Page 68 of Broken Ties
Needless to say, by the time I’m standing before my Bond’s dorm room door, I’m a complete wreck. My phone is still buzzing insistently in my pocket. As much as I want to turn the stupid thing off, the idea of cutting myself off from a potential lead on Toby or anything that could get us even an inch closer to dealing with the Resistance turns my stomach, so I have to just put up with it, but my skin is itching with the need to Shift. A thousand predators claw at me to be let out, to rip and slice and maim until the killing need dissipates.
My Bond opens the door while I’m still grappling, only second after my eyes Shifted back from the gold-white glow that sets me apart from the other Shifters in our community. The anomaly that was ‘forgivable’ right up until my blood matched me into the monstrous Draven Bond Group.
The way she stops and stares at me for a second has an unsettling feeling writhing in my stomach.I’m worried that maybe she saw the color and it’s only added to her list of reasons I’m not worthy of her. Then she swallows and drops her chin, shuffling out of her room and locking the door behind her like this isn’t completely uncharacteristic of her.
She doesn’t say a word to me.
Silence isn’t uncommon between us, but instead of the usual haughty air she wraps herself in that drives me slowly out of my mind, she’s just quiet. When I hold doors open for her along the way, she nods to me in thanks and then surveys the busyhall like she’s looking for a Resistance sleeper agent among the kids I grew up with. I mean, I am too, but I’ve been this way for months. From the second she arrived at Draven, I’ve been hyper-aware of every Gifted in her proximity and been ready to tear their throats out the second they mean her any harm, Shifted or not.
After a few more quick glances in her direction, a lump starts to grow steadily in the back of my throat. There’s nothing contentious about her right now. It doesn’t sound like much, but the only time my Bond isn’t on the offensive is when she’s with Sage, and only when they’re alone—or think they are, at least. It’s the first time ever that she’s been like that in my presence. She’s not sullen or irritated, clearly not angry or scared, but there isn’t any pity in her eyes either, and I was starting to think someone’s told her about Toby.
Busy with these thoughts, I almost miss it.
Fuck, I’m so far in my own head right now that I almost miss the greatest, most world-shattering thing to ever happen.
Her bond reaches out to me.
Barely a feeling, like a feather-light brush that’s more air than contact, it seeks out my bond in an age-old bid for connection and reassurance that I’ve only ever heard about. Jolting on my feet, I can only gape down at her like an idiot. I didn’t realize just how hopeless I’ve become about this entire mess until now, because that tiny, fragile, fleeting brush makes me want to break down and start weeping.
Her bond is gone before I even have the chance to process what was happening, and my own bond instantly chases after it, drenching me in a wave of frigid indignation that we missed out on that connection. Fuck, it almost cripples me, the tight leash of my control stretched beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before, and by the time I know I’m good, I’m practically sweating.
It takes me a second to talk it down before I can finally pry my mouth open. “Three more Gifted were taken last night from one of the gated communities about twenty minutes from here. My cousin was one of them.”
Now she panics.
Not just a little bit, she panics in the way only a Gifted can. It’s as though her bond sends out a distress call, a soundless alarm radiating out of her that is impossible to explain but is also entirely unforgettable. My bond rushes to answer it, writhing in rage at the taste of her fear and the way it thickens the air around us both to coat my lungs with every passing breath. The same girl who stared the pond bitch down like it was nothing just last week is now on the brink of a Gift slip.
Except, according to my Bond, she doesn’t have one.
Glancing down at her panicked face, her wide eyes only meet mine for a second before they dart away. There are too many people crammed in here to stop and talk, no matter how desperately I want to know what she’s thinking, so instead I make a beeline for the dining hall. Keeping my own gaze lowered as well, my focus stays fixed on dodging bodies and protecting my Bond from the early morning rush.
By the time we’re sitting across from each other with full plates, her fear is gone, and thank god for that. The dining hall is the only place on campus quiet at this time of day, yet every eye in here is on us and a wide perimeter is held around our table as the other students find their own seats. Whispers and murmurs are less respectful, the distance doing nothing to hide them, but no one will meet my eye as I keep tabs on who’s here.
The interest of the room might be entirely on our table, but it’s clearly on my account for once. No one tries to approach us outright but a few of my football teammates send me looks like they want to come speak to me but won’t with my Bond here. It’s like she’s a shield for me today, instead of me protecting her, anddespite how completely ass-backward that is, I’m comforted by it.
She doesn’t know any of the details either, but she’s not prying. The one person I wouldn’t mind asking me, that I might even want questioning me, but instead she’s called a timeout on her defensive tactics to give me space to breathe. It’s a kindness I wasn’t expecting, not when none of the other students are even giving me that despite claiming they’re my friends.
Maybe I’m not as pathetic as I first thought… maybe there’s hope for this Bond after all.
After I finish my first plate, I stop to look my Bond over instead of immediately going for seconds like I usually would. She’s eating slower than usual, still glancing around us to keep watch, but she’s barely even looking at me. I like that she’s clearly protecting me in what little way she can, but the longer her gaze stays averted the more desperate I get to have her attention.
It makes me reckless, but I’ve already been burned by my impulses once today, what’s once more when I’m already this low?
I clear my throat and aim for a neutral tone, despite the accusation in my words. “When you first disappeared… we all thought you were taken. There’d been a lot of clusters in the area and, well, I was too young to know the details but my parents were both on the Council, so I heard enough to be scared for you. Every time we heard about bodies showing up, I thought it was you. Every time there was news about kids showing up brainwashed, fuck, I hoped it was you so we could get you home and save you. All that time, you were just hanging out in some city, living whatever life you wanted.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes so briefly that I almost think I’m imagining it. I shouldn’t start shit with her, not like this, not if I want to get to the bottom of everything, but the way she’s actingtoday has me confused as hell. I don’t know if she still hates me, if she’s resigned to staying here, or if she’s too scared of the Resistance to try leaving again.
She swallows roughly, but her answer is the kind that only comes from the deeply held truths, the ones that keep you up at night and will never really heal. “You know I was in the hospital because of a car accident, right? My entire family died in it. I was fourteen and completely alone in the world. I was terrified. It’s not like I just skipped away into the sunset to live a happy and merry life by myself. Maybe you should try to see past your own story for once and things might go a little better between us.”
Story.
That cuts like a fucking knife, straight down to the bone and intensifying with every breath until my lungs burn. My teeth clench until my jaw aches, and for once, it’s not a reaction to stop my Shift, because every one of the most blood-thirsty predators lurking under my skin is writhing in pain at this new, horrifying rejection.
When I’m sure I’m not going to scream or puke at the mess of emotions threatening to pour out of me, I swallow to shift the lump in my throat, but it doesn’t budge. I glance around, but luckily it’s still a ghost town in here.
“North told my entire family that you’d been spotted in Florida, working in a record shop, without any markings or ties to the Resistance. He made it clear that all signs pointed to you just running away. How exactly am I supposed to just look past that?”
Her eyes harden as she shrugs. “How would you take it if your whole family died in a single accident? If they were ripped away like that?”