Page 755 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

One slow blink. Uhhhh . . . I’m not sure if that’s . . .

You are alive, I interrupt. Did you not want to stay alive for me?

His response comes quickly. I did! I do!

My lip curls upwards. You want to make me happy?

Yes! His head bobs up and down frantically to emphasise his point.

Then you will stay alive by any means necessary. You will make sure you always come back to me.

My directions bring him a sense of peace and contentment within all this, I feel as much as I see. His only purpose is to serve me. He does not have to worry about anything else.

Hmm . . . it seems I have accidentally comforted him.

Whatever. I guess this will only serve my purpose to have him falling at my feet, even if the efforts are not needed.

Yes . . . I promise, Ezla.

Very good. Now, come. It is over now.

27

SCOTTY

I killed someone for the first time today. But although there’s the guilt, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.

Luckily, they were an Exot, which is what’s aided in that minimal remorse, and as bad as that sounds, the truth is that it would have been harder to kill an Evot . . . well, unless it were Troy or Aider. Not just because a good majority of those who wear red Avri live up to their classification’s traits, either; I’m well aware not all of them are bad people, even if those numbers are few and far between. But I’ve been around Evots all my life, and I know this doesn’t make my reasoning any better, but it was easier to end a life I knew nothing about compared to if I were to end any that feel so similar to mine, those I understand better and empathise with. Sometimes, Exots still feel so distant from us they seem unreal, even though I see them on a daily basis now. Only one stands out from the rest, and she’s unreal in a different way. A way that has me swallowing hard and my insides shifting, fucking writhing for her, with just a thought.

Ezla’s . . . gods, she’s everything I didn’t know I needed in a woman. Her independence, the way she’s not afraid to ask for what she wants . . . it’s insanely attractive. She’s not at all shy with me, not like girls have been in the past. And with the ever-growing need to take care of her, even if she’s far from needing it, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to stop myself from making a move on her. But with the way she responds to Tate’s advances, I know my own wouldn’t be welcomed.

Cooper and him seem perfectly fine, Tate for obvious reasons, but I’m not so sure I trust the former’s outward appearance when we all know that, for some reason, he has an aversion to violence. I’m also not aware whether this was his first kill or if he killed during Game 1, and it feels invasive to ask.

My brother, on the other hand, has been abnormally quiet and looks more shaken than Alby, who, with all things considered, I would’ve expected to be in a horrific state. But although his puffy eyes suggest he might have been a half hour earlier, he seems okay now. And with the way he’s looking at Ezla like she’s the Sun and he’s the Earth revolving around her, I think she had something to do with it. How she managed that when comfort is the last thing I’d think she’d be capable of giving, I don’t know.

Then again, her presence does seem to bring me an odd sense of contentment along with a whole other hoard of emotions I can’t focus on at this moment in time when I need to be there for my brother.

Pulling ahead of the group as we walk through the glossy black halls to our Bonded washroom, Ezla shockingly still with us—though I’m not as hopeful as Tate clearly is with his manic-looking eyes alight that she’ll actually go inside with us when we get there since she’s never used it before, and I don’t think anything’s changed that would encourage her to—I grip Tiger’s bicep to distance the two of us from the others.

“You need anything? Talk? Spar?”

He shakes his head.

I rack my mind desperately for a solution. I always have one, and I can’t fail him now on what’s likely the most challenging moment of his life.

“Clubbing?”

Tiger’s head pops up at the same time my attention snaps to Cooper. That was unexpected coming from him.

“You want us to go dance?” My voice betrays my uncertainty.

He shrugs, glancing between me and Tiger, then everybody else. “We just survived Game 2, right? That’s cause for celebration.” He pauses before continuing, “I know . . . I know that was hard—believe me, I do. It’s . . .” Disgust scrunches his nose up. “It’s fucking abhorrent what they make us do. But we’re alive. We’ve done it. And . . . we have each other. The Games brought us together, and I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I’m grateful for that. Truly. You’ve all quickly become . . .” he trails off and shakes his head but looks at each of us meaningfully, shooting a quicker, more fleeting glance at Ezla before awkwardly scratching at the stubble that’s recently started to grow along his jaw.

“Yes!” Tiger perks up instantly at Cooper’s last words, and I let out a sigh of relief. I’ll still happily be here for him when his mood inevitably drops again, but when he’s like this, it takes a lot to bring him down. “We’re all here together! We’ve made a little family! And despite everything, if this was the only way to have met you and be in a Bonded group with you, then I’d do it all again! Especially to meet Ezzy— I mean Ez! Sorry!” He darts a wide-eyed oh-my-god! look at me before turning the panicked expression on our Bonded.

She keeps walking beside Alby without a word, clearly not interested in the conversation at all. She doesn’t even bother to look at any of us.

“Uhhh . . . okay! Right, clubbing! I’ve never been clubbing!”