Atticus Noble Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Callahan, I kill people for a living.” Atticus’s eyes widened as Blaze casually shrugged off his doctor’s coat and tossed it onto the sofa. His tattoos stood out more now—covering his arms and neck in intricate designs. He looked more like a dangerous gangster than a doctor. “It also means I can run faster than you,” Blaze added smugly, his tone oozing arrogance. Atticus couldn’t help but stare. Is he even a real doctor? “Down, boys,” Tom said, stepping between Lee and Blaze before their argument could escalate. “Stop it.”

I watched a middle-aged man of considerable strength walk in, his glassy, nearly white hair tied back away from his face. A cloak of all black shields his body, but his identity is unmistakable. I’d remember him anywhere because his face is ingrained in my memory like a scar. He gave me a single shred of hope during one of the darkest times of my life while I was locked away, underground, just like I am now. “Queen Ella,” Atticus says with a bow. The doors shut behind him with a snap. “What kind of game are you playing?” I edge toward him, my eyes shining with the last traces of my powers. “Where are we?”