Atticus Pund Novels & Stories

Brian and Tristan yelled as they took off running and were thankful Atticus caught Cyrus… After lunch, Atticus was ready to nail both of them to the wall. They thought it was funny to nail his tool belt and work gloves to the highest beam. Once Atticus managed to get his tool belt down, he discovered most of his tools were missing. As he looked around Atticus discovered they nailed them to every hard-to-reach spot they could find...

Atticus fell to the ground, crying out in pain. Paxton coldly snorted, looking down at Atticus, who was lying on the ground. "Is that all?" he thought. His speed of attack was fast enough, yet Atticus was still screaming like that. "You're truly weaker than a woman," Paxton commented in his mind.

“What do you want now? Get out of here. I don’t want you here.” Her heart clenched painfully at his words. What’s going on? Why does he hate me so much? “Uh, Mr. Everette…” she swallowed, trying to calm her racing heart. “I’m here to apply for the secretary position.” He laughed bitterly, stepping closer. “You want to work for me? After everything?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Are you playing games with me, Atticus?” Confused and shocked, Atticus’s nerves turned to frustration. “What are you talking about? And how do you know my name? Did you read my résumé?”

RIN POV “Don't be a dummy, you think I would want to help you without gaining anything in the process? You might have been an Alpha. But you are so naive. And reckless,” Atticus said, taking well calculated strides towards me with a new scar on his jaw. Like a spear's end mark. Like he was daring me to make a damn move and he would finish what he started; my doom. “So why did you put give me that pill? And I can distinctively remember pouring it into Thorne's glass," I replied, my body was sore where I had been manhandled roughly.

Cynthia Dion: "Ehm! Your friend fell asleep in my room. She must be quite tired," Atticus remarked as he loomed in the doorway, his tone sounding more spiteful than conversational. "Why don't you spend some time with her, then?" I replied, keeping my focus on the dishes I was washing. "Why don’t you want me to eat your pussy tonight?" He whispered," he muttered in a hushed tone. In response to his remark, I clenched my muscles and held my tongue, utterly incredulous.

"This won't do. I don't want you to be frightened of me." I open my eyes slowly. Atticus' face is so close I can count his eyelashes and see every speck of gold in his hazel eyes. His blonde hair has grown longer since the school year started and his bangs, which were short and sporty, now brush the tops of his brown eyebrows in large, gentle curls. He isn't just handsome. Atticus Preston is beautiful--too beautiful to be real. "What do you plan to do," I finally speak. "You said you didn't want to be the one and yet..."

“You’re crazy. I don’t love you. I never will.” But he doesn’t seem to hear me. He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a silver locket. “I was going to give you this tonight.” He pinches the side and it flicks open. When I don’t take it from him, he dangles it before my eyes. I expect to see a picture of myself and him, but on the right oval, there is an elegant scrawling with a single word. Name. Lucianne. “For our daughter,” Atticus adds. “I carved it myself.” My free hand flies instinctively to my stomach. “There is no ‘our’! My—”

"Call him now or I'll fucking fire you and I'll make sure you won't ever find another job in this city. Are we fucking clear?" "Y-yes, sir. Right away." I hang up and slip the phone back into my pocket, shifting my stance, positioning myself where the condo is in full view. The minutes stretch, every nerve in me strung tight. The condo door opens and Atticus steps out, shoulders squared, phone in hand, his face pulled into that commanding mask we both wear so easily. He doesn't glance around, doesn't sense me watching him like a vulture in the shadows. He heads down the path toward the casino.

“What are you talking about?” “I know you and I know your inner Betty Cooper is deafened by the alarm bells that this place gives off. Don’t bother lying or try to suppress it. You and I both know that there’s something… off about this place… about our distant aunt and uncle,” Atticus insinuates. I hide my truth behind a stoic expression. “I don’t know what you mean?” Attius interrogates me with a probing look. A sly smile crawls on his face. He saunters over and seats himself beside Joshua, the mattress dips beneath him.