Page 92 of Glutton for Punishment

And there’s no hesitation at all when I nod my head. Bond or not, this man is mine.

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.”