Page 70 of Atlas

Our eyes lock. I plead with him silently to just sit down and stay still and quiet and not draw attention to himself. I couldn’t bear it if Phil hurt him in any way, especially because all I’ve done is antagonize him.

Atlas lets the chair drop back to the floor. He pretty much collapses into it, but his eyes stay feral, glaring at Phil with all the black hate in the world. I hope that all he does is stare. Atlas can’t rush him. He can’t try and tackle him. He could getseriously hurt if he does that, or Phil might just straight up shoot him.

My life would be over if that happened.

I can’t live in this word if Atlas isn’t in it.

“Get the poker from the set of tools behind the stove,” Phil commands. “Open the door and stick it in. Heat it until it’s good and hot.”

I follow orders, moving as slowly as possible. I know he’s got the gun on me. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to take a chance that I’d use the poker on him. I can see myself doing it, even as I take it from the rack and plunge it deep in the fire. I can practically see myself pulling it out and bringing it crashing down on Phil’s arm, knocking the gun to the floor.

Could it go off and kill someone then?

What if I smashed him in the face?

The gun could still go off and shoot someone. And then I’d probably go to jail for murder, because taking a poker to the face is serious business.

The hand then.

It’s the only chance that we have right now. If Phil wants me to heat this damn thing, then he’s obviously got something sinister in mind.

Agatha moans from over by the couch again. Is she seriously hurt? If Phil’s not afraid to do that to his own mother, then what the fuck is he willing to do with us? I bite down on my lower lip, sawing my teeth in until I taste blood.

“Don’t think about doing something stupid, girl,” Phil cautions. “Although, you’ve already been plenty dumb. You thought you could lie to me and play me. If it’s going to take some encouragement to help you find your tongue, then so be it.”

My hand grasps the poker until my knuckles go white and I barely have any feeling in my fingers. I can’t stop seeing myself smashing it into Phil’s face. I wouldn’t have to do it hard. Just enough to stun him.

And then what?

Hit the gun out of his hand? Kick it across the room? Run for it? Hit him again, hard enough to knock him out, but not kill him? How hard should one exactly hit someone else with a blunt force object to maim and cause mayhem but not murder them?

“You’re going to pull that poker out of the fire and turn around real fucking slow, or you get a bullet straight between your shoulder blades. Maybe I’ll miss and hit you in the ass and you’ll get lucky. Then again, maybe I’ll fuck up and hit you higher, right in the back of your skull.”

I close my eyes, refusing to give in to the fear. I need adrenaline right now. I need to dig deep into that and let it give me a ferocious kind of strength that I wouldn’t normally have.

I get the poker out, shut the door, and pivot around. Phildoeshave the gun pointed right at me. A sinister smile spreads over his face like grease on water.

“Good. Walk over to your boyfriend there and put that hot end right onto his face.”

My heart lurches and slams into overdrive, beating painfully fast. It’s like that second where you realize that younarrowly avoided dying and you get those cold chills while your heart is hammering ten times faster than it should be. Everything is so much clearer. The distance between myself and Phil. Atlas’ pained expression. Agatha lying face down, her soft moans creeping up into the quiet.

“He can’t tell you anything because he doesn’t know anything, but even if he did, he’s bound by an oath to his club. He would never betray them.” I try one last time to appeal to Phil’s rational side.

“Never is a big word,” he shoots back, sneering. Right. He doesn’thavea rational side. “He might be bound by some misplaced sense of honor, but you aren’t. Let’s see how much he treasuresyourface.”

“Willa! No!” Atlas shakes his head so hard that the whole chair vibrates beneath him.

“You don’t think a man who looks like him would want a woman like you with a fucked up face, do you?”

“Stop it. Please,” I plead. “This isn’t going to get you anywhere. If it’s money you want, the club could get it for you. You don’t have to torture us. We’ve told you everything we know.”

His eyes cloud over. There’s something wrong with them, something black and evil swimming in their depths. “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Either way, someone gets their face fucked up because you owe me my money and it’s only through your colossal stupidity that I’m even here.”

I make the decision right there. I turn the poker in my hand, forcing the tip upward. It’s no longer glowing cherry red, but it’s still brutally hot. “Me then. I was the one who wanted thetrunk. I didn’t know what was in it and we tried to do the right thing, but I’m the one who’s responsible for taking it.”

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Atlas screams. He thrashes in his chair, but stills when Phil whips the gun over at him. “Willa!”

Phil throws back his head and laughs. “No. Not you.” He motions with the gun at Atlas. “Him. Because now I knowthatwill hurt you far worse than if you took that scar for him.”

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