Chapter 28
Thou Shalt Not Catch Feelings When Breadsticks Are Involved.
Arwen
Usually, they don’t allow freshmen off campus. The rules are clear—too much liability, too much temptation, too many ways to get ourselves killed or worse. The most we get is staring out past the wards at the beautiful expanse of untouched forests, imagining what freedom tastes like.
But leave it to Brix. Of course, he’d be the one to smash through the limits the rest of us are stuck in. Top of his Wrath class, winner of the combat trials for the Freshman sin training class. The pride of his instructors.
His reward? One sanctioned evening off academy grounds. And instead of picking one of his buddies to celebrate with, or even flying solo so he can show off to the upperclassmen, he invited… me.
Well—invited is a loose term. More like cornered me in the courtyard and announced it loud enough for everyone within ten feet to hear.
“For the record,” he’d said after, muttering under his breath, “it’s strictly so we can keep our jealousy act running strong.”
Still, when I meet him at the gates, I can’t stop the little flutter in my chest. The academy walls loom behind us, wards glowing as the sun drops low, while ahead the winding road curls toward the small town everyone talks about—bars, shops, late-night food. Academy Hollow.
I’m guessing that since our cafeteria rarely has even a quarter of the student body in attendance, this is where students spend their free time.
I tuck my hands into my coat pockets as we walk through the winding cobblestones of the small town. “So… this is all just strategy, huh? You couldn’t possibly have just wanted to spend an evening off campus with your good friend Arwen?”
Brix flashes that almost-charming, almost-suspicious grin. “Oh please. You think I’d waste my one night of freedom on bond torture duty if you weren’t such excellent company?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, so I’m excellent company now?”
“Don’t twist my words.” He nudges my shoulder lightly. “I said that you’re tolerable. That’s Wrath language for excellent company. You should know that.”
I laugh despite myself. The road dips, and the village lights flicker overhead—warm gold scattered against the dark like fireflies.
For a moment, I forget about the council, about the potion, about how my bonds are strangling me from the inside out.
It’s just me and Brix, trading barbs on a cold evening, heading toward a world that feels off-limits and dangerous in the best way. Freedom.
“Fine,” I say, smirking up at him. “One date. Strictly professional. Just to make Atticus jealous.”
“Exactly,” he says, voice all mock seriousness. But when he glances at me, his grin softens, and for a heartbeat it doesn’t feel like a game at all.
It’s too dangerous and too easy to fall for Brix.
When we reach our destination, Brix holds the door open for me like a true gentleman.
The pub is louder than I expected. Smoke curls from the fireplace in the corner, and the air smells like spiced cider and roasted meat.
I’m still shaking off the chill of the walk outside the wards when my eyes snag on Atticus. Just as expected.
The second I see him slouched at a corner table with a few of his Pride friends. Brix was right to guess we’d run into him. I was prepared to run into him. I hadn’t anticipated his appearance.
No date hanging on his arm. No signature arrogant smirk. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. His shoulders are tight, his eyes are hollow, and he hasn’t touched his drink. He looks—miserable.
For half a second, our gazes catch across the room. His posture locks up, sharp and sudden. and then he looks away, his hand curling tight around his glass.
Brix notices like he always does. His grin widens, satisfied, and he drapes an arm across my shoulders with exaggerated ease.
“Table for two?” he tells the hostess, his voice carrying. “Somewhere cozy.”
I play along because that’s what this whole thing is supposed to be. An act. A show.
Still, when Brix’s hand brushes the back of my neck as he guides me toward a booth, my heart skips at the contact.
Stop being a hussy, Arwen. Brix is a friend, not food.
Once we’re seated, I keep my eyes on the menu.
“He looks rough.” I mumble.
Brix nods. “Good," he snaps.
Then, his eyes flick to mine, a flicker of something softer breaking through. “Are you… okay?”
I nod. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
His brow creases, but he lets it go, sliding into a new topic like he always does when things get too close to the edge.
Brix leans back in the booth, one arm slung casually over the seat. “Crazy, huh? All those years in Furycliff and I don’t think we ever said two words to each other.”
I huff a laugh. “Yeah. You were busy with the golden boys—the noise, the muscle, the arena heroes.”
He grins, unashamed. “What can I say? I like to put on a good show.”
“Wrath kids like cracking skulls for fun,” I say with a smile. “And that arena? Gods, I loved it. Fights almost every day.”
“Almost?” He raises a brow. “Try every day. Half the time the professors just let it happen. Character building, they’d call it.”
“Yeah, well, easy for them to say when they weren’t the ones getting their faces smashed against stone walls. Some of us didn’t exactly volunteer.”
His eyes fill with remorse, and I sigh and roll my eyes at him. I hate pity.
“It was impressive, you know, how you held your own even without powers, but you always kept your head down. I remember that you liked to hang out with that Sadie girl a lot.”
My throat tightens a little at the thought of Sadie. I wonder where she is now?
“Yeah, she was my best friend. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a good fight. I guess they stopped being fun for me when everyone else came into their powers. It was easier to fly under the radar. But you were amazing. Wrath through and through.”
He shrugs, but there’s an edge under the casualness.
“It was a role. But I never thought less of you. We just… were in different worlds, I guess.”
I glance down at the table, tracing the rim of my glass with my finger. “Different worlds in the same place. Furycliff feels so small now compared to this academy.”
“Yeah.” He exhales. “Here at least you can relax knowing you won’t go hungry. Back home, it felt like all stone walls and sharp edges. Like the whole place was waiting to chew you up if you slipped.”
I think back to my old world. “It’s a dangerous place. There’s some beauty in it though, if you know where to find it. Have you ever seen the view from the northern cliffs? I’d make the hike if not, it’s worth it.”
He pauses his study of the menu, studying me in a way that makes my chest heat. “Guess that I never noticed all the beauty Wrath offers.”
“Too busy with your adoring fans,” I tease, though the warmth in my chest doesn’t fade.
He smirks, but it softens into something else—something almost wistful. A curl falls across his eye, and he doesn’t bother brushing it away. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The conversation drifts after that—school, classes, stupid professors from back home.
Brix asks a lot of questions, drawing stories out of me I didn’t even realize I remembered.
And I realize how easy it is with him. How natural.
Sitting across from him in this warm booth, trading secrets and laughter, I can almost picture what it would be like if things were different.
If I didn’t have the weight of my bonds.
If danger didn’t curl around both of us like a shadow.
I almost could forget Atticus was in the room, if the tug in my chest could let me.
It would be so, so easy to let myself want this.
But I can’t. I won’t. Brix is one of my best friends. One of my few real friends. If I blur that line, I risk losing him completely.
And losing him might destroy me faster than any bond ever could.
So I smile, I joke, I let my knee bump his under the table.
I nearly spill my drink when movement outside the window catches my eye—Ryker, hands in his pockets, strolling past with a pack of upper-class Wraths behind him.
He glances in, throws me that quick, shameless wink…
and his gaze flicks to Brix for half a second.
Then he keeps walking like nothing happened.
The others keep talking, but my pulse doesn’t get the memo.
We’ve had our… moments. Quiet corners. Stolen smiles. His hand brushing mine as he walked by me. All behind closed doors, nothing anyone could twist into gossip.
He’s busy—future Councilor busy, heir-to-a-faction busy. I know that. I do.
But the second he’s gone, the space beside me feels too empty, and I hate how much I miss the warmth he leaves behind.
“You want this last breadstick?” Brix asks, pulling me out of my head. I smile and grab it from the plate as we finish up our meal.
***
We’re just stepping out into the chill evening air, the glow of the pub spilling onto the cobblestones, when a hand closes around my wrist. My pulse spikes—the bond recognizing him before I even look.
I turn, and sure enough, he’s there, standing half in shadow but unmistakable. His grip is firm but not harsh, more like an anchor than a trap. Around us, students slow, pretending not to stare but obviously staring. Wondering what their King could want with a useless sinless, I’m sure.
Brix stiffens beside me, ready to intervene, but I shake my head before he can.
Atticus’ eyes meet mine, and for once, there’s no smirk, no sharp edge—just exhaustion. Raw, unguarded exhaustion. “Enough,” he says quietly. “I’ll stop.”
The words hang there, heavy.
I blink. “Stop what?”
He exhales. “Antagonizing you. Pushing, prodding, making everything harder than it already is.” His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look away. “The bond’s tearing us both apart.” He whispers in my ear. “I know that. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter.”
The sidewalk feels too still, the buzz of students fading into a muffled hum. My chest tightens, the ache of the bond flaring at his honesty. I don’t know if it’s relief or pain—probably both.
“So you’re admitting you’ll leave me alone?” I say, skeptical.
“I mean, I don’t want to leave you alone.” He says roughly. “But if that’s what you want then I understand.”
“And you’ll quit embarrassing me? Get your posse to stand down and stop torturing me? People are watching Atticus. It’ll be harder for you to deny.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, but I can’t help it.
He almost smiles, but it’s weary. “Better this way. Let them see it. Let them see I’m done treating you like an enemy.”
My heart stutters. He’s waving a white flag—in public, no less. But the bond doesn’t care about declarations. It still throbs, raw and wounded, reminding me of every sharp word, every disdainful glance, every night I lay awake feeling the distance between us like a blade.
“I don’t…” My throat tightens, but I push through. “I don’t know if I believe you.”
Hurt shows on his face, though he covers it quickly. “You don’t have to. Just… watch. I’ll prove it.”
He releases my wrist, stepping back into the path of the lantern light. And for the first time since I’ve known him, Atticus Willshire doesn’t look untouchable. He looks human.
The bond aches with a strange, sharp twist—half relief, half longing. I clutch my arms around myself, as if I can hold the pieces together.
Brix nudges me, clearing his throat. “Bus is waiting.”
I nod, tearing my gaze from Atticus. But as I step onto the bus, I can still feel his eyes on me, the weight of his words pressed into my skin like a promise I don’t know how to trust.