Page 19 of Broken Ties
My Bond isn’t one of them.
I don't bother calling out for help, or to explain myself to the rest of my team, I just turn on my heel and sprint back into the forest. My bond writhes in anger in my gut, but luckily, I don't have to run far or look hard. I almost trip over her instead.
Lying in the middle of the path, unconscious in a heap, my Bond is out cold. Even with all the sound I’m making, she doesn’t rouse at all. My wet sneakers slap against the well-worn path and my chest heaves as I tear toward her, but even as I drop to my knees at her side, she doesn’t even twitch.
“Jesus, I guess she really did push herself too far. I passed out my first time on this course, too, it’s nothing to worry about. I'm sure she'll be okay, Ardern. We’ll get her to the med bay.”
I can barely process Hannah’s calm reassurances, my mind is swirling in a panic and bile creeps up my throat. Reaching down to brush her hair away from her face to get a better look at her, I pause just before my fingers brush her skin. She wants nothing to do with any of us and made it clear she’d rather die than touch us. Is it okay for me to touch her now that she needs help? Should I get someone else to do it instead?
Hannah crouches down on her other side and moves her hair for me, not commenting on the way I've locked up, but I startle as she hisses out a breath.
“Jesus fucking Christ, who the fuck did that to her?”
A purple mottled bruise is quickly forming on her temple, obviously fresh as the swelling grows before our eyes. Hannah very gently lifts her hand to form a loose fist, letting it hover over the bruise and finding it the right size and shape.
A thousand different predators wake beneath my skin.
My Shift can't decide which one it wants to go with, my skin rippling as the change begins but can't take hold at my indecision. Matt hisses out a warning to Hannah, grabbing her by the arms and hauling her away from my Bond and I, but I can't reassure him that I'm fine because I’m so far from in control. Caged by some invisible force, the fury and panic floods me until there’s only one question left.
Who the fuck has harmed my Bond?
Vengeance and violence consume me, and without any intentions of fighting my instincts, I feel my bones begin to snap and respond, but without a single beast at the helm, it's a dangerous position to be in. I've never experienced this state of flux before, never even thought it was possible, and my panic triples. A hum starts up in my ears and grows louder with every heartbeat, a mix of the murmurs around me and my blood rushing through my veins. My head feels as though it’ll burst until, finally, one voice cuts through the rest.
“Ha! The reject is down! Get your power boost while she’s out, Gabe. The cocktease will just keep playing games with you otherwise.”
SEVEN
NORTH
“The Council would like some reassurances that you’ll have the girl Bonded and under control soon, Draven.”
I've always prided myself on my ability to keep my cool. Even as a child, my control over my Gift and my bond was unprecedented, mostly thanks to my mother’s controlling ways, but I often took it for granted. My father spent years drowning in his frustrations at my supposed nonchalance, knowing that his own power was a fraction of what he could feel growing within me and fearing the Draven name being tarnished if my Gift was someday unwittingly unleashed at full power.
His control slip certainly sobered my confidence some, but it took finding Nox to truly learn that lesson. Discovering the abuse my brother had suffered at the hands of his disgusting mother had triggered a response from me that couldn’t be stopped, even if I wanted to, and was a brutal lesson of the real dangers of my Gift uncontrolled. Though I feel no regret for Emmaline’s violent death, it still drummed home to me the true gravity of being both a Top Tier Giftedanda Death Dealer.
As the circle of black smoke circles my wrist under the table, I must accept that I’ve become my father’s greatest fear.
Council meetings rarely have a full table in attendance, but those desperately seeking more power and prestige frequent them in hopes of advancement, and today is no different. Of the nine Gifted waiting on my retort, only two are loyal enough to be called allies, and only Alexander Benson has the backbone to speak up for me and the sense to avoid making a fool of himself while doing so.
Hannity is a simpering idiot at the best of times.
Sharpe’s chosen line of attack isn’t a surprise. He spearheaded a campaign to lower the minimum Bonding age a few years ago, claiming his sons had found their Central Bond and shouldn’t be ‘forced to wait out the inevitable’. The Central Bond was fourteen, they were both seventeen, and sitting in on that discussion had provided me with a list of council members who I would never side with on any issue going forward.
Bonding was the very last thing on my mind when we found our fourteen-year-old Bond. Fuck, if I didn’t have the council climbing up my ass about ‘volatile Bond Groups’ and ‘the risks of an Unbonded Top Tier Gifted’, it still wouldn’t be the issue I’d be prioritizing right now. No matter how desperately my own bond is clawing at me to go to her, her safety is more important, and the Resistance is taking Gifted from the streets again.
Inara smirks briefly before lifting a coffee cup to her lips, a pathetic attempt at discretion, but her Central Bonded, Naya, looks far less amused. “Under control? An interesting take from a Central Bonded yourself, wouldn't you say? I’d have great concerns for the safety of our community if Draven held such views himself, especially with his position overseeing the Tactical Units.”
Alexander sends me a droll look when I turn in his direction, but even my strongest allies are intolerable to the writhing fury of my bond right now. It appears it views everyone as a threat.
Everyone but Nox.
Oleander Fallows has only been at Draven for a week and already I've had to talk my bond down from dozens of violent episodes. Begrudgingly, I have to admit that more than half of those responses were well-warranted, but that only made convincing the psychotic force within me all the more difficult.
Students whispering about her, professors emailing me with their concerns of having her in class without knowing what her Gift is, members of the community stopping me in the streets to enquire about the striking girl who I’ve brought here to live among them, all of them deserve death for daring to look at what ismine… or so my bond believes.
With a warning look at Sharpe, I force my tone to stay level, even if neutral is impossible for me right now. “I certainly don’t advocate for the deprivation of any Central Bond’s liberties, nor will I stoop to such behaviors within my own Bond Group. While we’re on the topic, thanks to your sudden fixation, let me make it clear to you all that I won’t be discussing my Central Bond with the council any further, unless there’s irrefutable evidence that she poses a danger to the Gifted community. It is my right to refuse access to my Central Bond… and to deal with any threats made toward her.”
Sharpe’s cheek twitches but I refuse to glance away from him for even a second, holding his gaze until he finally mutters a curse and drops his head.