Page 111 of When Love Found Us
I press a kiss to her temple, voice dropping to something only she can hear.
“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”
“Let’s go home, Atlas.”
ChapterForty-Two
Atlas
After I thankHop and the agents who stayed behind to guard Blythe, we say our goodbyes and drive home.
Once we step inside, I shut the door behind us.
We’re home.
Ourhome.
Not just a place to hide. Not just a temporary stop along the way.
And more than that—Blythe is finally free. The man who abused her will never try to hurt her again. Never.
Do I regret killing Winston?
That’s the thing. There was no other option. Winston wasn’t going to stop until he found her. Until he forced her back into his cage, breaking her down until she submitted—or worse until he decided she wasn’t worth the effort and ended her life for daring to defy him.
Did he deserve what he got?
There’s a long list of people who would say yes.
He wasn’t a good person.
There are plenty of young women and men who disappeared near his clubs, funneled into trafficking rings while he turned a blind eye. Others who barely escaped. Some who . . . died trying to escape.
Winston was a monster wrapped in privilege, wearing his last name like it made him untouchable. Using his connections to the syndicates as shields.
But now, he’s nothing. Just another casualty of his own bad decisions.
What matters is that Blythe isn’t running anymore. She’s free to stay in Birchwood Springs or leave if she wants. No looming threat. No need to check the locks twice, to scan exits, or to sleep with one eye open.
And yet—my body doesn’t know it.
I still feel the press of my gun and the snap of Winston’s wrist when I turned the blade on him. My muscles stay wound, my pulse still wired. It’s over, but the adrenaline won’t burn out.
I exhale and turn—really look at her.
Blythe stands in the middle of our apartment, arms wrapped around herself, watching me.
Not afraid.
Not hesitant.
Just waiting.
I wish I could shut my brain off, tell myself it’s okay. Let the moment settle in, let my body catch up to reality. But I know what would usually do it—a quick, meaningless fuck, anything to get lost in someone else for a little while.
But I don’t want that. Not anymore.
I want her.
