“I’m really fine,” I protest as he nudges me toward an open door at the other end of the hall. When he flips on the light switch of the sterile beige bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and let out a small shriek. My face has taken on a gray, dusty color, and there are smears of blood and dirt on my neck and ear.

Atlas digs a fluffy, turquoise-blue hand towel out from the sink cabinet and runs it under the water. “Take a seat and let me see how bad it is.”

Wincing, I remove my hat, sit on the closed lid of the toilet, and shift my hair to the side to give him a better view.

“It could be worse,” he says as he gently presses the wet cloth to the wound.

“I guess I’m lucky I have a hard head.” His fingers brush back my hair as he works on cleaning away the blood and dirt, sending a cascade of jittery bubbles through my chest.

“Sorry if that hurt,” Atlas says. “I’m trying to be careful.”

“It didn’t hurt.”

His eyes lock with mine, and the warmth inside me spreads. He runs his thumb across my cheek, then shakes his head, breaking the moment. “I think there are bandages in the medicine cabinet.”

I push to my feet and head to the sink to wash my face and arms as Atlas rummages through the small white cabinet and comes up with antiseptic spray, gauze, medical tape, and a bottle of aspirin. “Index keeps things stocked, just in case of emergency.”

I stay standing. Atlas pushes my hair out of the way again. I wince at the sting of the antiseptic spray while attempting to ignore the whisper of Atlas’s warm breath on my neck as he affixes the bandage.

“Better?” he asks, lifing my hair to cover his handiwork.

“I think so.” I turn to face him. Now that there are no medical ministrations to be done, the room feels smaller. “How about you?” I ask as I look up into the face that in a handful of days has become so familiar. “Are you okay?”

“Truth?” Atlas takes a seat on the closed toilet lid. “I don’t know.” He drops his head into his hands and takes a deep breath. “I’ve known Scarlett my entire life. She’s like family. She worked with my dad for years. I never dreamed she’d turn on him or the Stewards. Or me.”

“She doesn’t think she did.” I kneel next to him and try to put into words what I saw and feel. “She wants the truth to be protected and wasn’t willing to see there might be another way.”

His head comes up. “I want to believe he’s still out there somewhere. That he’s alive and he’s doing whatever he can to stay that way.”

I put my hands on his and hold them tight. “If he’s anything like you, he won’t give up. And we won’t give up doing whatever we can to find him.”