Page 75

EVE

The world had shrunk to the steady rise and fall of Xander’s chest beneath my cheek. His fingers drifted across my back, tracing absentminded shapes—lines and loops I couldn’t follow, but that didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered except right now. For once, I wasn’t fighting to feel safe. I just was.

His arm draped over my waist, anchoring me to him, fingers curled lightly at my hip like he wasn’t ready to let go. His scent—faint embers mixed with petrichor still clung to the sheets. I could’ve stayed here forever, weightless and whole.

And then my stomach betrayed me. The loud, undignified grumble shattered the quiet, vibrating through my ribs.

I groaned, pressing my face harder against his chest. “That’s so embarrassing.”

His fingers paused, then he dipped his head, brushing a kiss against the crown of mine. “You’ve been asleep for days, Eve. It’s perfectly reasonable.”

He shifted, muscles tensing like he was about to get up—and then the door swung open. Orion strolled in, completely unbothered by the fact that we were both naked.

“Alright, sunshine, time to refuel. Can’t have you passing out from exhaustion.”

He carried a steaming bowl in one hand and a shit-eating grin on his lips. His gaze skipped right over me and cut to Xander with a pointed glance. A subtle arch of a brow.

I rolled onto my back with a groan, freeing Xander to move. He didn’t hesitate, slipping out of bed and into his pants.

Orion handed me the t-shirt from the floor, which I pulled on quickly before he took Xander’s vacant spot, pressing the bowl into my hands.

“I’m glad you both finally talked this out. You’re welcome, by the way.”

I sighed, taking the bowl.

Xander had made it to the door. His movements were brisk, methodical—already putting distance between himself and the last few hours. My gaze followed him, a frown tugging at my mouth.

“Hey,” I called after him. “You okay?”

He paused, just for a breath. Then turned slightly, not quite meeting my eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. But his voice was quiet. “Just need a minute.”

And then he was gone.

Something about it left a hollow note in my chest. The silence he left behind no longer felt like peace—it felt like retreat.

Orion nudged my knee. “Eat before I start helping you.”

I shot him a glare, but his smirk didn’t budge. My stomach decided for me, so with a small huff, I twirled the fork into the pasta.

Orion settled in beside me, his warmth bleeding through the arm he wrapped around my waist as he pressed a lazy kiss to my temple. His fingers traced idle circles on my bare thigh.

I focused on eating, trying to process everything—the past few days, Xander’s distance, Orion’s closeness. I was in uncharted waters without a guide, and no matter how hard I looked, that North Star just would not show itself to me.

I had no idea if I’d done the right thing or if I’d made the worst decision of my life.

But I felt Orion’s gaze on me. Felt the weight of it—anchoring, present.

“Are you… Okay with what happened?”

Orion blinked, surprised by the question. Then his expression softened.

“Sunshine,” he said, his voice a low hum, “I meant what I said.”

“I know, it’s just… You heard everything.”

“Every delicious sound.”

I groaned. “Orion, I’m serious—“

“And so am I,” he said, shifting so I couldn’t avoid the intensity in his gaze. His fingers continued to trace my thigh. Gentle. Assuring me even when I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

“I want you to have this. I want him to have this. And yeah, I’m not thrilled he bailed after, but I’m not going to make that your problem.”

I swallowed and pivoted. “Fine. Then explain something—how did you do that? You know, talking to me while…” I gestured vaguely at the air. “You know. Just… how?”

Orion’s eyes sparked with delight, lips curling like I’d handed him a prize.

“Astral projection, sunshine,” he tapped his temple, smug as hell. “That was just the beginning of what I can do to you.”

Heat shot through me. I shoved more food in my mouth to keep from reacting. Orion’s grin widened, perfectly aware.

My chest still felt tight. Like I hadn’t fully exhaled since he’d said he wanted this.

“So you can… read my mind? All the time?”

“Nah. It’s like a phone call—I have to tune in, and you have to pick up,” he hesitated, the teasing edge softening. “Only one Titan ever had the power to force their way in.”

The flicker in his expression tightened something in my stomach, but before I could ask, the door opened again.

Atlas filled the threshold.

My breath caught.

He looked exhausted, strain etched into every line of his face. Not just physically worn—haunted. His gaze swept over me, quick and assessing, before flattening into distance.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

I swallowed, stomach twisting. Before I could respond, he turned to Orion.

“We should talk.”

Orion straightened slightly, amusement bleeding into tension. He didn’t argue, but every inch of him radiated with distaste.

What had I missed while I was out? Was this my doing?

Atlas met my eyes again, interrupting my spiral and spinning it into surprise. “Take a shower first,” he said. A pause. “We’ll wait.”

Then he was gone. The door clicked softly shut behind him.

Orion rolled onto his side, propping his head in his hand. “Well, that was ominous.”

I scowled. “I don’t even know what to make of all this.”

He stretched, then held out a hand. “Come on. Let me take care of you first.”

We maxed out the shower’s temperature, probably draining the whole tank, but I didn’t care.

The steam curled around us, thick and heavy, drowning out everything else.

Orion didn’t rush. Didn’t speak. Just let his hands speak for him—reassuring, not claiming. His touch moved over my skin, softer than I thought possible as he rinsed away the grime, the salt, the lingering traces of death.

It felt decadent. A luxury I hadn’t realized I wanted.

Then his fingers slid into my hair, massaging my scalp as he lathered the soap. I stilled. The sensation was… strange. Not unpleasant. Just foreign.

I let my eyes close as his fingers continued, loosening strands twisted into tangles I’d ignored for too long. The rhythmic slide of his nails against my scalp unraveled something deeper—something knotted tight beneath the surface.

We probably took longer than Atlas planned, but fuck it. I’d just died—I earned this.

By the time we returned to Orion’s room, my hair had already started drying into a mess of curls. My fingers kept catching in the longer strands, twitchy with nerves I couldn’t fully explain. Orion made a low, appreciative sound as his fingers brushed mine.

“You have no reason to be nervous. Just say the word and I’ll start kicking.”

I huffed and nudged him toward his dresser, grabbing leggings from a bag of clothes I’d brought over earlier this week. But before I could move further, Orion returned with a shirt in hand and tugged it over my head.

“You could’ve let me put on a bra first!” I grumbled, laughter bubbling through my voice.

He just smiled—slow, smug, lingering long enough to make his intentions clear—then turned away to dress.

Once we were both clothed, the weight started pressing in again. Thick. Heavy. My chest tightened. Orion felt it too—he held out his hand as we approached the door, and I took it without hesitation.

The living room was quiet, but the silence was thick, almost physical. It felt like I was walking into a trial—one that had already decided just how responsible I was for the war that was now at our front door.

Atlas stood by the fireplace, shadows flickering across his face.

His black hair gleamed under the firelight, his expression carved from stone.

The memory of the first time I sat in this room stirred in my chest—when these men had shattered every truth I thought I knew.

That same tension churned now, magnified in Atlas.

Ragnar stood by the window, back to the room. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t look at anyone. Xander stood apart from the others, but his gaze had found me the second I walked in. The weight of it made something flip in my stomach.

We needed to talk.

But before I could dwell, Orion guided me forward, settling me into the armchair nearest the fire. He perched on the armrest beside me, an arm draped across the back like he was perfectly at ease.

Except… he wasn’t relaxed.

His gaze was too sharp. He wasn’t watching me. He was tracking Atlas, watching him like a predator waiting for the first sign of weakness.

Xander moved to my side like gravity was pulling him in, tension bleeding through the set of his jaw, hands twitching like he didn’t know where to put them.

I faced Atlas, straightening my spine. The whole setup felt staged, like I was being handed a live grenade after someone else had pulled the pin.

Atlas cleared his throat, and the whole room stilled.

“There’s something I haven’t told anyone.”

I glanced at the others—displeasure, confusion, a flicker of betrayal sparking across their faces. Atlas didn’t look at me.

“The day the Divide sealed,” he continued, scanning their reactions, “it wasn’t a coincidence we were on Earth.”

Silence followed. Thick. Pressing.

My mind scrambled to untangle the implications, but I was completely in the dark as always. Orion had implied that they were sent here for a reason. I’d assumed it was known, but looking at these men now, it was clear that Atlas was holding all the cards.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ragnar’s voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

Orion scoffed. “Spit it out already, brother.”

The words came laced with venom, mockery. Was this animosity my fault? Had I driven that wedge deeper?

Before Atlas could speak, Xander exhaled—sharp, cold.

“It was Columba, wasn’t it?”

Ragnar snapped toward him. “What?!”

Xander didn’t answer.

Atlas nodded. “Columba knew what was coming before you made your plans together. That there was a Phoenix on earth and that the child was the only chance we had to fix things.”

I heard the words, but they didn’t land. They scattered like shards of glass, sharp but senseless, glinting with a truth I wasn’t allowed to touch. This was their history, their reckoning—and somehow, I was the epicenter, yet still outside the blast.

The others, though… They understood.

And Ragnar exploded.

“She knew? She stayed behind? You knew—and said nothing!”

Orion threw up his hands. “It’s classic Atlas. Always making decisions for everyone else.”

“Xander, what did you do?” Ragnar spat, but I could hear the denial, the betrayal laced beneath in his words.

Xander didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just stared, frozen, as the ache carved into the lines of his face.

Atlas didn’t argue either. He just took it. The fury. The disappointment.

And I—I sat there trying to keep up, biting back the urge to scream. Questions clawed at my throat, but they weren’t mine to ask—not yet. This was their grief, their anger, and I was the ghost in the middle of it. So I stayed still, silent, burning in place.

Ragnar’s fists clenched. His magic flickered beneath his skin, veins glowing red. He was a dam on the brink.

“You better fucking explain yourself.”

Atlas shifted slightly, then his gaze locked on me, and everything else fell to the wayside. I didn’t want him looking at me like that, like he was sorry for whatever he was about to say. Like he was about to drop a bomb on everything I thought I knew, but I was powerless to stop him.

“I thought I was protecting my brothers by keeping them in the dark,” he said, like he wanted me to forgive him. Except I had no idea what I was supposed to be forgiving him for. “But I was… Wrong.”

“Atlas, I don’t understand.”

“She sent us to find you.”

His voice softened, but the weight in it was unrelenting.

“Because you’re the only one with the power to stop Pathos.”