Page 32 of Atlas (The Chaos Demons MC #6)

The space is transformed. String lights zigzag between rusted metal beams. There’s a thick old rug on the ground and two giant beanbags with mismatched cushions in the middle.

A couple of lanterns flicker at the corners.

Someone’s dragged a little firepit up here, not lit yet, but the promise is there.

And in the centre, like it’s waiting just for me, is a crate with a coffee mug perched on top and a stack of books next to it. Old, worn paperbacks. Covers with cracked spines and creased corners. My fingers itch to grab them and examine them.

I step out slowly, my boots crunching against gravel.

“You did all this?” I ask, glancing at him. He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but he’s not fooling me. His jaw is tight, like he’s bracing for me to hate it.

“No one comes up here,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Figured you might like the quiet. And the coffee machine was a bust, so I made a fresh one the old-fashioned way. The books . . . I, uh, asked the lady at the second-hand shop for help. Told her you like the kind of stuff with messy emotions and complicated girls who think too much.” He gives an unsure laugh.

My throat tightens. I don’t know what I expected from him. But it wasn’t this .

“I like it,” I say, so quietly I’m not sure he hears me.

He nods once, like that’s enough, and starts to turn back towards the stairs.

But something in me panics at the idea of him leaving. This man, with too many sins and not enough softness, has just given me a place to breathe.

And I don’t want to breathe alone.

“You can stay,” I blurt, heat rushing to my cheeks. “If you like. I mean, you don’t have to. I just—”

He stops and looks at me. And for once, he doesn’t smirk, doesn’t joke. “I’d like that,” he says.

He comes back and sits on the other beanbag without a word. Close, but not too close.

I drag the books onto my lap. “How did you know how much I love old books?”

“I paid attention,” he says simply, and my heart swells a little more.

“One day, I’ll have a room full of books,” I say dreamily. “It’ll smell of paper and dust. And it’ll be quiet, just like up here.”

We fall silent again, and then he says, “I need to tell you I’m sorry.”

I look over, startled. He’s not looking at me.

He’s watching the skyline, his arms resting on his knees, fingers knotted like he’s holding himself together.

“I shouldn’t have started anything with you while things were still messy with Anita.

I tried to pretend it was over, but the truth is, I was still figuring it out.

And that’s not fair to you. You deserve more than someone who’s ‘figuring it out’. ”

My chest tightens. He shifts slightly, finally looking at me.

“I’m sorry I kissed her . . . twice. And that I almost slept with her.

It was wrong on both of you. I regret it so deeply, I can’t even begin to explain.

I have no excuses or reasons, but please know I’m sorry and if I could take it all back, I would. ”

“Why?” I whisper and he frowns. “Why would you take it back?”

He thinks over my words. “Because hurting you is one of the worst things I’ve ever done, and trust me, I’ve done some terrible shit.

But seeing the way you look at me now, the hurt and mistrust,” he sighs, shaking his head, “it brings me to my knees, Rue. It keeps me up at night. And the worst thing is, I can’t change it.

I can’t fucking take any of it back because the damage is done. ”

I sit very still. I can hear the wind tugging at the lights above us, the creak of the roof beneath our weight.

My fingers tighten around the spine of the top book.

“I ruined what we had for old habits and bad choices. It was a mistake, a huge one. Hurting you will be the one thing I’ll never get over. ”

Something in his voice makes my throat ache. Because he sounds . . . broken. I don’t feel like he’s angling for forgiveness, there’s just a raw emotion surrounding him right now, and it feels genuine.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says after a moment. “But I needed you to know. You didn’t imagine any of it, Rue. What was between us, it was real. And I’m sorry I wrecked it before it had a chance.”

I swallow, the burn behind my eyes building. And then he stands up and brushes his hands on his jeans. “I’ll leave you to your books.”

He turns towards the door, and something snaps inside me.

“Wait,” I say, the word out before I can stop it. “You’re just gonna dump all that on me and run?”

He freezes then turns halfway. His brow lifts a fraction, caught off guard.

“Don’t I get a chance to speak too?”

He exhales, like he’d been holding his breath. “Of course,” he says quietly, and takes a slow step back. “I just didn’t want to pressure you. Or make things worse.”

I shift the books off my lap and stand up, crossing my arms over my chest, not to be defensive, but to hold in the storm twisting inside me.

“You’re right, you have hurt me,” I say, voice steadier than I feel. “You broke something I didn’t even realise I’d handed you. And I hated you for it. Not because you kissed someone else, but because I let myself believe you were different.”

He nods, eyes on me. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to interrupt. He just listens.

“But then you did all this.” I gesture to the rooftop, the books, the lights, the effort. “And I’m not saying it fixes things. It doesn’t. But it makes me hate you a little less.”

That gets a flicker of a smile from him, barely there. “I can live with that.”

“I’m not saying I trust you again,” I add.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“But I’m not done talking to you either,” I say, softer now. “And I don’t want you to go.”

He studies me like I’m something precious, something he’s scared to touch. “I’ll stay,” he says, “if you want me to.”

I nod once. “I do.”

He lowers himself back to the beanbag, and I do the same, heart thudding a little louder than it should.

Anita

“Call off the pitbulls,” yells Damien the second I answer his call. “Or so help me, I’ll—”

I hold the phone from my ear. “Careful, you’ll give yourself a hernia yelling like that.” It feels easier to be confident when I know I’m winning the battle.

“I will drag you through that courthouse,” he screams. It’s also satisfying knowing I’m getting to him.

“You already are.”

“Is this what you want for our child?” he asks.

“I want the very best for Leo,” I state.

“And you think that’s with you?” He laughs, it’s cold and empty.

“Yes, Damien, I do. I’m his mother.”

“You’re nothing, sweetheart. A scrubber who fucks bad boys like they’re going out of fashion.”

“Remind me again how old Kasey was when you first had sex with her?” I keep my voice even, and Tom fist pumps the air with a huge grin.

I glow under his praise. “At this point, I’d like to offer you regular contact,” I say firmly.

“Agree to Leo living back with me, and I’ll be reasonable, which is more than I can say for how you’ve behaved. ”

“I’ll be speaking with your parents, Anita. Without their backing, you don’t stand a chance.”

He disconnects, leaving me staring at the phone still in my hand.

“You did great,” Tom rushes to say.

“He’s right,” I almost whisper. “What judge would give me my child if my own parents think Damien is the better option?”

He sits on the seat opposite my desk.

“Win your parents over,” says Tessa from her desk. I glance over. “You’re their daughter, remind them.”

“They hate me, Tessa. Everything I do pisses my father off.”

“What would make him happy when it comes to you?” asks Tom.

I think over his question. “If I went to work for my father’s company.”

He winces. “Well, that can’t happen.”

“Exactly. He’d also be kinder if I was to marry right.”

“Right?” he asks.

“As in not a biker,” says Tessa with a smirk.

“Or any criminal, for that matter,” I state, arching a brow in her direction. “He would only really be impressed with a lawyer or some rich guy with a golfing membership.” I laugh, shaking my head. “He’s a pompous prick.”

“I have a platinum golfing membership,” says Tom simply.

My cheeks instantly burn with embarrassment. “Oh, shit, I didn’t mean—”

“Relax, Nita,” he says with a laugh. “I’m saying, invite him to dinner and I’ll charm him.”

I frown, but Tessa jumps in before I can respond. “As her boyfriend?”

My head whips up. “Tessa,” I cry.

Tom laughs again. “Exactly.”

My eyes flick to his. “What?”

He rounds the desk, taking my hand in his and gently pulling me to stand. “Invite your parents to dinner this evening. We’ll impress them together.”

I inhale, holding my breath as I stare longingly at his lips.

His little smirk tells me he’s on to me, and then he slides my mobile into my hand.

I blink, glancing at it. “Eight o’ clock in The Ivy.

My treat.” And then he gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek before turning and marching right out of the office.

I stare after him, my mouth half-open. “Well,” says Tessa, blowing out a puff of air, “that was . . . unexpected.”

“Right?” I whisper.

“Is he serious? Is it a real date?” she asks.

I shrug because I have no idea. I thought my feelings were from confusion. I haven’t exactly been making the best choices lately. It was only the other night I tried to seduce Atlas. I groan. “He’s just being nice, right?” And I stare at her baffled expression. “Because I’m a hot mess right now.”

“Either way, this might help, and you need to get them on side before Damien tries.”

I nod, typing out a text to my father.

Me: Hi, can we have dinner this evening at the Ivy, eight?

His reply comes instantly.

Father: What’s the occasion? Premature celebrations of screwing your kid’s life up?

Me: I’d like to explain it all.

Father: Fine. See you at eight.