Page 29 of Broken Ties
“And I hate you for it. I’m fucking disgusted by the sight of you, standing there, asking me to play along with your little charades?—”
Her eyes flare as she cuts me off. “This isn’t a game, Atlas. This is your life! If you care so little for it, then why have I spent all this time protecting you?”
I catch myself at the last second, lowering my voice so we don’t attract any attention, but it only makes my reply come out in a hiss. “I didn’t ask you to! I didn’t ask for any of this, all I wanted was my Bond, and you let them take her. You knew who she was and you fucking gave her to them! She was a child?—”
She cuts me off with a sob, “So were you, Atlas! My child, my son, my future, about to be sacrificed, and for what? Some little Death Dealing girl from some bloodline no one gives a fuck about? No. No, I’ve endured too much, I’ve sacrificed too much?—”
“You sacrificed me, Mom! You sacrificedus, because I willneverforgive you. I’ll never be able to look at you without seeing the monster you really are.”
She scoffs, turning on her heel in a sharp motion. “She’s the monster. I’ve killed a handful of people for threatening my son, but that girl? She’s killed hundreds… thousands, even. If you’re judging me, you’re a hypocrite, just like your father.”
Her words sting like a slap despite how low my opinion of her is, probably because she knows my father better than any other. If there’s anyone who can judge how many of his traits I’ve inherited, it’s her, and my skin crawls with shame.
When I don’t reply, her shoulders straighten as though she’s pulling herself together and she all but snarls over her shoulder, “They’re sending the Amp to draw out the rest of the Bond Group. Davies doesn’t know the connection yet, but he’s guessed they’ve found her. It’s only a matter of time before they’re all dead. Atlas, use your head!”
My blood chills at the mention of that Gifted, but my mother doesn’t notice or wait around to see if I follow her. She stalks off and makes her way hastily back up the steps, as though we’ve argued about my underage drinking or some other banal digression instead of the life of my Bond. I guess for her, it’s a tired and bothersome disagreement, while I’m forced to listen to her belittle the woman I’ve waited my entire life for, who never gave her torturers my name and protected my identity no matter the pain and violence they enacted on her.
The girl who didn’t break.
It's not the first time I’ve had this argument with my mother, and if I'm stuck here for much longer, I'm sure it won't be the last. I'm sure she’ll effortlessly transition back into the doting mother who passes off her son’s shortcomings however she needs to, my safety her only concern.
My father may look at me and only see himself, but my mother looks at me and sees a future she can control. Her reasoning may be more noble, but no matter how much a light shines through the bars, a cage is still a cage.
I wait until she’s back in the building before I send my Bond one last text for the night, my head bowed in resignation as my fingers almost tremble with unspent emotions and fears of what’s to come. It’s not what I want to say, not even close to the depth of what I feel for her, but it’s the small piece of myself I can offer her for now.
I miss you, Oli.
TEN
GRYPHON
“Look alive, Alpha Team; we’re Transporting in three… two… one?—”
It doesn't matter how many times I’ve endured being moved like this or that Kieran is the best Transporter we have, my gut still revolts viciously as the ground beneath my feet disappears only to reform almost instantaneously. The problem is, there’s no time to swallow the bile down or even get my bearings.
Gunshots ring out as bullets rain down on us from at least a dozen different shooters, the hot sting of one grazing my arm even as I dive for cover, and the chorus of thuds around me are thankfully only followed by the grunts of impact and not screaming from the pain of wounds. We’re good, just so long as none have been killed instantly.
It's usually far easier for me to get a read on where my team is but as the cacophony of thoughts all hit me at once, my mind doesn’t just struggle, it shuts down completely. My vision whites out as though I've taken a physical blow, overwhelmed to the point of a ghost-like pain in my head, something I’m not actually feeling, though my body reacts as though I’m experiencing excruciating torture.
It's not usually like this; even as chaotic as the fields of conflict always are, I’m able to keep my wits about me.
There’s something else out here with us.
When North called me into an emergency response briefing, this was the last thing I expected to happen. It hasn't been a secret that the Resistance has escalated, their desperation obvious, though we still haven't been able to pinpoint what has caused such a rapid devolution. With many of our resources currently working on guarding Draven and the many Gifted there, we surmised that the attack on the small town in California on the border to Mexico was a tactic to draw us out. They’d crafted it well, dozens of Gifted taken, a number of high profile community members among them, and we had no choice but to respond.
Now, we’ve fallen into the trap they’ve set for us.
As the pressure in my head doubles,triples, grows tenfold, I can’t string a thought together, let alone make a plan to get us out of here. The only scrap of information I can process is the intense need to get this to stop and that Icannotgive in to it. No matter how painful, or the severity of the damage, I can’t let it kill me. My team would be a significant loss in the fight against the Resistance, butmyloss would be catastrophic. It's not arrogant to think so either.
I can do things no other Neuro on record can, and I can do them all at once. Without me, North is exposed and left vulnerable to the type of manipulations my Secondary Gift renders moot. I vet every staff member, every student, every operative. I’m the first and last line of defense for our Bond Group, and I’m the only one who knows that our Bond is lying about why she left us.
Despite myself, I’m starting to think she never wanted to in the first place.
“Aarav, get to Shore now; he’s been hit. Harrison, cover him and report. Winslow and Joshi, get a Shield up and stretch it as far as you can.”
A gasping breath finally wrenches from my chest at Kieran’s orders and my head swims at the sudden flood of oxygen. No matter how fucked I am right now, I can still grasp at the familiarity of his voice as he effortlessly steps in, my second-in-command and one of my most trusted friends. I recognize the words he’s saying but not the true gravity of the situation. Nothing feels real beyond my own compromised state, as if I’m trapped in a frosted-glass box while reality is the muted and obscured view outside.
Another gasping breath and I reach a shaking hand up to press my fingertips against my temple but there's no sign of damage there, no wound from a blow or a bullet I somehow didn’t realize I’d been hit with. With the third breath in, I find the thoughts rushing into my mind are no longer so loud that they drown out the sounds around me. Two more breaths and the thoughts start to take form more clearly, function returning despite the pressure holding true.