Page 4 of Atlas (The Chaos Demons MC #6)

Atlas

“We got it all on CCTV,” says Grizz, laughing.

I roll my eyes. “Pervs.”

“Hey, if you’re gonna fuck in the car park, it’s gonna get shown to the guys,” says Fletch.

“And you knew we were gonna see it,” states Axel, shaking his head, “cos you cleverly covered every part of her body from the cameras.”

“A gentleman even when he’s fucking her in the car park,” Fury jokes.

“All that aside,” says Axel, his tone more serious, “did you talk to her and straighten shit out?”

I shake my head. “Nah, it wasn’t the right time.”

“Brother, I’m gonna need to send you on a run,” he adds.

I shrug. “It’s fine. She don’t check in with me on the daily.”

“Only when she needs to fuck, right?” Grizz cuts in, his expression almost pitiful.

“Just send me the details,” I mutter, pushing my breakfast away. “I’ll be ready.”

Axel nods once and jerks his chin towards the hallway. “Come to the office. We’ll talk.”

I follow him, leaving the others laughing. The door clicks shut behind us, cutting off the noise. Axel sinks into his chair and eyes me for a second too long.

“What?” I ask, folding my arms.

“You look like shit.”

“Feel it too.”

He leans back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. “You sure you’re good for this run?”

I raise a brow. “You just said you needed me. Don’t start going soft.”

He smirks, but it’s brief. “This one’s not the usual. No drop-off, no guns, no threats.”

“Well, I’m already disappointed.”

Axel picks up a photo from his desk and slides it across to me.

A young woman stares back at me, her eyes too wide, makeup smudged like she’s been crying.

“Name’s Kasey. Her old man’s some biker trash out in East Anglia.

He ain’t in a club, but he’s been dealing with crews we don’t like.

Word is, she ran off. Last ping was a petrol station off the A47.

She’s got a half-sister who used to work for one of our legit fronts, and she asked for our help. ”

I frown. “You want me to track down some runaway kid?”

“I respect her sister. She was hard working, and she wouldn’t ask unless she needed help.”

I stare at the picture. “You want me to bring her back?”

“To the clubhouse, yeah. Keep her safe ‘til her sister figures out next steps.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “And why me?”

Axel fixes me with a look. “Because I trust you to protect her and not scare her off. And because you need to get your head straight.”

I scoff. “Right. Send the lovesick dumbass to babysit.”

“You said it, not me.”

I stand, pocket the photo, and start for the door.

“Oh, and Atlas?” I pause. “This girl’s been through shit. Handle her carefully.”

I nod once, jaw tight. “Always do.”

Then I leave, the image of the girl still burning behind my eyes, and something turning low in my gut.

I sit with my feet apart and my elbows resting on my knees. I glance up to find Tessa still watching me through curious eyes. “What?” I demand.

She shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. “I used to be scared of you.”

Since she got with Pit, she’s gotten brave, and working for Nita probably helped with her confidence because she has to handle shitheads like me on a daily basis. “Oh yeah?”

“But the way you look after Nita . . .” She sighs with a wistful look on her face.

“If Pit saw you looking at me like that,” I say with a smirk, and she laughs.

“I’m serious, Atlas. You have the patience of a saint, and I know that one day, she’s gonna realise just how sweet you are.”

I scoff. “Sweet? I ain’t been called that before.”

Anita’s office door swings open, and a man storms out, not bothering to look in my direction as I stand. He slams the front door as he leaves, shaking the office windows. Tessa winces. “Always a pleasure,” she mutters under her breath sarcastically.

“Who was that?” I ask, glancing back to see the man getting into a BMW.

Tessa shrugs. “He drops in every now and again. Always in that mood.” I step closer to the desk, looking down at the sign-in book. “Oh, he doesn’t bother filling that in either,” she whispers. “No appointment and no record of his name.”

I give a nod and head into the office to find Nita with her head down on the desk. “You all good?” I ask, and her head whips up.

“I told Tessa to tell you I was busy,” she snaps.

“I tried,” Tessa calls back in reply. “He said it was important.”

Nita pushes to her feet, passing me and closing her door. “What was so important you couldn’t just message me?” she demands.

“Who was the guy?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Who was the guy, Nita?”

A low, frustrated growl escapes her. “A client.”

“Liar.”

She eyes me. “It’s confidential, Atlas.”

“Must be if he doesn’t sign in or book an appointment. Can anyone just turn up?”

“You need to go. I have another client due any minute, and I don’t have time to nurse your jealous ego right now.”

“Are you fucking him?”

She tips her head back and takes a deep, calming breath. “No.”

I close the gap between us, towering over her to look her in the eye. “I’m serious, Nita. Who the fuck was he?”

There’s a flicker of fear, just like there always is if I get too close, but this time, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m too close to her life or in her face. One thing I know for sure is that guy meant something to her.

I step back, and she relaxes slightly. “I’m outta here for a while.

” She remains silent, her eyes following me as I back towards the door.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back. Axel’s got me on some rescue mission.

” I pull the door open, our eyes still connected.

“When I get back, shit’s gonna be different between us, Nita.

You’re either gonna let me in or let me go.

” Her chest rises with her sharp inhale.

The engine’s a low, constant growl beneath me. I’ve been riding for an hour, maybe more. It’s hard to keep track when all I can think about is Nita.

The wind cuts across my jaw, sharp and cold even in June. Nita’s blank expression haunts me along with her sharp intake when I delivered that ultimatum. And that sinking feel I have in my gut, knowing she’ll never let me in, and now I’ll have no choice but to walk away.

And instead of staying and making her see we could work, I’m riding out on some halfway run because I’d rather chase ghosts down the A-roads than sit at the bar pretending I’m not wrecked over a woman who won’t even admit she cares.

I roll my shoulders out and glance down at the map on my burner. The petrol station is up ahead. That’s where she was last seen.

A lorry overtakes me, rattling like it’s gonna fall apart. I twist the throttle and pass it easy, my eyes on the road, but my heart nowhere near it.

I pull into the petrol station. It’s run-down, with flickering lights and two pumps. The kind of place you only stop at if you’re running out of fuel or running from something else.

I kill the engine. The silence afterwards is deafening.

Inside, a bored-looking attendant leans on the counter, scrolling his phone. I flash the photo of Kasey.

“She been through here?”

He squints. “Yeah. Yesterday. Late. Looked strung-out, bit scared. Bought a bag of crisps and a Monster. Sat outside for a while then got picked up in some clapped-out Vauxhall.”

“Driver?”

“Guy in his twenties. Skinny. Looked sketchy as hell.”

Of course, he did.

“You see her again, call me.”

“They headed in the direction of Norwich,” he adds. “There are a lot of drugs on the streets there. She seemed the type to be looking.”

I leave my number and head back to the bike. If she’s with someone now, that complicates things. If she’s not, she’s vulnerable. Either way, she’s mine to find.

As I swing my leg over the bike, I feel it, that old hum under my skin. Not lust. Not rage. The mission. The chase.

Maybe it's good I’m doing this. Something real. Something that ain’t about Nita.

And maybe, just maybe, I can outrun the way she makes me feel before I go back and end things.

The city’s nothing like London. It’s smaller, dirtier, but the streets still pulse with life—neon signs flickering, music leaking from open doors, and bodies stumbling out of bars with too much drink and not enough sense.

The perfect place to disappear.

I park the bike then zip up my jacket and start walking. The photos in my back pocket are already worn soft from the ride.

I try the first bar. It smells like piss and sticky floors, and a couple girls at the bar are half-dressed and high. The bartender clocks me the second I walk in—patches always draw attention.

“Lookin’ for someone,” I say, sliding the photo across the bar.

He glances at it, then at me. “Maybe I’ve seen her. Maybe I haven’t.”

I flash a tight smile. “If you’re about to ask for money, don’t. I’m not in the mood.”

He snorts. “Calm down, Rambo. Yeah, she came in last night. Didn’t drink. Looked out of place.”

“She alone?”

“No. With a guy. Greasy hair, twitchy. Tried to get her to go upstairs with him. She looked like she didn’t want to, but he kept pressuring. She left before it got loud.”

Something shifts in my gut. “Where’d they go?”

He shrugs. “Try over on Brighton Street. Dive bar called Maddie’s. Real scumhole. If she’s desperate or hiding, that’s where she’ll be.”

I nod once. “Thanks.”

As I walk, I light a cigarette. There’s a thought in the back of my mind, questioning what the hell I might be walking into? Some scared kid caught up with the wrong crowd? Or bait set out by someone who wants to piss us off?

But Axel asked me to protect her. And the thing is, I know what it’s like to be young and in the dark, looking for someone to give a fuck .

Maddie’s is two streets over, wedged between a pawn shop and a tattoo place that looks like you’d leave with tetanus. I step inside, scanning the crowd.

And there, in the far corner, near the toilets, I see her.

Leaning against the wall. Arms crossed. Talking to a guy with too many rings and too much attitude.