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Chapters (59)
  1. WHEN LOVE FOUND US
  2. Also By Claudia Burgoa
  3. IMPORTANT NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. Chapter One
  8. Chapter Two
  9. Chapter Three
  10. Chapter Four
  11. Chapter Five
  12. Chapter Six
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-One
  28. Chapter Twenty-Two
  29. Chapter Twenty-Three
  30. Chapter Twenty-Four
  31. Chapter Twenty-Five
  32. Chapter Twenty-Six
  33. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-One
  38. Chapter Thirty-Two
  39. Chapter Thirty-Three
  40. Chapter Thirty-Four
  41. Chapter Thirty-Five
  42. Chapter Thirty-Six
  43. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  44. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  45. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  46. Chapter Forty
  47. Chapter Forty-One
  48. Chapter Forty-Two
  49. Chapter Forty-Three
  50. Chapter Forty-Four
  51. Chapter Forty-Five
  52. Chapter Forty-Six
  53. Blythe’s Epilogue
  54. Atlas’s Epilogue
  55. Midnight Between Us
  56. Afterword
  57. Acknowledgments
  58. About Claudia Burgoa
  59. Also By Claudia Burgoa

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.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Atlas

After I thank Hop 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.

Our home.

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.

My Blythe. If she’ll have me—if she’ll claim me.

A slow smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, but my voice is soft when I say, “Should I be calling you Henrietta now?”