Page 550 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

So I wanted us to both hurt together.

It sickens me that I ever think like that, and I always have to do a lot of convincing to remind myself that I’m not like my brother—that I never will be.

“I cannot have pathetic Bonds. You must be closer to my level. The only way you can do that is by fighting me properly.”

“But you know none of us can beat you!” Tiger whines.

“Fight me. Now.”

“I’ll fight you, baby— Oomph.”

I blink down at Tate, who’s been taken to the hard floor of the private training room in under a second.

I slowly look back up at Ezla as she crosses her arms over her chest languidly, standing there without a twitch to show she’s just taken down a man double her size. “He’s the best of us. How do you expect us to get anywhere if even he can’t?”

Tate jumps to his feet, advancing again with nothing but desire in every inch of his body language. “Goddam, Havoc, that was hot.”

She holds up a gloved hand, halting him in place without turning her head his way. “That is why it will be two on one and three on one,” she answers me.

“I like the sound of that, baby.” Tate winks, and I roll my eyes heavenwards.

“4 and 29, you will go last. So pay attention and learn.”

“Okay.” Alby’s head bobs up and down with eyes the size of tennis balls, his fear palpable.

Tate just pouts.

“35, 38, 17. Get into position.”

Reluctantly, I take up a spot behind her, the brothers spreading out at her front.

Tiger starts, “So when do we—”

He shrieks as Vengeance’s boot flies at his head.

While he dodges, Scotty advances on her, and I shift on my feet uneasily. It feels different to fight her now, even though I didn’t hold back in Game 1. That was life or death, this is . . . this is the woman I’m . . . I . . .

My heart squeezes at the same moment Ezla shouts venomously, “Fight back!” and her fist, baton clenched in it, slams unforgivingly into my chest, then the other into my gut in quick succession, causing me to double over. It gives HC a perfect angle to land a brutal kick to my helmet afterwards that hurts even through the taalk, making my ears ring.

Then she’s on top of me, pissed but still in control, unlike with Peter. I vaguely note Scotty and Tiger struggling back to their feet, but they pause at the sight of us.

Ezla’s armoury sticks must’ve found their way back to her shoulder blades in the last second because her hands now wrap around my neck. “Fucking coward! FIGHT BACK, I SAID!”

The words are gritted out before I can stop myself: “Don’t make me, Ezla. Don’t make me hurt you—especially not when someone else already is.”

She becomes a statue on top of me.

It was a mistake to say that, I know. Completely invasive, too. And I’m just waiting for her to storm off like always, which would be understandable.

But she doesn’t.

Her voice is so quiet when she leans closer that it’s hard for my ears to pick up on the robotic notes. “No one hurts me.”

I don’t know what’s come over me, but I don’t yield. I only push even harder, as if I have a death wish. I’m sure the other men are currently questioning my sanity. “Don’t they? Then where does all that anger, all that pain come from? The way you snap, just like that—”

Her hands start to squeeze, and I let out a wheezing sound.

“I will kill you.” The statement is completely unfeeling. I’ve pushed too much, and instead of inciting her anger like I’d wanted to, needing to see the truth in her, it’s only made her strengthen her walls, put that emotionless, composed mask back on.