Page 22 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Alby goes to reach for her before thinking better of it, his quivering hand dropping back to his side. “Please don’t go back to him,” he whispers. “We can . . . we can find a way to keep you safe.” He looks around at all of us, silently pleading. He pauses on Scotty, but he only shakes his head with that look back on his face that’s starting to become far too familiar.

Alby’s eyes gloss as Ezla reaches a hand up to smooth her palm over his raven head of hair. In her usual tone, she says, “Do not worry about me. I have survived much throughout my eighteen years of life; I can live through much more.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.” Alby’s voice breaks.

“But I must.” Her voice firms, and she steps back.

Pure panic stretches out his eyelids and fills the room in an instant from more than just him.

I step forwards without permission. “Wait, Vengeance—”

“No. I have to go now.”

Another step.

Tate begins to rush for her with a desperate growl of her name, and Scotty lunges after him, earning a brutal elbow to his ribs that he’s in no condition to receive. He doubles over with a pained gasp, which snaps me back to reality along with Tiger and Alby, all of us jumping on our largest brother to help control him.

“No. NO! FUCKING GET OFF! HAVOC! HAVOC, DON’T GO TO HIM! DON’T!”

Choked breaths sound in my ears, and I don’t know if they’re mine, Alby’s, Tiger’s, or all of my brothers’ mixed together as we struggle to keep the raging one in our arms in check.

Our Bonded keeps retreating, but her eyes don’t leave the scene before her for a second. Her stare is intense, dark almost, especially as it shifts to my right when Scotty rejoins our efforts with gritted teeth, lingering there before deliberately coming to rest on mine when she reaches the door.

Velvet and sin slinks into my mind on pitch-black smoke:

Watch him, Cooper. Keep an eye on Scotty.

And then she’s gone, leaving us to deal with the devastation left in her wake.

10

SCOTTY

In the bathroom connected to my bedroom in my Bonded chambers, I stare at my reflection. No expression on my banged-up face, I take in the discolouration with my good eye, slowly roving my gaze over the mess. I can hardly see out of my left one at all the swelling around it is so severe now.

Lifting my black pyjama T-shirt, I take in the matching black and blue staining my chest, my ribs, my abs.

Then I dig my fingers into the worst one by my hip.

Jaw clenching, I let the pain roll through me, a harsh breath leaving me.

Seeing Ezla today, actually seeing her—her true behaviour, some of what she’s really feeling, her goddamn stunning face—and being able to act naturally with her had helped with all the toxicity festering inside of me, if only for a moment. And fuck, I wanted to hold her so bad. To comfort her and to comfort myself. To soak her in, to just finally have the woman I love close to me in the way I’ve wanted from day one, in a way I think she might soon allow, if she wouldn’t already.

But I know I don’t deserve it. I need to prove myself before I can lay a finger on her again. Right now, she deserves better than what I’ve given her, what I haven’t been able to. She needs protection from Joseph and care, and I’m clearly not as equipped as I thought I was to give her either of those. When they’re able to without hidden cameras about, her other four Bonds can give her what she needs; they can give her all of themselves where I can’t. I’m not dumping my baggage on her and giving her half a man.

Air is pulled harshly between my teeth when I press too hard on my aching stomach.

Taking my hand away, I blow out a breath before bending down to open the cupboard under the sink. My eyes land on the Avritabs up front and pause there as I debate with myself.

I’ve also been given some pills to speed up my healing, but I admittedly haven’t been taking them. Both containers have remained untouched since the dose I took in the infirmary, even after I promised Tiger I’d take some.

I realise it’s incredibly foolish when I’m trying to do better for my Bonded and brothers, even more so when Game 4 is right around the corner. But I need to feel it—the pain. I need to feel the agony my failure has caused in those closest to me. I need it simply because I know I deserve it, and it’s only fair.

Shaking my head, I close the cupboard before leaving the bathroom. Scrubbing a palm over my face, I look up—

And freeze in place.

“I am very unhappy with you, my sensible one.”