Page 47 of Glutton for Punishment

“Your father is requesting a meeting.”

Maddox goes still for half a second, then exhales through his nose.

“Of course he already knows,” he mutters.

Atticus straightens. “Your father is here?”

Maddox gives him a look like that’s a stupid question. “We’re in Feastwell. Our capital. Of course he’s here. You were just lucky I was too, or you’d likely be trading one cell for another.”

Feastwell.

The name hits me sideways.

This is Tabby’s home.

Just the name of her hometown hits me like a punch to the gut.

My friends. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen them. Like a different life.

Atticus’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp. “And you think she’s safe with him here?”

Maddox’s expression hardens. “There is no version of reality where anything happens to her under my watch.”

The words land like a strike, and I feel Atticus tense beside me at the implication.

She got hurt under yours.

Atticus explodes into motion, a blur of controlled fury that crosses the room in two strides. He slams into Maddox, the impact sending them both stumbling back a step with a sickening thud of bodies colliding. Before the sound even fades, Lucas’s gun is drawn, the cold click of the safety echoing in the sudden silence as he levels it at Atticus’s heart.

“Stop!” I demand, heart in my throat.

The room goes very, very still as Lucas slowly puts away his gun.

I push back my chair so hard it scrapes loudly against the marble floor, standing tall even if I only reach their chests.

“Will you both put your dicks away already?” I snap, glaring between them.

“Seriously. Atticus, this is a massive upgrade from where we just were,” I continue, gesturing vaguely. “I’m alive. I’m not being tortured. We just got here and we don’t have a lot of options.”

Neither of them speaks.

I cross my arms, forcing my voice to steady. “I’m not exactly eager to get thrown into the Wastes right away or experience the pain of the bond separation again. So maybe we don’t start killing each other before we get the chance to sleep and figure out what Councilor West’s intentions are.”

Atticus exhales, running a hand through his hair before stepping back.

“Fine,” he mutters, though he still looks like he’d very much like to hit something.

Probably Maddox.

He turns and walks out without another word. The door slams shut behind him, harder than necessary.

Definitely Maddox.

Maddox’s tension is still coiled tight in his shoulders, watching the door. When he looks at me, something in his expression softens.

“I won’t be gone long,” he says, quieter now. “I’ll make the meeting quick.”

The gentle tone melts me a little but still feels foreign coming from him.