chapter201

His clothes were already discarded, his weight pressing down on me with a suffocating, heavy heat. I fought back with every ounce of strength I had left—biting, kicking, and screaming into the empty air for help. Matthew looked like a crazed predator, a chilling, jagged laugh escaping his lips as he pinned me down.

“You were never like this before, Chloe! Weren’t you the one who supposedly loved me more than anything? Well, today, I’ll make sure you enjoy it just as much as you used to! Haha!”

“Let go of me, Matthew!” My voice was thick with despair. A wave of violent nausea overwhelmed me; I would have rather died in that moment than feel his skin touch mine.

He struck me again, a heavy blow that made the world tilt and spin into a blur of gray.

“You just don’t know what’s good for you,” he hissed, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly tender whisper. “I’ll love you just like I used to. Chlo, I don’t want it to be like this either. I don’t want to hurt you. But after being apart for so long, I’ve missed you terribly. I just want to be with you!”

CRASH!

A booming sound shattered the air as the door was kicked off its hinges. I found a final surge of energy and yelled, “Help me! Please, get him off me!”

The instinct to survive turned my struggle into a frenzy. Suddenly, the crushing weight was gone. I heard a sickening, muffled thud followed by a roar of pure, unadulterated fury.

“How dare you lay a finger on her?!”

It was Atlas. His voice cut through the chaos like a blade. I scrambled toward the edge of the bed, grabbing a dusty, discarded blanket and wrapping it tightly around my trembling frame. Through my sobs, I watched as Atlas rained down a relentless sequence of blows, each punch accompanied by Matthew’s agonizing wails.

I buried my face in the fabric, feeling utterly humiliated and violated. The pain in my heart was a physical ache. This man, Matthew, had already trampled over the best years of my life, and even now, I couldn't seem to escape his shadow.

Matthew’s cries grew weaker until they were nothing more than a wet wheeze. I forced myself to speak, my voice a broken whisper. “Atlas... stop!”

I was terrified he would beat Matthew to death. Matthew wasn't worth the years Atlas would spend in prison for him.

Atlas froze and looked at me. His once-handsome face was a mask of dark, murderous intent—he looked like a vengeful spirit emerging from the depths of hell. His narrow, profound eyes gleamed with an icy, terrifying chill. When Matthew tried to stir, Atlas delivered one final, brutal kick to his ribs, and Matthew slumped into unconsciousness.

Atlas immediately stripped off his overcoat and wrapped it around me, pulling me into his firm, steady embrace. As he gently wiped the blood from beneath my nose, I completely broke down.

“I want to go home,” I whispered through gritted teeth, my voice barely intelligible.

He lifted me without a word, carrying me down the narrow stairs. In the cramped, dimly lit living room, a crowd had gathered in the shadows.

“Dylan! Clean this up!” Atlas barked an order. As he carried me out, I heard the heavy sound of doors closing behind us, sealing the scene away.

I closed my eyes. I knew then that I could never, ever return to this place.

When we reached the Amethyst Apartments, Atlas carried me straight to the bathroom. He placed me gently by the door, his voice soft and grounding. “Go, wash up. I’ll be right outside.”

I nodded numbly, watching him turn away. I stood under the shower for what felt like hours, letting the hot water try to scrub away the phantom touch of Matthew’s hands. When I finally emerged, Atlas was waiting with a bag of ice.

He guided me to the sofa and gently applied the cold compress to my swollen face. “Does it still hurt?” he asked softly.

I remained silent. The anger I had felt toward him earlier had vanished the moment he burst through that door, but in its place was a hollow, unspoken despair. I was grateful he had rescued me, but a dark thought plagued me: How much longer can he keep protecting me from my own life?

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” I looked up and saw a rare trace of genuine guilt and regret in his eyes.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, the silence stretching between us. I truly didn't know what to say.

“Are you angry with me?” he pressed, his gaze full of restraint. “I never should have left you alone today.”

“You’ve already done so much,” I said, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. “I have no reason to be angry with you. But you should go back now. I need to go and pick up my daughter.”

“I’m staying,” Atlas said, his tone gentle but immovable. His gaze was filled with a fierce reluctance to let me out of his sight. “I’m not leaving you tonight.”