Page 38 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

“One minute remaining.”

My heart pounds in my ears.

“GRAB IT!”

Scotty’s reaching for the pouch hanging from Ezla’s hip before Player 17’s words have even fully burst into the thick air, and the world slows to a crawl.

THUMP-THUMP.

His hand envelopes the netting.

THUMP-THUMP.

He tears it from her hip.

THUMP-THUMP.

The black-tinted crimson cube tumbles out.

THUMP-THUMP.

Scotty catches it deftly, and his other hand has already yanked his own pouch apart, one fist emitting that bloody glow, the other a deep emerald.

THUMP-THUMP.

He slams the cubes together.

Speed returns to normal in a whoosh, and I vaguely recognise the crowd’s outraged cries as their beloved Champion, the notoriously Unbonded Exot . . . becomes Bonded.

My breath hitches as the crimson cube is gradually infected more and more by the green of Scotty’s Avri, the splotch growing larger and larger every second. All the while, Ezla bellows and threatens manically, thrashing about in Player 4’s unrelenting grip and the even stronger chains snaked around her lithe form. I beg the universe to please keep her contained, pure terror crashing through me every time she looks like she might escape.

One second . . .

two . . .

three . . .

four . . .

five.

Scotty sucks in a sharp gasp as the cubes break apart, Ezla’s reverting to its original colour as he quickly passes it off to his brother. Then his freed hand goes to his chest, pressing over his heart like he’s in pain, his blue eyes stretched wide and filled with a thousand combating emotions as he stares at the Champion.

Another five seconds, and Tiger has an almost identical expression on his face as he hands the used crimson cube to Player 17 beside him; his mouth drops open, and he has no words for once.

My breath shudders as I glance at the countdown, seeing only twenty-six seconds remaining, and my gloved hand fumbles with the pouch at my hip, tearing it open and strangling my bonding cube in my fist in preparation.

Player 17’s green takes over the other cube . . .

Then releases.

He hurriedly passes it to Player 4 as a harsh exhale leaves him, intense gaze flicking to Ezla’s sleek, glinting helmet as she’s passed with a maximum security that’s never been more needed to the Gold brothers, who both wrap their arms tightly around her viciously struggling body. Tiger makes sure the chains stay on by gripping them and the armoury sticks they’re connected to tightly to free up mine and Player 4’s hands, while Scotty keeps her as still as possible in his arms, muscles stark in them from the strength needed.

My legs shake uncontrollably as the numbers on the viewing box tick down.

00:16

00:15