Page 7 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Chest heaving, I war with myself. I’m hearing what he’s saying, but . . . “I can’t. We can’t leave her with him, Scotty,” I grind out. “I’m— Fuck, my head’s a mess.” My fist knocks against my temple none too gently, the armoury stick in it digging into my palm, and my overdramatic brother levels me with a look full of concern. “I fucking can’t. I need her, and I need her safe.”

“I understand—I do. But we can’t do anything until we know exactly what’s happening, and I can’t reach Ezla through the bond. So she either needs to open it up for us, or we need to get her back here so we can understand exactly what went down before we woke up this morning.”

“But what if he’s touching her?”

Scotty’s grip on me yanks me backwards again when I try to storm off once more as that thought infects my mind more and more, the fear becoming greater and greater until I can’t contain it any longer, and I growl at him like a fucking rabid animal. “You’re keeping me from my Havoc. No one keeps me from my—”

“Tate, please.”

I still at the crack of his voice.

Taking his hand off me, it runs through his hair, which has been abnormally messy since this morning—even his helmet never ruins his default flawlessly tidy style. Not once has he bothered to fix it. “Please, Tate. I don’t know what else I can do. And I can’t think about what she might be going through right now, because then I’ll be storming the Techtis Council building right along with you, and that could do far more damage than help. I promise you, we’ll get her back, but we can’t do anything but wait right now.” He pauses before saying, “Just a few more hours. Just a few more hours, and then we’ll head to the Training Centre, and we’ll see her again.”

“And what if we don’t?” I demand, voice rough.

The ridge of his throat moves with his thick swallow. “Then I guess we’re storming the home of The Council.”

***

“Where is she?” I snap.

“We still have five more minutes, Tate. You know she’s always here on the dot,” Scotty sighs, but I’m not fucking blind. He’s openly leaking anxiety.

Arms trembling violently from the force my fists ball, I spit out through my gnashing teeth, “If she’s not here, then—”

“She will be.” Scotty’s voice is firmer this time, and I’m probably pissing him off, but I couldn’t give two flying shits. The only reason I don’t immediately bite his head off is because I catch Alby and Tiger shifting anxiously in my peripheral, and oddly enough, that just doesn’t sit right with me. It doesn’t feel too good to see Tiger without his signature sunbeams, and I realise me constantly airing my frustrations out loud has seemed to steadily pull on Alby’s regular nervousness and dragged it so far to the forefront, he appears as though a slight breeze would knock him over. Even Cooper’s kept his mouth shut, dickish remarks nowhere to be found.

So I keep the rest of my raving-mad feelings inside as I sear my eyes into the clear double doors of the Training Centre, impatience growing and growing with every second that passes by and my baby doesn’t walk through them.

After another minute, I can’t do it anymore. “I’m going to blow up the fucki—”

Every inch of me stills, the other four men straightening, too, as an inky-crimson-embellished figure appears in the distance. I can’t tear my eyes away, can’t get any air into me, either, but in the corner of my vision, I notice Cooper stepping forwards at once—before Scotty bars an arm across his chest, and he stills just as fast. No one makes a sound, and somehow, I manage not to move.

There’s no way I’m saying one cruel thing to my girl. I can’t do it. Luckily, I don’t need to when Cooper and Scotty have agreed to take on that role for any cameras Joseph may be watching us through—we’re still not sure they’re definitely here, but none of us wanted to risk it. But I do need to hold myself back, keep my urges in, according to Scotty. And I have enough intelligence, more than enough care for my Bonded’s safety, and just enough self-restraint to go through with my promise to not scoop Havoc up when she walks through those clear taalk doors. We’ve collectively agreed that acting as though we’re giving in to Joseph’s desires when we’re so out in the open is the only option here when we don’t have more information on the matter, so every move I make, I have to ensure it would incite the least anger possible in that piece of shit.

Doesn’t mean I have to behave completely, though. We need to mollify the Game Master while also not giving in so easily that our behaviour appears suspicious.

Havoc, Havoc, Havoc, Havoc . . .

There’s no indication that she hears me when she stops in front of us, and I despise this. Truly fucking loathe it. We should be bathing in the afterglow of our first time together, but instead, I’m here wondering if me snatching Havoc up would be a good idea to keep my behaviour similar enough to yesterday in our Bonded chambers, or if doing that would be too much and push Joseph to do something unthinkable.

“Players,” that robotically modified voice greets coldly.

It feels like my heart’s made of glass and she’s just sunk a dart right into the middle of it with her immaculate aim. Don’t fucking care if it sounds dramatic, I could swear I feel cracks spiderwebbing out from where the sharp tip struck.

Is she not going to call us by our names anymore? How the fuck am I meant to cope with that again?

“Ezla.” Scotty is the first to part the cloying silence that had followed her greeting. The word is stiff on his tongue, the syllables said as if he doesn’t like the taste of them, and I battle with myself not to go over to him and impair the vision of his right eye so that he has a matching set of shiners on his face. His helmet’s tucked under his arm like the rest of ours are, too, so I’d have a clear shot.

“Have a nice time last night?”

At Cooper’s sneering question, the next exhale of mine mirrors the wind in a motherfucking hurricane, and it earns a slight tilt of Havoc’s helmet my way. It’s subtle enough for no one else to notice, but it calms me enough, just for a moment, as I imagine her checking in on me, to allow me to see the true meaning behind those words: my brother’s probing, attempting to find out if what we feared has happened, if she’s okay.

“Delightful. I am still wonderfully sore. Thank you for asking.”

Two breaths hitching tells me Tiger and Alby are struggling to hold back sobs, and Scotty’s jaw turns to stone as he looks away. Cooper rubs a palm over his mouth, and hopefully any invisible cameras missed the fine tremor in his lips before they were hidden.

“Come,” Ezla says without inflection before I can do something stupid and let the vengeful wrath tainting my vision red take over.