Susie doesn’t understand the depth of our situation. She isn’t queued in on the severity or the danger involved. Even still, her words touch something inside of me. Iaman adult, and so is Atlas.
I still have a key.
Should I be fighting harder? Should I be pushing my way inside and claiming what is rightfully mine?
Should I truly risk it all?
Risk my freedom, my safety, my happiness?
Risk.Sacrifice.
A line from the prophecy suddenly pops into my mind:wrongs must be righted, balance must be restored.
Oh, fuck. I think… I think I’ve figured it out.
“Susie, I have to go.”
I unlock the door to the delivery room and rush inside. This time, I am not sneaking around. This time, I won’t let anything stop me.
It takes me mere minutes to reach the top of the west tower, for my eyes to zero in on the silver chain locking Atlas inside. It angers me to see it, making me vicious and vile, but today it will prove useful.
I undo the chain and barge inside, leaving the door open.
Atlas looks up from where he sits on his knees next to his bed, his hands clasped together. Praying.
He’s in the same white sleep-set I saw him in last, but now it’s grimy with dirt. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen, his cheeks tear-stained.
Has he been like this for two days?!
“Julie!” Atlas cries, stumbling to his feet and running into my arms.
Once his small body is pressed to mine, a weight I wasn’t fully aware of falls from my chest. I breathe in the sweet, smoky smell of him and allow myself this one small moment.
This last, perfect moment to hold him.
But then he pulls away.
“Oh, god, your face! And how did you get in? What if they find you? Come, let’s run. We can get on a plane or rent a car; I don’t know.” Atlas starts to turn, undoubtedly to grab his things, but I stop him with my hands firmly on his shoulders.
“Atlas,” I say, and he freezes, peering up at me with wide eyes. “I know what to do now. How to save you, to break the curse.”
“What?” he whispers, his hands shaking as he grips my wrists. “What are you saying?”
“I figured it out: the prophecy.”
Atlas shakes his head, fast and hard. “Atticus thought so, too. He came up here with theBlack Bookand did, I don’t know,something, but it didn’t work. My skin is still hot, and I can still feel it—the need. The desire.” He takes a deep breath. “I think Atticus hurt himself, and I won’t let you do the same. Come on, let’s just run!”
Atlas attempts to turn again, but this time I take hold of his face, his warm cheeks resting in my palms.
“Listen to me, little bunny,” I command, and Atlas freezes once more. “Of coursewhatever Atticus did didn’t work. There needs to be a sacrifice.”
If I thought Atlas’s eyes were wide before, I was wrong. They grow twice as large, his lips trembling as he says, “Awhat?”
But I don’t have time to explain.
Instead, I lean in and push my tongue into his mouth, tasting him one last time. Atlas tries to push me away, to get free and most likely demand more answers from me, but I’m stronger.
I keep his body pressed to mine, our lips interlocked, and lick him thoroughly. I don’t care if he’s upset; this is my last chance.
