Page 468 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

“So? There’re no rules saying you can’t kill someone who’s the same social classification as you in Game 1—it happens sometimes when two Evots are fighting over the same Exot.”

Scotty’s head tilts. “Fair. But we should reserve that for Game 2 and onwards, and only when necessary. Even though I can admit that I strongly dislike people like Troy and Aider, wanting to kill someone and actually doing it are two very different things.” He seems to momentarily forget he has a helmet on, and his hand rubs over the sleek black surface rather than his head before he carries on, “We should focus on bonding in the first Game. We can’t be distracted when it’s our lives on the line. An Evot can’t be an Unbonded—not unless we lose our Bonded later in the Games. And if that happens, we’ll be right back here in a year’s time.”

That’s right: it’s the Evots who have to do the bonding, while the Exots are hell-bent on killing us to avoid becoming a Bonded at all costs. Like every other aspect of The Bonding Games, it’s completely unfair. While Exots can pass Game 1 unbonded, Evots who haven’t claimed anyone are taken from the arena to be executed for “refusal to play the Game”.

As if Evots don’t do everything possible to bond and live to see another day.

Because of this, Unbonded Evots are incredibly rare. There’s not been one in years, in fact. When there is one, whichever school they came from will only have to generate nine names for as long as that Player is alive and without a Bond, and so on, but that’s the only selfish perk I can possibly think of.

It’s not even like it’s much better for Exots, since if an Evot doesn’t manage to bond them and they survive, they’ll have to repeat the Games again and again every year until they’re either claimed, killed, or they age out. Sometimes, I’m not sure why they fight so hard against becoming a Bonded—it’s not like it’s actually the rules. Though I guess there’s so little of them that it’s fully open to interpretation, and this is just the way things worked out. And when I remember that a good chunk of our opponents are bloodthirsty animals in the Games, as if they’re in their natural habitat, it’s not exactly difficult to understand why.

“Sure,” Tiger agrees readily. Then perks up like a puppy. “We’ll all pick one together, right?” His eyes flick over to mine, the usual twinkle back in them. “Me and Scotty have always said we’d bond the same Exot if we were generated together, whether we’d be platonic or romantic with them. It’ll be easier to bond and stay alive that way, and we also decided we don’t mind sharing our Bonded if it is romantic.”

My jaw drops down, then snaps back up. Then drops again.

It’s one thing to ask me to be their friend so readily, but to ask me to share a Bonded with them . . .

I gulp.

That’s for life. They’d practically become my family. And forever, too, if we all made it through the Games.

And I realise then, that for the first time, I actually considered the possibility that I might be able to live through this nightmare. With them by my side, it doesn’t seem so utterly implausible.

“I’m okay with that,” Scotty says after a moment. “I like you, Alby. We’ve only just met, but I can tell you have a pure heart—you’re a good person. And there doesn’t seem to be many of those around these days.”

My eyes gloss over, and for once, I don’t try to hide it. “Wow . . .” I breathe, voice trembling. “Thank you . . . I-I mean, of course. That—that means so much to me.”

“Of course! This is so exciting!” Tiger’s volume attracts half of the room.

And I hardly even curl in on myself.

***

After finishing up in the dining hall, we head to the Training Centre.

Tiger yaps the entire way.

I find my cheeks aching from the smile that’s been glued to my face the entire time as he enthusiastically recounts his and his brother’s entire history . . . and their great-grandparents’.

“. . . I mean, can you believe my great-grandfather would do such a thing?! On their honeymoon, too!” He looks at me with humungous eyes, and those blues are a tad intimidating when glued to me with such intensity, but it’s impossible to feel unsafe with Tiger. “If I ever got married, I would never squish a bee into her skin! I’d catch that little supervillain in a net before I allowed any bug juice to get on such a perfect surface!”

Scotty’s own eyes roll up to the ceiling.

My grin widens.

“Wow . . . I love her already.” Tiger’s gaze glazes over as a dreamy look comes over his face, distracted from his storytelling at the thought of his imaginary wife.

Biting back a laugh, I turn my head back his brother’s way to see what he thinks of this.

Only to find him already looking at me with an intense expression on his face.

My grin falters for a second, but the stare doesn’t feel malicious, more just studying, scrutinising. And when Scotty looks back at his brother as we keep moving through the halls, I understand:

Tiger is a rare, genuine person who expresses himself freely—and often loudly and wildly—and I know many people can be judgmental of that.

I have first-hand experience of how poorly people can treat those who stand out from the majority.

So, even though my personality is the extreme opposite of Tiger’s, I understand. And I don’t fault his brother for looking out for him, but I’ll do my best to prove to him that I’m someone who can be trusted, someone who simply wants to be friends with them for however long that can last when there’s violence all around us.