Page 66 of Broken Ties
It’s an attempt at neutrality, and she pulls a face as she sits down on her bed, the springs squeaking in an offensive way. “She wasn’t that bad.”
Bravado.
From any other Gifted, I wouldn’t even need my Gift to know that’s all that statement is and yet—truth.
Will I ever manage to know this Bond of mine fully? Will she ever stop revealing new layers of complicated and unexpected reactions to things that throw me off center? Giftless, or at least pretending to be, and yet she didn’t find the horror of the maze ‘that bad’?
I lean back against the door, feigning nonchalance as if I’m not desperate for her answers. “She feeds on fear. Most Gifted go up against her absolutely shitting themselves because she becomes the worst nightmare they’ve ever had to live through. You gave her nothing, even after she spooked you. That’s not a normal response.”
Her face hardens instantly, as though a tonne of bricks suddenly stack together into a wall between us.“I never claimed I was normal.”
That wall and defense makes me reckless, my frustration at this stalemate boiling over. The image of that pit of bones is still lingering in my mind and the idea of who, or what, could’ve caused mass deaths at that scale without leaving a trace isn’t just an obscure fear I’m fixating on because of my protective Bond instincts.
The Central Bond of the feared and monstrous Draven Bond Group isalwaysgoing to be a target. How many Gifted wantthis headstrong, determined, beautiful, perfect Bond of mine to lie dead in a pit just like that one until there’s no memories left of her as well? How big is the target on her back going to grow while we’re too busy arguing over the actions of her past?
How long will it be before she slips through my fingers again?
My voice practically trembles out of me. “I think you made a mistake, and instead of owning up to it and making amends, you’ve doubled down on it. You should have trusted us… whatever happened in that hospital room that made you run away, you should have run to us instead.”
My Gift of the Truth has always relied on conscious, verbal interactions. I can look into the minds of others to dig for information, to sift through memories and find out whatever I need to know that way, but that is my primary Gift being put to work. I know this for sure, because while that takes some work and deduction on my part, my incidental Gift is a sensory response.
The taste of ash on my tongue for a lie.
The euphoria of unadulterated, intentional truth.
I’ve never felt the bone-chilling surety of fear before. I didn’t even know that counted as a truth, but there’s no question of which Gift is picking up on my Bond’s terror right now.
She hasn’t spoken a word.
It’s been more than a decade since I figured out the limits of my Gift and my world seems to tilt on its axis. The moment our eyes meet, the fight leaves her in a rush, the permanent mask fixed over her features shattering instantly. If I’d thought she looked exhausted when I arrived, it has nothing on the aching weariness that clings desperately to her. Again, my bond ripples in my chest as if it’s replying. I’ve never known it to be so responsive, even to her, but there’s an undeniable fury brewing at the state she’s in now.
Her eyes fill with tears but her voice is determined, brimming withhertruth that pours into me like a drug. “Those opinions of yours tell me I did the right thing, and I’m not pissed about it. You can hate me all you like because at least you’re fucking breathing, Gryphon. Please leave, I’m still exhausted from the Healing and I can’t do this right now.”
With a curt nod, I do as she says and leave even as my bond thrums with vindication. It’s not a good thing to find out that someone is threatening my Bond… or that something spooked her. But it’s the first time she’s confirmed, even slightly, that she’s worried about her Bonds. Her fears of our safety is what’s driving her away from us all, I’d bet my life on it.
If I find out what happened, I’ll know how to fix this broken Bond Group of ours.
I wait until I hear that pathetic excuse for a lock clicking behind me before I dig out my phone to organize a guard to stand at the door until I can get a better lock on it only to find a dozen missed calls from North and a text from Vivian.
The Resistance have retaliated.
More Gifted are gone.
TWENTY-ONE
GABE
With that tiny slip of paper handed over at a football game, my cousin Toby has changed the course of the war.
I might not know it for sure, but the writhing in the pit of my stomach as I watch the TacTeams mobilize and deploy feels pretty convincing to me. North doesn’t give me all of the details, but finding out that the seemingly random list of numbers were coordinates of attacks and a mass grave is jarring. How he stumbled upon information like that is baffling, but Nox is chomping at the bit to question him.
Maybe it’s nostalgia or some lasting guilt over the state of my own decimated family, but when I leave the Training Center I go back to sleep in my childhood room for the night. I regret it the second my head hits the pillow, as if the place is full of ghosts, and it takes me forever to fall asleep.
Even knowing that the Resistance is amping up their attacks and that things are only going to get worse for us all, I’m rendered absolutely useless when Kieran Black arrives at my parents’ door to tell me that Toby was abducted by the Resistance moments before they got to him.
It’s the last thing I was expecting when I open the door, already scowling at the fact the doorbell is even chiming at fiveam on a Monday. I shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be the one telling me, and Toby shouldn’t be the Gifted taken. None of this makes any sense to me, and the wave of confusion makes my stomach ache until I finally arch toward the perfectly manicured bushes and puke. The violent wretching is so bad that by the time it’s over, tears run down my face that I’m certain aren’t real tears because there isn’t any emotion left in me. Nope, they’re all pooling around the roses my dad bought for my mom, leeching into the mulch to dry and poison the roots with more of the terror from this stupid and pointless conflict.
The second the tremors stop and my mind switches back on, my only thought is my Bond.