her, “and he won’t tell me how I can help.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Since the meeting, Cristian had been steadily withdrawing from everyone around him. There were no irritating text messages when Atlas was supposed to be off shift, or feeding trips to Rapture. Whatever Bryony said to Cristian, it had dug in deep and wouldn’t let go.
“You don’t help him,” Bea said seriously. “That is not your job. And that’s what this is, Atlas, a job.”
“I know,” he grumbled and reached to grab some fries from the boat they were splitting when his phone rang.
The screen flashed with a private number, but he knew who it was.
“Just a second,” he told his sister and left her office. The supply closet was the closest and most private space he could find, so he ducked inside and answered. “Atlas Kinkai
d,” doing his best to keep his voice steady.
“Mr. Kinkaid,” Bryony said, “I grew tired of waiting for you to call and make more demands of me.”
The room was too small, acrid with the scent of toner from the well-used copier, and Atlas had to swallow twice before he could croak out, “I’m not sure what kind of demands you expected me to make.”
“Oh, a desire to call off our bargain or leave your sister out of this whole sordid affair. Isn’t that what you wanted to ask me?” she asked lightly.
“Even if it was, I don’t think it would make much difference,” he said.
She gave a delighted laugh. “It wouldn’t. I’m afraid you’ve no way out of this one, Mr. Kinkaid. Decebal wouldn’t be very forgiving of the man who attempted to hand over his son to strangers. And my poor nephew has been betrayed so many times already... I think learning how deeply you hate his kind would break him entirely. He’s surprisingly fragile, especially when he gets news he doesn’t wish to hear.”
Cristian wasn’t fragile. He was stubborn and infuriating and sometimes shortsighted, but his heart was in the right place.
“He’s stronger than you think.” It slipped out on accident and Atlas winced when Bryony’s side of the line went silent.
“How curious,” she murmured after a dangerously long stretch. “I would love to learn that for myself.”
“I don’t believe that will happen.”
Like that, a new tension crackled between them. Bryony’s voice was bitingly cold as she explained, “What you believe does not matter, Mr. Kinkaid. Your belief does not make you different from any other human playing in the mud. Your life, your death, mean nothing in the tide of history. When I order you to bring me my nephew, you will. I know, because you are human, and humans are only capable of understanding fear. You will bring me Cristian because you fear the loss of your sister. Isn’t that so?”
“Don’t you dare threaten her—”
“It is not a threat. It is a fact. You tried to keep Cristian from me the other night and I let you. The next time you try to prevent me from taking what I want, I will not be as kind. You chose to work with us, and we have no intention of releasing you from that promise yet.” Her voice lifted, chiming as she asked, “Is that clear, Mr. Kinkaid?”
“Crystal,” he bit out.
“Good. I look forward to speaking with you again soon.”
She hung up and he held on to the copier until he got his legs back underneath him. He had to pull it together or Bea would come looking for him. Having an honest conversation with her was not an option.
He stuffed his phone in his pocket and ran his hands over his face, wiping away the cold sweat. No, he couldn’t talk to Bea about this, he decided as he slipped out into the main hall and headed toward her office. Not until he’d talked to Cristian first.
* * *
The chance to talk kept slipping away. They were never alone long enough, or Cristian was focused on something else, or the mood didn’t seem right. The first sign things might be returning to normal came when Cristian sent Atlas a short text nearly a week later. Rapture tonight, it read.