Page 100 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Ezla’s back in full force like a hurricane. She barks, What has happened? You have killed? Show me.

An image comes through of a mousy-haired girl a fair distance away down an identical stretch of hall to the one I’m in, an arrow speared through her forehead, dead centre.

She wasn’t even wearing her helmet.

Some don’t always—there’s nothing to say you actually have to; The Council would never enforce a rule like that when they thrive off the chaos and death of the Games—and I don’t know if they simply think they don’t need it, but I can’t comprehend it even if that was the case. I’ve seen even Iggy without his helmet during one of the Games, and I didn’t think much of it at the time, too focused on the fact he could have just shot my brother but didn’t, but now that I am, I’m really not sure why anyone wouldn’t want to use as much protection as possible—the indestructible taalk they’re made of is our biggest advantage, preventing headshots just like the one before me. The only thing I can think is they’re either overconfident or they believe they’re already dead when their name’s generated for the Games.

And I’m thinking that’s true for this girl, that maybe she’d just given up, because her helmet’s actually on the floor beside her, I see now. What’s more, I’m quite certain this is Player 60’s Bonded, the Exot Ezla just killed, so it would make sense for her to feel like she couldn’t go on when she undoubtably felt the bond go dead. That still doesn’t explain Iggy’s decisions in the past, but I don’t have time to analyse that at the moment, so I store that in my mind for another time in case it does mean something.

On the forearm that’s landed on the dead girl’s middle as she lies motionless on her back, I make out the number ‘1’, and even from here, I can see her eyes are unseeing and glazed over, staring lifelessly up at the starry ceiling of The Dome. Like most other Players, I struggle to remember the names of those not in my Bonded group, though I never actually learned many in the first place since everyone keeps to themselves and our numbers are all that are on display, but I do remember hers: Mira Flint. Being Player 1, hers is the first name everyone saw on that big screen on Name Generation Day, so I guess it’s easier to remember—

Scotty, you have just added to your list of punishments.

I jolt forcefully back into myself and my own vision at Ezla’s voice in my mind.

She continues evenly, Alby, I do so appreciate you getting rid of the girl for me, as that would take time I do not have these days to eliminate a person my sensible one seems to believe he could think of—

Both amusement and relief somehow find me after that depressing picture, and I cut in, I wasn’t thinking of her in any way, Love. I know you don’t experience this, but we feel sadness for lives lost. You have to understand that our feelings surrounding anyone’s death has nothing to do with being interested in them in the way you’re thinking and everything to do with the simple fact that someone’s gone when they shouldn’t be.

Completely ignoring me, Ezla continues, Your aim was truly beautiful, my shy boy. Well done. You will be rewarded very soon.

Sighing, I hold my bow and arrow at the ready, pointing my arrowhead down at the glossy floor reflecting my emerald-adorned image back up at me. At least Alby’s calmed instantly, though, his mood shooting back up at Ezla’s praise. She’s really good for him—they’re both amazing for each other—and I can only hope with everything in me that our Bonded’s current behaviour is an indication that my earlier words haven’t ruined things for my brothers and her.

I . . . Thank you, Ezla . . . Alby’s one hundred percent the colour of a plum right now.

You are most welcome. A brief pause before she all but snaps, Now, let’s continue. Cooper, hurry up and get to me.

What do you think I’m bloody trying to do?

In response to Cooper’s passive-aggressive question—or just downright aggressive—Ezla projects a snippet of her slowly peeling the skin from his face to reveal the flesh beneath.

What the fuck?!

I’m not sure what makes me wince more—the volume of Cooper’s horrified exclamation, Tiger’s high-pitched internal screech that also echoes through my head, or the sight itself, which our Bonded thankfully has already taken away.

Your violence is so fucking hot, Havoc, baby. Fuck, still makes my dick so fucking hard without fail. I might cum right here, right now.

Ignoring Tate’s groan and the arousal that seeps from him into her, and unfortunately me as a result, Ezla sends without emotion, I am still quite mad at you, and though not as comfortable as I would prefer, the feeling I gained when I imagined that was not quite as disturbing as it has become as of late. I would advise you to keep yourselves in check. All of you.

I swallow thickly, a smidge of that guilt coming back again. I hate that I’ve set her off like this when we’ve all been moving so well together, and I’m praying that Cooper and I haven’t set us back a step, possibly several.

I’m sure Cooper’s grinding his teeth when he replies lowly, Yes, Vengeance.

Her mind falls quiet after that, no one adding anything else, maybe sensing it wouldn’t be welcomed.

Blowing out a quiet breath, I shake my head as I round the corner—

“Shit!”

The word isn’t spoken by me, but I do let out a vicious curse of my own as a figure with a shade of green similar to mine on his suit knocks me right off my feet. Lightweight helmet smacking into the taalk with a thud as we land in a heap, the impact is still jarring.

With one hand on the man’s shoulder and my other holding an armoury stick that I manifest into a blade after the Avri sucked back into my batons a beat earlier with my loss of concentration through the shock, I think fast with my brain kicking back into gear, using my body weight to roll us over and get myself on top. Of course he fights me, and it ends up with us in a wild grapple before he pants out when I’m about to finally fucking pin him and get a clear shot at him, “Stop! Fuck, stop!”

I falter, but he’s the one that ran at me full force, as if he was trying to catch me off guard. I don’t attack unless it’s necessary, but this guy, who I note from the number on his suit is Player 2, seemed set on killing me. Or so I’d thought.

“Please! Shit! I didn’t mean to run into you!” Wide hazel eyes that remind me of my quietest brother stare up at me, petrified. “I was running from someone! Fucking Player 22 and one of his Exots!”

I freeze completely now.