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“I want to say that I’m sorry for the part I played in you getting here.”

“If you’re truly sorry, then say goodbye to my wife, walk out of her life, and never come back. You want to apologize to me the right way, that’s the way to do it.”

“I might have another way,” he said.

Atlas felt his diaphragm lift, flooding his pectoral muscles with blood. He rolled his shoulders forward slightly, his traps bulging. The hand that gripped the phone…he wanted to use that hand and that phone to destroy Rocco’s pretty face. Instead, he tried forcing a smile. The look that emerged, however, was insincere and cruel and it had the opposite effect on the man who had taken Jade from him.

“Show me how creative you can be, Rocky.”

“It’s Rocco,” he said.

“It’s whatever I say it is,” Atlas hissed. “Now speak your mind before my time expires.”

“I want to make an honest woman of her.”

“She was honest until she wasn’t,” Atlas said. “You can’t take that back no matter what you do. And if she cheated on me to be with you, then she’ll cheat on—”

“I mean to say—”

“I know what you mean to say.” The anger stewing inside of him became blistering hot and aggressive. Leaning forward in a purposefully hostile stance, he said, “You want me to sign the divorce papers, then give you my permission to marry her, is that it? Well, I have news for you, pal, I’m not her daddy, which means you don’t need my permission.”

“You took the wind out of my sails,” Rocco said, cautiously flipping his hair back out of his eyes.

Atlas pulled back and sat up straight. “Poor little Rocco,” Atlas said, less aggressive, but deadpan in his delivery.

“I think that when you two are officially finished, Jade and I can proceed forward with a new life together, all ties of her former life severed. She needs a second chance at happiness, Atlas. She won’t find it from you.”

“There’s one tie you can’t quite sever,” Atlas said, the bomb about to blow.

“What’s that?” Rocco asked.

Atlas shot up and slapped the flat of his hand on the Plexiglas partition so hard, Rocco practically jumped out of his chair.

“Our daughter, you son of a bitch!”

“Atlas, SIT DOWN!” the guard roared, pulling out the stun gun.

Atlas’s face was beet red with veins pulsing everywhere and his muscles were pulled so taut it was a wonder none of them tore in half. He sat back down and started doing his breathing exercises, the ones he used when he went from zero to psycho in one second flat.

Smoothing his hair back in place, straightening his prison blues, he calmed himself and then picked up the phone again.

Rocco looked taken aback by the outburst, as well he should be. The man had never known Alabama and yet he dismissed her like a piece of shared property between Atlas and Jade—a piece of property that simply got stolen or lost.

“Sit down,” Atlas told Rocco, mouthing the words through the Plexiglas. Rocco’s handset was lying on the table between them. Using hand gestures to direct Rocco to his chair, Atlas pointed at the receiver and said, “Pick up the damn phone.”

Rocco finally sat down and picked up the phone.

“I will agree to this on one condition,” Atlas said.

“I’m listening,” Rocco replied.

“If you ever hurt Jade in any way that scars her—I’m talking about cheating, lying, verbal abuse, physical abuse, drugs, or pornography—I will personally rip your heart out of your chest and shit in the hole I leave behind.”

“That’s a wonderful visual,” Rocco said. For some reason, he stifled a yawn and then managed to look embarrassed about it.

“Am I boring you?” Atlas asked.

“Sorry, late night.”

“Well, your perm still looks fresh.”

“I told you, it’s natural.”

“Sure it is.”

The two men looked at each other for a brief moment then Atlas said, “Put my wife back on the phone.”

Rocco got up and left without saying goodbye.

Jade stood as well, ran her hands over his arms in a soothing, supportive gesture, one that said she understood completely. That Rocco got this kind of nurturing sickened Atlas. Rocco wasn’t a kid. He was a grown-ass adult.

She returned with the divorce documents. “I’m leaving them with the guard. Look them over and then sign them.”

“Are you and GQ getting married?”

“I’m just trying to open up my options, Atlas,” she said in Russian.

He wanted to talk to her, but what could he say? That she was ending him? That he looked like hell because he was nothing but a soulless monster locked in a cage for the rest of his life? No, she wouldn’t listen to any of that. She just wouldn’t care.

“I was so in love with you once,” Atlas finally said. “It consumed me to the point that I could barely breathe when I looked at you. I remember that feeling. It’s the first good emotion I’ve had in years.”

“And how do you feel now?” she asked, still speaking Russian.

“I feel like I want to break everything I see. I want to crush it and destroy it, but not so that I can ruin anything else. Lord knows I’ve done enough of that already. It’s because I need to get all of this hate out of me.”

She looked away at first, and then she looked down. He watched her eyes fill with tears. Discreetly, she wiped away the pain. Still looking down, still speaking in Russian, she said, “I was in love with you, too. There was no part of me that was not yours forever.”

“If I get out of here someday—” he started to say.

“You won’t.”

“Yes, but if I do?”

She looked up, the shine now out of her eyes completely. “You’re in here for three life sentences, Atlas. What makes you

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