Elomot, a member of the Mosan family, was the one behind everything. Yet out of all the details Atticus had learned, one stood out above the rest.
'He wants me away from the city.'
No… not the city.
His people.
The brief time Atticus had spent around Elomot had already revealed the sort of man he was.
He had attempted to kill Gladious simply because the man refused to hand over his daughter. Then there was the army of barely clothed women constantly surrounding him wherever he went.
He was after the women in their group.
Atticus's gaze turned so cold it felt capable of freezing a planet. Yet almost immediately, he felt something stir in response to his anger, causing his brows to furrow slightly.
'The Primal Will…'
The will of the reverents had begun to boil within him.
Even now, it refused to assimilate with his own will, as though disdaining the very thought.
Instead, it latched onto him, feeding off his anger and magnifying it far beyond what it should've been.
