Page 32 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

“NO!”

Ezla’s volcanic shout is almost as loud as the resounding BOOM! as Tiger and Alby are launched off their jets and a blinding flash of heat sears my vision. Green pixels explode everywhere, and an echoing gasp from the audience down below travels up to meet us.

Debilitating terror pounds down the bond from Vengeance.

“TIGER! ALBY!” Scotty roars, unable to help them as Player 84 uses his distraction to jump onto his jet and tackle him.

“Tate, go!” I bellow, and he’s already moving.

Except it’s not in the right direction.

Or maybe it is. Because as searing pain floods the bond and my eyes lock on Ezla again, my ears ring to muffle all my brothers’ distraught cries, the force of Tate’s shaking my own body. I feel the blood drain from my face as I take in the scene before me.

Never before has Ezla been hurt badly in her five previous years in The Bonding Games. Never, not even when she was just thirteen years old, did she get more than a minor injury.

But now, a long curved sword is jammed clean through her middle, the hilt meeting her back and the lethally sharp crimson energy coming out through her stomach.

I think she’s in as much shock as I am, stunned that she, the Champion, has been struck like this, because she’s unmoving, completely motionless.

Aider is a fucking maniac under the polished front he puts on. I mean, he just fucking blew himself up. But he’s incredibly intelligent, and a downside of letting the world see the growing relationships in our Bonded group is that people that are cunning enough to will exploit that when they can. And that’s exactly what Aider’s just done. He’s used Ezla’s care for Alby and Tiger against her. Used the only thing that could possibly capture her attention when she’s in the middle of battle. She turned her back on her opponent for them.

With a shove, Player 87 pushes Ezla off his blade.

The Bonding Games Champion tips off the edge of his jet as if in slow motion and drops down to the concrete below.

13

SCOTTY

“Get out.”

The Game Master stares at me in a blend of disbelief and bitter fury. Recovering after a moment, he plants an empathetic look on his ruddy face. “Young man, I understand you are upset, but this is my daughter. How do you think I am feeling?”

“I said . . . Get. Out.” Staring him down, I lower my voice. “Before I kill you.”

Nostrils flaring as he stands just inside the door of the infirmary, Joseph’s plain brown eyes shift around the large white room, forcing a stiff smile onto his face for the workers in here.

I step to the side to block his view of Ezla and two of my brothers as they lie motionless on three separate beds. They’re on their backs with serene expressions on their sleeping faces, but nothing about this situation is peaceful.

“Game Master.”

The dark-skinned nurse speaks before he can attempt to strike me down with the tornado he was no doubt planning to release from his mouth upon its angry opening. Jaw stiff, I spare a brief glance to my right, stepping to the side to give the woman room as she continues, though I can’t keep my glare from Joseph for long.

“A pleasure, as always,” she says with a tranquil quality to her tone and facial expression, and the power-hungry dickhead eats her treatment up as she dips her head at him in reverence. Straightening his blackish-red-accented suit jacket and lifting his chin, he seems to remember a beat too late that he’s supposed to act humble and charming, and he pastes on a warm smile. One that immediately falters when the woman continues. “However, I must say, I think you should respect this man’s wishes. Bonded form very close connections with those in their group, and the panic and distress are on much higher levels than an average couple’s. It is best to allow those linked to each other as they are to soak up each other’s presence after such high-stress situations. Miss Zefron is well taken care of in here by us and her Bonds, you do not need to worry. And she is perfectly stable; the Avri got to her and her two injured Bonds just in time.”

Joseph’s jaw ticks, and his smile is evidently strained now as he manages in a somewhat placid tone, “Yes. I understand how that would be the case when Bonded care for each other so very much.”

Shit.

His nearly gritted words have a chill settling into my marrow, but there’s staff in here, so I can only hope my display of protectiveness can be taken for a show I’m putting on for them. Because right now, I really can’t cover up all the emotions spilling from me, and there’s no fucking way I’m letting him take a step further into this room.

If he truly cared about Ezla’s well-being in the way he should in the first place, he wouldn’t be here so late. It’s midday now, and he was too busy doing damage control when the audience surrounding The Courtyard was sent into complete and utter disarray when her lithe figure slammed into the ground last night with a heavy thud of her helmet to match those of Alby’s and Tiger’s.

They’ve not woken up since.

Even with Avri, it’s a miracle they actually survived that, and my heart is still fucking pounding, my skin growing clammy as I remember the absolute, all-consuming horror that had taken over me to see two of my brothers plunging straight down to the unforgiving concrete, neither able to remanifest their jets with them only recently blown to pieces by an insane, sadistic man who’s still intent on causing Alby pain after all these years.

And those feelings were even worse with my Bonded.