Page 100 of When Love Found Us
Definitely yes.
I love the way she pushes back even when she’s afraid, the way she refuses to let fear dictate her choices. I love how she sits with her tea every morning, stirring it absently, lost in thought before she catches me watching and gives me that small, shy smile that guts me every damn time. I love how she’s strong without realizing it, how she still lets herself be soft when she trusts me enough to hold her.
Every time we’re working at the parlor, she comes up with a new idea to make the clients feel comfortable or to market the place so we can get more business. It’s not like I need more business, though, but I don’t tell her that. We need more artists, but I can’t have new employees until I know she’s safe. Still, I let her take charge of the things that seem to matter to her. I love that she’s wanting to be a part of what I’m building.
She’s stolen my heart in the quiet moments—the nights she reaches for me in her sleep, curling into my side like I’m the only thing keeping her safe. The mornings, she wakes up before me but lingers in bed, tracing invisible patterns on my chest, thinking I don’t notice. The way she teases me, making fun of how broody I am, how I always check the locks twice even though we both know no one is getting through my security.
And then there are the things she doesn’t even know she does—the way she glances at me when she’s nervous like she’s searching for reassurance, and I’m the only one who can give it to her. The way she says my name, soft and certain, like she’s testing how it feels on her tongue. Like she wants to keep saying it.
Blythe has been fighting for her freedom since the moment she ran. But somewhere in between, she’s made a home here—with me. And, fuck, I don’t know how to tell her that I don’t just want to keep her safe.
I want to keep her.
Hopefully forever.
The phone buzzes again, yanking me back to the present. Blythe exhales, shifting slightly but not pulling away entirely. I press one last kiss to her temple before I reach for the phone, my gut already tight with the certainty that this isn’t a call I can ignore.
Sanford’s name flashes on the screen.
Whatever this is—it’s not good.
But maybe he can wait. I have to ignore it and take care of her.
I can’t just abandon her when she’s like this, raw and vulnerable and needing something I can’t put into words. Not when I need her just as much.
But the phone doesn’t stop.
Blythe exhales, pulling back slightly, her fingers still entangled behind my neck. Her eyes—God, her eyes—search mine, reading the shift, knowing this isn’t just any call.
“You have to answer,” she mumbles.
I sigh and slide my finger along the screen. “This better be important.”
His voice is clipped, all business. “It’s happening.”
My pulse spikes. “What?”
Sanford exhales, and I already know I’m going to hate what comes next. “One of our decoy locations was just hit. They were looking for her, Atlas. The safe house was a front, but they tore through it anyway. Took down one of our security guys before they killed the attackers—the Hollow Syndicate was part of the operation.”
The words land in my chest and rip straight through. No warning. Just pain. Clean, brutal, fucking lethal.
Blythe must read something in my face because she tenses, her grip tightening on my wrist. “Atlas?”
I don’t look away from her, but my voice drops deadly quiet. “Where did this happen?”
“It was in Ashwood Vale. Two towns too close to you. We set it up to draw attention, but it means he’s moving faster than expected. Winston’s men aren’t just looking for leads anymore—they’re eliminating obstacles. We have to hide her and take him down—now.”
I glance at Blythe, but she already knows. She’s smart. She’s seen this play out before. She doesn’t ask if anyone made it out. She already knows the answer.
She inhales slow, bracing. But her voice doesn’t waver. “How much time do we have?”
Sanford hears her. He hesitates for half a second—long enough for me to know he’s calculating.
Finally, “Not much. Days, maybe? Less if they get wind of the Birchwood property. If they suspect she’s here, they’ll bring everything.” A pause. “I don’t think we’re ready.”
“I already am.”
“No, Atlas.” Sanford’s voice is sharper now. He knows me too well. “I mean really fucking ready. This isn’t just about protecting her anymore. It’s about finishing him. You let Winston slip through your fingers once. If he gets another chance, he’ll gut you and take her with him.”
