THIRTY-THREE | LOST

Atticus

The grounds were coming together nicely, Atticus thought. He stood on the steps to the porch, his father beside him, surveying the gardens as Jarine and his mother strung decorations from the blooming fruit trees. Omegas scuttled around them, taking orders from their Mother Luna.

Were they assisting so much as they were getting in the way? He raised a cool eyebrow at one of the younger Omegas, a cowering girl whose hands shook every time Nearyn gave her an instruction. And, though his mother looked upon the girl kindly, Atticus wanted to throttle her. It was hanging bunting; there was nothing to be nervous about.

“Walk with me,” his father said abruptly, clapping a heavy hand on Atticus’s shoulder. “Let’s take a turn through the gardens.”

“I’m not some doe-eyed girl you’re trying to woo,&r