ATLAS' POV.
Sleep didn't come easily—no surprise there.
Every time I closed my eyes, my mind felt too loud—memories and thoughts scraping against each other until I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn’t.
But eventually, exhaustion won.
And then I found myself falling.
A thick, heavy darkness twisted around me, pulling me into the one place I never wanted to return to—
that night.
The night of the attack.
The dream isn’t clear. It comes in flashes, sharp and broken pieces, like shattered glass cutting through my skull.
Screams.
The metallic scent of blood heavy in the air.
The screech of tires—metal crashing into metal—
A car spinning out of control, headlights bursting into pieces before everything turns black.
Smoke burns my throat as I crawl across the ground, my finge
