19

The cavern was still now, the silence deafening after the violent crescendo of the battle. The acrid smell of burnt metal clung to the air, mingling with dust and faint traces of smoke. Zara could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, an uneven drumbeat to match the chaos still whirling inside her.

“Atlas,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she knelt beside him.

He was slumped against the stone wall, his massive frame battered and torn. The glow of his silver-blue eyes had dimmed to a faint flicker, their light barely illuminating his face. His synthetic skin was ripped in too many places to count, jagged seams revealing the intricate metal skeleton beneath. Sparks occasionally hissed from his shoulder joint, and a faint hum—slower, uneven—emanated from his chest.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and the hollow terror clawed at her ribs. She reached out, her trembling fingers brushing against his jaw. The cool synthetic surface was streaked with grime and damage, but it was still him.

“Atlas, wake up,” she said, louder this time, her voice tight.

His eyelids flickered. Slowly, he turned his head toward her, the faint light of his gaze settling on her face. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make her chest tighten with relief.

“You’re still here,” she whispered, her voice shaking as tears burned at the edges of her eyes.

His lips twitched faintly, as if he meant to smile. “I told you,” he said softly, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard it. “I would be.”

Zara let out a shaky breath, brushing her thumb gently over the edge of his jaw. The synthetic texture beneath her touch felt real—smooth and warm where it shouldn’t have been. And yet, it was a comfort.

“You’re hurt,” she said, her voice trembling as she looked over him, taking in every torn seam, every flicker of sparks. “You need to shut down. You need—”

“No,” Atlas interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Zara’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

His eyes—still flickering like a dying star—locked onto hers. “I will not leave you vulnerable.”

Her heart clenched at the quiet resolve in his voice. “Atlas, you’re falling apart,” she said, the words a plea. “You can’t keep going like this.”

“I can,” he said softly, though his voice trembled faintly. His right hand lifted—slowly, as if the movement cost him—and brushed against her cheek. His touch was tentative, careful, as though he feared breaking her. “As long as you are safe, I can endure.”

Her breath hitched, tears spilling down her cheeks as she shook her head. “Stop saying that,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Stop acting like your life doesn’t matter.”

His glowing eyes softened, the light flickering faintly. “It matters,” he said quietly. “Because it keeps you alive.”

Zara’s chest ached at the sincerity in his voice, the quiet truth that weighed on her like a stone. “You don’t get to decide that,” she said, her voice shaking. “Not without me.”

His gaze searched hers for a long moment, as though trying to understand something beyond his reach. Finally, he spoke, his voice even softer now. “I choose this, Zara.”

Her throat tightened, a sob catching as she cupped his face in both hands. “And I choose you,” she whispered fiercely. “So you can’t break. You can’t... leave me.”

For a moment, the silence hung heavy between them. Atlas stared at her, his silver-blue eyes reflecting the dim light of the cavern. His lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but no words came.

Instead, he leaned forward—just enough that his forehead brushed against hers. The faint hum of his systems reverberated beneath his skin, a steady pulse that felt almost like a heartbeat. Zara closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely as she breathed him in—the scent of metal and energy and something indefinably Atlas.

“Please,” she whispered. “Let me help you.”

Atlas remained still for a long time, his form tense even as he rested against the wall. Zara stayed beside him, refusing to move even as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Her hands hovered over his wounds, helpless as she tried to figure out what to do.

“Your systems,” she said softly, trying to keep the panic from creeping into her voice. “You’re running on backup power, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted after a beat, his voice weak. “Primary systems are compromised.”

Her stomach dropped. “How do I fix it? There has to be a way—there has to—”

“Zara,” he interrupted gently, his silver-blue eyes flickering as they focused on her. “You can’t fix me.”

“Yes, I can,” she said stubbornly, blinking back tears as she gripped his hand—the only part of him that felt steady now. “You’re not allowed to say things like that. I don’t care if you’re a machine. You matter.”

His fingers curled faintly around hers, a small movement that made her heart stutter. “You feel too much,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And you feel too little,” she countered, her voice cracking.

Atlas’s eyes searched hers for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said quietly, “That’s not true.”

The confession stole the air from her lungs.

“I do feel,” he admitted, his gaze holding hers. “More than I should. More than I was ever meant to.”

Zara’s throat tightened, and her chest ached in a way she didn’t have words for. “Then why do you keep acting like you don’t?”

His gaze softened. “Because it makes this easier.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

A silence stretched between them, so heavy she thought it might crush her. Atlas tilted his head, as if weighing her words carefully. Then, slowly, his good hand reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

“I don’t know how to be anything else,” he said softly. “But when I am with you... I want to try.”

Zara blinked, tears streaming down her face as his words settled over her like a whisper. She leaned closer, pressing her forehead to his once more.

“Then try,” she whispered. “Please. Try for me.”

His glowing eyes flickered, the faintest shimmer of something soft and raw reflected in their depths. “I’ll try,” he said.

Her heart twisted painfully as she held onto him, her hands trembling against his damaged frame. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

The distant sound of Torrak engines began to hum again, breaking the fragile quiet. Zara froze, her blood running cold as the echoes grew louder, closer.

Atlas’s gaze sharpened immediately, his body tensing despite the damage. “They’re regrouping,” he said, his voice steadier now. “They won’t stop.”

Zara stood quickly, her rifle in hand as she scanned the dark cavern. “Then we move,” she said, her voice firm despite the fear curling in her chest. “Together.”

Atlas pushed himself upright with visible effort, sparks flashing from his shoulder as he steadied himself. He looked at her, his gaze burning brighter now, stronger despite everything.

“Together,” he agreed.