Page 5 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

The absolute silence that follows his promise is suffocating.

And Scotty says, never breaking eye contact. “You aren’t laying a hand on yourself or the rest of our brothers, Tate. But if that happens, if I fail . . . I’ll accept whatever punishment you believe I’m deserving of with open arms.”

3

SCOTTY

All that can be heard in our Bonded chambers is the gentle scrape of cutlery across plates and the quiet clink of glasses. No one’s spoken since my honest claim in response to Tate’s equally honest promise. I think everyone’s lost in their own heads in the other room. I know I am. I could hardly even feel the guilt I should have when Tiger looked at me so heartbroken, so betrayed, when I gave Tate permission to end me if I don’t manage to save Ezla.

Yet all the crappy feelings rush in now as I think about how I can’t make myself take those words back.

I can’t live without my Bonded.

Even if I could, the guilt of my failure would kill me eventually. And how would I be able to take care of my brothers if I couldn’t even take care of the woman I love?

Sitting alone in our Bonded bedroom while everyone continues to eat at the dining table, I bring the golden satin clenched in my fist to my nose, inhaling the lingering hot-cinnamon scent with a hint of smokiness to it. The gold that had adorned Ezla’s body last night is all that’s left of her in here, and without moving from my hunched position on the edge of our bed, head hanging low, I shift my gaze to the pile of glinting jewellery that Tiger so eagerly collected only hours ago. My grip tightens on the dress as the memories of mine and Ezla’s time together rush through me.

Ezla, Love, are you okay? Just give me a sign. Anything. Tell me you’re alright. Or even tell me that you hate me, that I’m an asshole for what I said to you.

I try to push the words her way, as I’ve been attempting for the past ten minutes, but they meet a familiar impenetrable wall that I’d hoped to see less of after last night.

A gentle swoosh of taalk glides through the air.

Soft footsteps sound, but I don’t bother to look at who enters the room. I’m as perceptive to my new brothers as I am to my blood one.

“I need some time alone, Cooper.”

“And I need Vengeance back, but we can’t all get what we want, can we?”

Brows dipping low, I slide a glare up to find a steady deep russet gaze fixed on me. The way he spoke sounded provoking, but there’s none of that on his face. Not much of anything, really. I can tell he’s studying me, though, and it’s a little unnerving.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asks.

“If you’re here to—”

“You did, didn’t you?” he interrupts, coming to sit beside me on the end of the bed. “I don’t blame you. Fuck knows I’m not staying around if we fail her.” He glances down at the liquid-like material in my hand, then away again as if the sight alone is too painful, jaw tensing. “But I also refuse to let that be an option. We won’t fail her. And you have to remember that it is a we. I know everyone always acts like everything’s on you, and I’m also aware that you like carrying so much for those you care about . . . But this isn’t on you, Scotty. And no one could take on all you’re trying to without being completely crushed.”

“I’m not trying to play hero. This is my role in the group.”

He raises a dark brow, and I feel like said roles are currently reversed. “We don’t have specified jobs here, you know.”

I blow out a heavy sigh and scrub a hand over my face. Wincing at the pressure put on the mess made of the skin there, I drop that hand a moment later. “You know what I mean.”

He’s silent for a moment before he says, “Ezla would want you to relax.”

Some incredulity bleeds into the expression I turn on him. “In what world are you associating the word ‘relax’ with our Bonded?”

Cooper snorts. “Okay, yeah, well, things have changed now.”

And we both sober instantly as the truth of that statement sinks in.

“Just . . . think about it this way, then—you don’t take care of yourself, there will be nothing left to give Ezla. You actually need to be in working condition in order to help her.”

“I am in working condition.”

“Right,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Tell that to the bruises and cuts all over you. And I’d like to hear you say that in a week’s time when you’re passed out on the floor from exhaustion.”

Dismissing the first part of that, I reply, “We’ll have Ezla back before then. She still needs to train.”