53. Chapter 53
Atticus
The training room is quiet, but the memory of my last call with my father repeats over and over in my mind. Distracting me.
Arwen stands across from me with her eyes closed, shoulders relaxed, one hand resting against the back of a chair as she concentrates.
A month ago, she could barely maintain a mental shield for thirty seconds. Now she’s almost as good as me.
It’s not surprising. Everything about her seems impossible.
She learns fast. Once she understands the principle behind something, she absorbs it like she’s been doing it her entire life. With Arwen’s advanced learning, this lesson should be easy.
Instead, it’s me who is struggling.
“Good,” I tell her as I pace around the room. “Keep building it up, but don’t forget to reinforce what you already have in place. Keep an eye out for weak spots.”
She nods.
I watch her shield for another moment before looking away. Thoughts drift back to the contract sitting on my desk. The one my father expects me to sign.
I walk to the supply table and set down the coffee mug I’d been holding. The impact is harder than I intend. The cup rattles, and Arwen’s eyes flick open.
I pretend not to notice. “Try again,” I say.
She sighs, but closes her eyes.
For several more minutes, I attempt to continue the lesson. I correct her posture. Adjust her technique. But the entire time my attention keeps slipping to my father. I end up missing one of Arwen’s questions entirely.
“Atticus,” she snaps.
I blink out of my thoughts and look her way. “Yeah?”
Her shoulders slouch and I can feel by probing at her that her shield has dissolved.
“That’s the third time you’ve ignored me.” She looks up at me in question.
I drag a hand through my hair. “Sorry.”
Arwen studies me for a long moment before crossing the room and dropping into the chair beside mine. “Am I doing something wrong? You know you can tell me.”
The question catches me off guard. “What?”
“You seem irritated. I feel like I’m doing everything the way you’ve shown me, but maybe I’m not getting it right. If I’m messing something up, just tell me. I promise I won’t take it personally.”
Guilt punches me in the chest. I lean forward and grab her chin so I can raise her eyes to meet mine. “Arwen, I promise. This irritation has nothing to do with you.”
Her expression softens. “Then what’s wrong?”
The silence stretches as I war with myself on how to answer. I didn’t want to drag her into this or put more on her plate. Something inside me finally snaps. I slam to my feet and the movement makes Arwen jump.
Before I can think better of it, I grab the empty coffee mug off the table and hurl it across the room. It crashes into the far wall as the ceramic shatters, the sound echoing through the room.
I stare at the shattered pieces scattered across the floor, my breath coming in ragged pulls. Behind me, Arwen remains still, her shock hanging in the air between us.
“Should I leave?” she asks quietly.
Almost instantly, shame hits me and I close my eyes. I never lose control of my emotions, and now I’ve done it in front of my bond again. I feel like a feral animal. Just like I did in Greed.
Arwen hasn’t moved when I turn around. Her hands are in her lap as she just observes me. Lowering myself back into the chair, I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. “It’s my father.”
I laugh bitterly. The exhaustion of it hits me all at once.
I have spent so long performing—keeping my voice level, my expression neutral, my distance exact—that I have almost forgotten what it costs.
Months of standing close enough to reach out and touch the girl I’m falling in love with, and choosing, every single time, not to.
“My father is unhappy,” I say finally. “He says the reports from his academy contacts are disappointing. That he’s concerned I’m not making enough political connections.”
Arwen rolls her eyes.
“He also seems to think I’m not spending enough time with… other women.” The words taste like ash. Arwen’s gaze drops to the floor, her fingers tightening on the armrest.
“He sent me a contract. A marriage agreement.”
She sits up straight, attention spiking, the moment she registers what I’ve said.
“What? What do you mean, a marriage agreement?”
I force the next words out before I lose my nerve. “My father wants me engaged. To Daphne.”
The silence that follows feels endless as Arwen simply stares at me.
“He said it wouldn’t happen immediately and the actual marriage wouldn’t be until after graduation. But he wants it known publically that I intend on ignoring the bond and focusing on my esteemed duties.”
“He’s assuming I’ll sign it,” I add on.
For a long moment, Arwen doesn’t respond. When I get the courage to look at her, the hurt on her face is so obvious it nearly destroys me. As if someone reached into her chest and twisted.
The sight makes something vicious rise inside me.
This is exactly what my father wanted. To remind us both that he controls every piece on the board.
“Atticus...” she whispers.
I shake my head. “No. I’m not signing it. It’s over.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, and I move closer to her. “I don’t care what he threatens.”
I kneel in front of her chair. The words leave my mouth before I can second-guess them. “I don’t care what punishments he’ll bring down on me. I can’t do it anymore.”
Across from me, Arwen’s expression shifts from concern to confusion. “Can’t do what?”
I drag a hand through my hair. The shattered cup is still scattered across the floor between us. I look at it for a long moment.
“I can’t keep doing this.” My voice comes out lower than I intend. “Being his puppet.” I finally look up at her. “Pretending you mean nothing to me.”
The silence that follows is total.
“I’m cutting ties with my father.”
All the color drains from her face. “You can’t do that.”
The conviction in my voice catches me off guard, but the moment the words leave my mouth, they feel like truth. “It will be fine. You have power now, Arwen. The Council already took you back. I’d bet the Universe itself they wouldn’t dare try to remove you again.”
Her lips part to protest, but I continue before she can.
“And if they somehow try?” I say. “I will force every member of that Council to vote the way I want. They won’t take you again. I will protect you. Maddox will protect you.”
Arwen’s expression softens, but she shakes her head.
“What about everything you’ve worked for?
You’ve been training for this your whole life, Atticus.
Pride, the Councilor seat—” She stops, like she’s searching for the right words.
“You were born into this. I don‘t want to be the reason you walk away from all of it.”
“I’ve spent my entire life performing for him like a puppet. Every handshake, every dinner, every carefully worded answer to every carefully worded question.” I think about the contract on my desk. “And I keep thinking—what am I preserving? What is it I‘m supposed to be so afraid of losing.“
Arwen doesn’t respond.
“Because from where I’m standing, the thing I’m most afraid of losing is already right in front of me. And I keep acting like that’s the thing I’m supposed to sacrifice.”
I step closer to her.
“I’m done with that.”
The air in the room crystallizes, holds its breath for a single heartbeat.
Then Arwen is on me. The world blurs as she closes the distance between us, her fingers twisting into the fabric of my shirt, pulling me down to meet her.
Her mouth crashes against mine in a collision of months of pent-up frustration.
A ragged sound tears from my throat as I haul her against me, my hands finding her waist, her back, anything to pull her closer.
Universe, finally.
Her fingers find my hair. I cup her face in both hands and kiss her like I’ve wanted to since the day she crashed into my life and turned everything upside down. I guide her back onto the edge of the table and step into the space between her knees. My hands move back to her waist.
I kiss her slowly this time. Her hands settle on my shoulders, and I feel the slight curl of her fingers against the fabric there. I take her bottom lip between mine and hold it gently.
Eventually, I pull back just far enough to see her face. “I know this doesn‘t fix everything,” I say in a low voice. “Last year still happened. The things I did—they hurt you. I’m not asking you to forget that.”
Her eyes hold mine, waiting.
“I know trust isn’t something you just hand over.” My thumb brushes her cheekbone. “But I need you to know where I stand.”
The words come out steady and true.
Bond or no bond. Council seat or exile. My name, my inheritance—none of it means anything if it means losing you."
She just stares at me, lips parted, breathing unsteadily.
“Last year was hell for both of us,” she says softly.
“We were just trying to survive.” No bitterness in her voice.
“Then you followed me into Academy Hollow. You stood in front of the Council and fought for me. You’ve protected me and taught me.
” Her fingers lace through mine. “I hate the thought of you giving up everything you’ve built.
” Her thumb brushes my knuckles. “But I want you here with me.”
Her eyes hold mine. “I want you to be my bonded, Atticus.”
For a second, I can only stare at her. My whole life has been a checklist of expectations—pride, duty, legacy—each accomplishment just another box to tick on the way to becoming someone my family could finally approve of. Approval that never seemed to stick.
Then she says those eight words, and something in my chest cracks open.
My throat goes tight. “Arwen...” It comes out rough, unfamiliar. I shut my eyes for a beat and let my forehead rest against hers.
Fuck, this woman owns my soul.