The parking lot at the community center is already packed, and people are streaming in through the doors. I’ve never seen this many people gathered for a community meeting.
When we get out of the car, Atlas stops.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, coming around to his side.
“It feels like a lifetime ago when I sat in my car, afraid to come out with the truth and disappoint my parents on their special day. It’s been a week.”
I pull him into my arms, and he places his hands on my chest, his fingers tracing circles on my shirt. “I’ve never been happier to have someone barge into the Airstream and confess their sins in my presence.”
He laughs. “I can’t believe you came looking for me.”
I shrug. “I knew someone with such a soft, mellow voice had to be sexy.”
“You didn’t know that.”
“No, I didn’t, but I knew something more important. The honesty and worry in your voice got to me more than if I’d met you through an app or across a bar. Because I got to know the real Atlas from the start.”
“Keep saying things like that and not only am I never leaving Pine Ridge, I’m never leaving your side.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” I kiss him again and then put some much-needed distance between us so we can do what we set out to do.
Inside, the community center is bursting at the seams. Chairs are filled, and people are standing along the walls, crowding the back of the room. The energy is electric—people are talking, whispering, and wondering about what has brought them here.
The mayor stands near the front of the room, and he’s not looking pleased. His jaw is clenched, his expression tight. He clearly didn’t expect this kind of turnout.
Carol finds us in the crowd and pulls us aside.
“We managed to get more than enough signatures,” she says proudly. “More than enough to make sure you can have a vote. The mayor can’t stop this now.”
Atlas’s hand finds mine, and I squeeze it gently. We’re really doing this. We’re about to take on HelixGen Corp in front of the entire town.
The mayor calls for order, and the room gradually quiets. He looks angry, but he also looks trapped. He knows what’s ahead.
“Thank you all for coming,” he says, his voice strained. “I understand there’s been a request for a community vote regarding the HelixGen Corp partnership. We have enough signatures to make this vote mandatory, so we’ll be proceeding with a vote today.”
He gestures toward the front of the room. “If anyone has information or concerns about this partnership, they’re welcome to speak.”
I look at Atlas, and he gives a tight smile. We move toward the front, ready to present our evidence. Ready to fight for Pine Ridge.
11
ATLAS
Standingat the front of the community center, I take a deep breath before I start speaking. My voice is clear and steady as I walk through the evidence—the lawsuits, the privacy violations, the pattern of exploitation in small communities across multiple states.
Kai stands beside me, and when it’s his turn, he talks about consent. About the importance of communities owning their own stories. About the danger of letting outside corporations access data that should be kept safe, not exploited.
The presentation is tight, professional, and undeniable. The room is completely silent as we speak, people hanging on every word.
When we finish, there’s a moment of stillness. Then someone starts clapping, and it spreads through the room like wildfire. People are nodding, murmuring agreement. I can see the shift in the energy—people who came in uncertain are now convinced.
The mayor looks like he’s aged ten years in the last ten minutes.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice tight. “Does anyone else have anything to add?”
A man in the back stands up, his face red with frustration. “I don’t believe this!” he shouts. “This company is offering real money. Real jobs. And you people want to throw it away because of some conspiracy theories!”
A few other heads bob in agreement, their expressions sour.
