26. Chapter 26
Atticus
The ride through my home city in Pride should have felt familiar.
Instead, every polished gate and manicured hedge beyond the limo’s tinted windows only sharpened the sense that I’d returned to a world that no longer fit.
The city rolled past in immaculate symmetry—winding roads lined with towering elms, sprawling estates tucked behind wrought-iron gates, marble fountains glittering in the afternoon light. Wealth here was not merely owned. It was displayed. Curated. Worshipped.
If your neighbor has a greener lawn, you suffer shame. If your colleague gets an art piece, you had better open your wallet for one too.
Every inch of territory exists to remind the people of Pride who sits at the top. Who has the most. The best.
It used to please me, taking in these minute details and comparing them to my own. Now I couldn’t care less.
My thoughts remain in Gluttony. Inside that infernal hotel that Councilor West calls home.
They remain on her just as they have since the moment I left.
I stare out the window, jaw tight, and picture Arwen in Maddox’s room—safe, yes, but close enough to him that the thought makes something ugly twist beneath my ribs.
Her safety should be enough. It’s not.
Every fiber of the pride nature that has been drilled into me since birth is screaming that I should have her on my arm instead. She should be mine.
Safe with Maddox means protected by him. Comforted by him. Sleeping under his roof. Laughing at his jokes.
My hand tightens against my knee. I have no right to be this jealous. I spent months keeping her at arm’s length.
Still, the jealousy remains sharp all the same.
The car slows as my family estate rises into view beyond the gates.
It’s an absurd monument of white stone and old money perched atop rolling green hills.
Pillars frame the front drive. Ivy climbs imported limestone.
Water glitters in the enormous reflecting pools flanking the staircase to the giant front doors.
The largest estate in Pride, as it has always been, as it should be. I have spent my entire life proud of that fact. Standing here now, I find I cannot locate that gratification anywhere within me.
The gates open before the car has stopped.
By the time I step onto the front drive, the front doors are flying open.
“Atticus!”
My mother rushes down the steps with all the grace and composure of a woman who has quite forgotten she is meant to possess both. Her arms wrap around me before I can brace for it, silk sleeves brushing against my dirt-stained jacket.
“Oh, thank the universe,” she breathes, voice breaking.
I can’t help but beam at her. My mother has always been my comfort in this world.
“Mother—”
She pulls back only enough to cup my face in trembling hands. “Are you hurt? They said you were sent to the Wastes, that no one had heard from you, and then…”
“Francine.” My father’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade as the smile falls from my face.
He descends the front steps at a measured pace, suit immaculate, expression carved from stone.
“Compose yourself,” he says. “You are embarrassing the household.”
My mother’s hands drop at once, as does her head in submission. Father’s eyes settle on me, face a storm of fury.
“My office. Now.” No greeting or relief at my safety.
I lift my mother’s chin and give her one last small smile before following him inside.
As always, his office smells of smoke and mahogany. He seats himself behind the desk and lights a cigar without asking me to sit.
“Well?” he says.
I stand straight despite the lingering ache in my body.
“Councilor Blaise orchestrated our capture,” I say. “The exile was a fabrication. We never reached the Wastes.”
His expression sharpens as I continue.
“He intercepted us in transit, imprisoned us beneath Greed territory, and restrained my abilities with suppressor cuffs. Arwen and I were held captive for over a month while he performed experiments on her like a lab rat.”
No response.
The words come out harder. “Daily torture. Interrogation. Forced power testing. He wanted to draw out whatever ability makes her valuable enough to steal from the Council.”
My father steeples his fingers. “And was he successful?”
My pulse kicks once as I hold his stare. “No.”
A lie, of course. The longer I can keep Arwen’s power under the radar, the less she is a threat or a target for him. His gaze remains on mine for so long I wonder if he hears the falsehood in my heartbeat.
“That’s disappointing,” he murmurs, clearly upset, although I don’t know why he would be. He wanted her gone.
I stay silent as he continues.
“The Council will not tolerate this. Marcus Blaise defies a unanimous vote, abducts a resource the council exiled for private exploitation, and concealed a potential asset from the governing body.” His fingers tap once against the desk.
“Even his allies will balk at such blatant overreach.”
He rises from his desk and buttons his suit jacket.
“I will call an emergency Council session immediately. If Blaise appears, we will detain him. If not…” His eyes darken. “We will begin discussions on how to handle the line of succession.”
His gaze turns back to me.
“And you,” he says, voice sharp, “have behaved like a fool.”
I knew he would berate me for my actions at Arwen’s trial…
“You followed a condemned girl into exile in front of the Dean and every faction leader in Vail.” His lip curls. “You made this house appear weak. You’re emotional and undisciplined.”
I lock my jaw tight to prevent an outburst. The urge is strong to snap back that I followed my bond and not a condemned girl.
“If you had a brother,” he says coolly, “I would reconsider your status as heir.”
My restraint breaks. “I did that because Arwen is my bond and needed to be protected. You know this.”
He stills at my words. He doesn’t care about Arwen, but maybe…
“If she is harmed, it affects me,” I say. “Distance weakens the connection. Instability in the bond creates vulnerabilities. You have always taught me not to allow weaknesses where they can be avoided.”
A partial truth.
His eyes narrow. “So you're saying your concern for her is practical? You do not care for the girl personally?”
“No.” The lie comes easier this time. I have to protect her.
The lie comes easier this time.
Father stays silent for a long moment… and then smiles. A slow, cold thing.
“How interesting…” he says lightly, “given that you have already lied to me once today.”
Ice slides down my spine. Of course he’s already several moves ahead. He wouldn’t be the Councilor of this bloodthirsty faction if not.
He rounds the desk and goes toe to toe with me, face in front of mine.
“Councilor West sent word this morning,” he says. “Apparently your little bond displayed quite a spectacle in Gluttony. Destroyed part of the grand hall, I’m told.”
My breath catches. “Is she hurt?” The question escapes before I can stop it.
And there it is. My mistake.
My father’s smile sharpens with triumph.
“Ah,” he says softly. “I’m sure you're merely curious… for practical reasons.”
Damn it.
“She is unharmed,” he says, savoring every second of my silence. “And far more dangerous than you wished me to know.”
He turns away, hands clasped behind his back.
“Truthfully, it may be advantageous to return her to SinVail. I’m sure that’s why you came here. To ask me to remove her exile. She’s obviously not safe in the pit of Gluttony. Correct?”
I’m sure he has no intention of sending her back there now. I played my move, and I lost. My mind is on overdrive trying to come up with another solution.
He continues. “Logically, it’s better she remains where she can be observed than hidden away in Gluttony… or worse, driven into the Wastes where someone else might claim her.”
Hope sparks in my chest—
Then dies just as fast.
“However,” he continues, “it is clear this girl has compromised your judgment. You have become reckless. Emotional. Defiant.” He turns back toward me. “She is making you weak.”
“She has not—”
“She has turned my heir into a liability,” he states firm, cutting me off.
“And if that continues, perhaps the wisest course would be to remove the problem entirely.”
Fury hits so hard my vision flashes white at his threat, and all of my control drops.
“If you touch her…” My voice comes low. Dangerous. “I will burn Pride to the ground. You won’t need an heir because there will be nothing. Nothing left to rule over.”
Silence.
“Well,” he says, “your childish outburst just proves my point.”
I stand frozen, chest heaving as he regards me like an interesting chess piece.
“Despite your emotional threats, I am willing to compromise. I will allow her to return to SinVail Academy.”
My eyes fly to his in surprise.
“Now that news of her power is out, her exile won’t be difficult to overturn….” His gaze pins me in place. “On one condition. You will stay away from her.”
My breath hitches as if the air has turned to stone. A cold void opens in my chest, and my tongue feels like sand against the roof of my mouth.
“You will interact only when absolutely necessary. You will not pursue her or court her. And you will not complete the bond.” His expression hardens. “And if I hear otherwise, this arrangement ends… and so does she.”
My mind is reeling, processing the words. It will be just like before. The same as last year’s torture. Watching her from across the room, pretending indifference to everyone.
Keeping distance while every instinct screams otherwise.
My father studies my face. “Well?”
Arwen’s face flashes in my mind. She’s safe for now. But Gluttony is not stable. I know firsthand the horrors of the Mafia family.
She must go back to the academy. Even if it means losing the right to stand beside her. Her safety has to come first.
“…I agree.” The words scrape on the way out.
Father nods once, satisfied. “Good. Then perhaps there is hope for you yet.”
I can barely hear him over my misery. Because all I can think is that I have just traded the thing I want most for the only way I know to keep her alive.