Page 6 of Queen of The Reapers
“What is this sick fascination with ordering me around?” I ask, glaring up at Atlas with my arms wrapped across my chest. “You can’t just tell me to jump and expect me to ask how high. That’s not how a relationship works.”
There, I said it. The thought that’s been weighing on my mind ever since we gave this thing between us a real go. Our relationship has changed, but the way he and his brothers treat me hasn’t. They can’t keep treating me like their property and expect me just to roll over and take it.
“That’s how we work.” Tristan interjects, stepping next to Atlas. “Especially when it’s f… for your own good.”
“But Alex—” I protest.
“Alex can wait.” Cyrus asserts, flanking his twin’s side.
They’re forming a stupid fucking blockade, and all I want to do is thrash against it. I look towards Ezra, the only one not caging me like an animal. He’s just as angry, but he has to back me on this. Someone has to.
“Ez?” I ask, putting him on the spot.
Ezra smiles before answering me, and my hope blossoms.I knew he’d pull through for me.
“We either take you willingly,” he says, dropping his smile as cruelty seeps into his voice, “or unwillingly. Either way, you’re coming with us.” The hope I held on to splinters into a million pieces.
Why am I even trying to reason with them?These aren't rational men who are going to sit here and hear me out. They’re going to do what they want and when they want, and fighting them will only make things worse. The best thing I can do right now is stay in their good graces and hope they give me another chance to come back for Al. But when have I ever done what’s best for me?
Instead of arguing, I do the only thing I can do. The only thing that sits right in my gut.I run.
I cut around Ezra and gun it for the front office. It’s stupid. It’s the dumbest decision I can make, but I’m in fight-or-flight mode and, well, I’m choosing flight.
As soon as they realize I’m running, the four of them immediately split into two groups with military precision. Tris and Cy cut around the back of the building while Atlas and Ezra chase me as I weave through the parking lot.
“Stevie, stop!” Atlas yells, his powerful voice sounding farther away than I expect.
A smug smile forms on my lips.Looks like I’m going to make it to the front desk after all.
“No.” I call out, glancing behind me to find him and Ezra scowling a good twenty feet away.
They look pissed, but they’ll get over it. I’ll make up for everything after I get my answers.
“Goddamnit,” Atlas curses, “stop!”
He sounds angry, more angry than he’s ever sounded before and that’s saying something. But I can’t bring myself to stop now, even if I wanted to. Besides, as it stands now, I’m already in deep shit for running. If I make it to the office, at least I’ll be able to leave with a lead and a bit of dignity.
“Angel!” Ezra yells with such urgency it terrifies me. Ezra may be the craziest of them all, but he never yells. He’s always teetering on the thin line between cool and detached, but not once has he ever yelled at me. I whip my head in their direction so fast that for a second, my head spins.
“Watch out!” Atlas barks, gesturing at whatever is in front of me.
My brain understands his message a split-second too late. Just as I turn to look ahead of me, my bare foot clips a cement wheel stop and the force of the impact sends my body crashing into the rough asphalt.
My bare knees and palms break most of my fall before my body rolls to an excruciating stop behind a rusty white van. The pain shooting up and down my body is mind-numbing, but from what I can tell, nothing is broken.
Tears sting in my eyes as a mixture of pain and embarrassment hits me hard.Why the fuck did I run?
Atlas’ strong arms lift me into his chest and I try to fight him off. The last thing I want is his fucking pity. Not now and especially not this way.
“Get the fuck off of me!” I cry, flailing my fists at his chest.
Ignoring my weak demands, Atlas walks us back to the SUV in silence. He gently places me into the backseat and buckles me in with his face void of emotion. Ever so calmly, he grabs a tiny bottle from the glove-box and shakes two pills into the palm of his hand and hands them to me.
“Take them.” He says through clenched teeth.
There's no point in resisting anymore, and I pop them back without protest. As the dry pills slide down my throat, the fight within me flickers out. I’m not getting Alex back tonight, and after what I just pulled, I may never get to see her again.
Good job, Dumbass.
