𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝟐

ZADE

I stand in front of the mirror, running a hand through my hair, making sure every strand is where it should be. The thought of heading back to Chicago in just two days is gnawing at me, a mix of anticipation and impatience. I've been counting down the days, hell, even the hours. But tonight, Atlas and I decided to hit the bar, and let loose one last time before we're buried in packing and prepping for the trip home.

Home. It's funny how that word doesn't mean what it used to. My original home was in Italy, with my parents. But now? Now, home is wherever Elena is. Chicago. I feel this sharp pang of longing as I think of her, how it's been too long since I've held her, heard her laugh in person rather than through a fucking phone screen.

I shake off the thoughts, focusing on getting ready. I grab a black button-down shirt, shrugging it on and rolling the sleeves up to my elbows. Simple, but it gets the job done. The shirt clings just right, showing off the muscle I've been working on. Atlas will probably give me shit for it, but whatever. The look is more for Elena, a little something to keep her in the back of my mind.

Atlas, on the other hand, is in the next room, probably cussing out his wardrobe or already halfway through a bottle of whiskey. I smirk at the thought, knowing him too well. We've both been on edge lately, business taking up most of our time, but tonight's about letting loose.

"Ready to roll, Atlas?" I call out, grabbing my watch from the dresser and strapping it on. I've been ready for a while, but I know better than to rush him.

"Give me a fucking minute, Zade!" Atlas's voice booms from the next room, followed by the sound of something—probably a shoe—hitting the wall. I chuckle under my breath. Typical.

I take one last glance in the mirror. Yeah, I'm good to go. The anticipation for tonight builds, not just for the night out, but for what comes after. Just two more days until I'm back in Chicago, back with Elena. I can't wait to see the look on her face when I show up earlier than she expects.

That thought alone is enough to make me feel lighter, more at ease.

I step out of my room, ready for whatever the night throws at us, knowing that soon enough, I'll be where I really belong.

Atlas finally emerges from his room, looking as if he's ready to tear the night apart. He's in a black leather jacket, worn jeans, and that usual smirk that says he's up to no good. He's got a bottle of whiskey in his hand, of course, taking a long swig before handing it to me.

"Let's get fucking wasted," he declares, his grin widening as I take the bottle and drink from it.

"You sure you can handle it?" I tease, knowing full well that Atlas can drink just about anyone under the table.

"Please, I was born ready," he scoffs, giving me a playful shove as we head out.

We hit the streets, the city lights glowing like a promise of trouble and fun. The bar we chose isn't too far—some place we've been to a few times before. It's dark, loud, and just the right level of seedy to guarantee we won't be bothered by anyone who knows us.

As we step inside, the music slams into us, the bass heavy and deep, shaking through the floor. Atlas heads straight for the bar, already waving down the bartender for our usual. I follow, scanning the room out of habit, taking in the crowd, the vibe. It's packed tonight—people crammed together, the air thick with the smell of booze and sweat.

Atlas passes me a glass filled with something strong. I don't ask what it is, just knock it back, letting the burn roll down my throat. We settle in at the bar, leaning back, surveying the scene like kings surveying their kingdom.

"Think I'm gonna go for a dance tonight," Atlas says, eyeing a group of women near the dance floor. They're already eyeing us back, giggling and whispering like they know who we are—or at least, they're interested enough to find out.