Page 31 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Scotty attempts more gently than my own words but with tension threaded throughout, Love, do you mind getting back into formation? The V was your idea, remember? Intimidate, then separate and surround . . . ?

Ezla completely ignores the two of us, and Alby and Tiger are no help whatsoever; their eyes are huge as they zip along with us as we try to keep up with our Bonded, both of them awestruck as she lets out an evil cackle. The Players remaining alive are obviously more advanced, so there’s much less kills per Game from the third one onwards, but two bodies crash down in quick succession as a result of Vengeance’s wild attack.

“Player 19: Eliminated.”

“Player 6: Eliminated.”

Fuck, the first was from my school. He was the last other than me, and I didn’t even know his name.

Tate unsurprisingly doesn’t give two shits about his fellow EvTS 202 student as he licks his lips and sinks his teeth into the bottom one like he’s ravenous to tear into the feast that is Ezla.

My lungs deflate in relief, at least, when our Bonded starts to return to us now after having her fun. And I realise a little petulantly that I’d been feeling spikes of jealousy myself in the midst of all this with her letting the globe hear her laugh . . . no matter how demonically.

Christ, she’s ruined me.

So distracted by her and my motherfucking unwavering need for her after just witnessing more of her maliciousness and the way she relishes in the violence I’m supposed to despise so much, I’m caught entirely unawares when a blur of crimson slams into me.

The air is punched out of me as I’m thrown through the air, my Avri vacuuming back into the pads on my boots.

“COOPER!”

My name is a chorus of all my brothers’ voices as they whip their jets around in a flash.

But what really takes any breath I had remaining in me away, what has relief and happiness spilling through me in this heart-stopping moment, is the sharp spike of fear mixed in with staggering fury from my Bonded.

At least I know Ezla truly cares about me before I meet my brutal end on the concrete below.

***

Tate’s large hand seizes my bicep.

Grip bruising, the brother I’m always butting heads with hauls me up onto the seat that extends to make room for me. Front slamming into his back, I wheeze out a curse as I grip onto him.

He was much closer to me than Ezla since she’d been so far ahead having her fun, but I’d never expect him to be the one to save me. I’d have thought, especially after yesterday’s argument, that he might be inwardly pleased if something were to ever happen to one of us that would mean he gets more of our Bonded for himself, that he might even plot the paths to our demises himself. So to say I’m shocked is an understatement.

“Thanks, man,” I get out, heart racing like crazy from the near-death experience.

His grunt sounds just as angry as usual in response.

Then I can’t help myself, no sense of self-preservation when I know Tate only needs a minor prodding to be blown off the edge when he’s on it. And I have a feeling he’s right on the line of changing his mind and tossing me off his jet while claiming it was an accident. Tone low, I ask as he flies us back over to the others, “Why’d you do that?”

He’s quiet for a moment before he mutters, “Havoc.”

And that’s all he needs to say. He must’ve felt her alarm through the bond as well.

But I don’t have more time to think on what this means for our Bonded group because there’s madness all around—Aider and his bonded Exots are attacking my fucking woman and brothers. And if the way Ezla snarls and throws herself off her jet and onto Player 87’s is any indication, I’m thinking it must have been him who crashed into me.

“Ezla!” Alby shouts in a panic, even though we all know full well she can handle herself out here. But she doesn’t spare him a glance, too consumed in the fight, her armoury sticks out along with the man’s as they go at each other without holding back. The two of them are stood up, gradually edging towards the back of his jet, and a wave of anxiousness washes over me the closer the two of them get to the edge.

A hissed curse leaves me as Tate has to dodge a stray emerald-glowing bullet, my stomach evacuating my body at the sudden drop, and a quick glance to the right shows me two Evots furiously battling each other fifty feet away along with the rest of the Players scattered about in the air before I zip my gaze back in front of me.

Scotty’s jet is zipping around Player 84’s in a blur of green and red, but there’s not much bullets flying over there, both of them cautious about firing on each other when their Bonded groups are in such close quarters, while Alby and Tiger have ended up with Aider.

I know they’re both skilled, but I really don’t fucking like that asshole. He seems like the type to have too many underhand tactics up his sleeve, and he definitely is too smart to come at our group like this without a plan that he’s convinced could work.

Nerves winding up higher as Tate closes in on our Bonded, I start to say, “Tate, Ezla doesn’t need us. Go to Tiger and Al—”

Brilliant luminance lights up the night sky.