Page 106 of When Love Found Us
Sanford glances at Cassian. Cass nods once. “We make it so they believe it. This isn’t our first rodeo.”
My fingers twitch. I rake a hand through my hair, forcing my thoughts into order. Finally, I nod once. “Fine. But Blythe stays out of it.”
“You’re going to have to leave her with Hopper,” Malerick states. “I’ll stay behind to protect them.”
I want to trust him, but can I trust him?
“I’ll defend her with my life,” he adds.
“Fine, but if anything happens to her . . . I’ll kill you,” I state.
“I wouldn’t expect less from you.” He nods. “Go tell your woman that we have to leave. The sooner we’re there, the faster you all can start moving.”
When I arriveat our apartment, Blythe is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone in her hands. Her face is blank, unreadable, but the tension in her shoulders tells me she’s already guessed something is happening.
She doesn’t look up as I step inside, but her voice is quiet. “When are you leaving?”
I cock an eyebrow. “How do you know I’m leaving?”
“Intuition,” she states. “I?—”
“You’re leaving too,” Isay.
“Why?”
“It’ll be safer if you’re at the ranch?—”
“I’m not putting Hop, Nysa, and Maddy in danger.” Her voice cuts through my words before I can finish. No hesitation. No cracks. She means it.
I exhale, crossing the room. When I crouch in front of her, resting my hands on her knees, she doesn’t look away. Her gaze locks onto mine, almost challenging.
“You have to go,” I murmur. “Stay safe. Keep our little one safe.”
Her jaw tightens. “I could help you,” she says suddenly, her fingers curling into fists. “I want to end this.”
“Babe—”
“You don’t trust me to be part of this.”
I flinch. Because it’s not true. Not exactly.
“That’s not?—”
“Yes, it is.” Her voice doesn’t rise, but there’s no softness to it. No plea. Just fact. “You still see me as the girl who ran. The girl who was afraid. But, Atlas, I’m not just running anymore. I’m fighting. And this? This is my fight, too.”
I swallow hard. I knew this was coming. I just didn’t expect it now.
“I know you’ve been working hard and that you’re strong,” I reassure her. “And I trust you.”
She exhales, slow but uneven, like she’s releasing more than just breath. Then her hand lifts, fingertips grazing my jaw before settling against my cheek.
“Then let me help.”
Blythe has spent months reclaiming her life, piece by piece. And if I try to behave like Winston did—by taking away her choices—then I’m no better than him.
I let a beat of silence stretch between us before I lower my hand to her stomach. The warmth of her skin beneath my palm, the small movement I swear I can feel, twists something deep in my chest.
“The thing is, we’re not just fighting for you,” I murmur. “We’re fighting for her. And I need to keep her safe. I trust you, but you need to think about her too.”
