Page 69 of Broken Ties
She doesn’t know a thing about me, but her assumptions obviously paint a pathetic picture… Can I really blame her for that? In the few short weeks we’ve known each other, she’salready seen all of the worst parts of me, all of the most shameful and childish responses I hoped my Bond would never witness, but this feels different. Like I’ve finally accepted that this Bond of mine doesn’t deserve to see the pain I’m feeling now about losing more of my family, a reminder of the hole in my chest still gaping there after my dad’s death had destroyed me.
After a long moment of staring her down, I finally shove my plate away because there’s no chance I can eat anything else now. “I don’t have to imagine it. My dad was taken two years ago, and we found his mutilated body a week later. My mom stepped down from the council the next day, but she’s still never really come home. If you’re asking me to look past my story, then maybe you should look past yours as well.”
She doesn’t like that.
She stands and slings her bag over her shoulder, stomping off without checking that I’m following. Obviously I am, like a fucking lost puppy, and I have to remind myself of the danger we’re all in to stop myself from just staring at the toes of my sneakers in a sulk. It only takes me a minute to slide the mask back over my features, the easy smile as I acknowledge the looks of sympathy from my football teammates as we pass them. They, at least, are genuine and keep their distance with little more than a careful look at my Bond charging through the hallway.
Sage is already waiting at our Econ class, her eyes flicking between us like she’s trying to figure out what’s going on, and it only gets worse when I take the seat next to my Bond instead of leaving a distance like I usually do. I could lie and say it’s solely for Oli’s protection but, truthfully, despite everything, I just want to be near her.
Sage is good about it.
I feel like an asshole all over again for being so jealous of their friendship, but I can’t help it, especially when my Bond smiles warmly back at her. The affection they have for eachother is the most effective weapon because it’s not forced or on display, just genuine and warm. I’d do just about anything to have my Bond look at me like that,anything.
Though she has no idea I’m slowly losing my mind, or maybe she does and is trying to stop any repercussions, but when the professor starts her lecture, my Bond leans into me suddenly. I instantly stop breathing, my heart thumping violently in my chest, and I have to focus on not freezing and looking like an idiot in front of her. It’s almost impossible though, because she practically climbs into my lap to whisper to me, her breath dancing down my throat.
“I don’t want to Bond, but I’ll stop going for your throat if you do the same.”
As she leans back, all of the air in my lungs rushes out at once, but thankfully I don’t shame myself by begging her to come back. Fuck, I think I just want a hug from her.
A white flag.
It’s a tiny offering, nothing in the scheme of what I want to have with her, but it’s also more than any of her other Bonds have managed to establish, and I can’t let it slip through my fingers. If I can prove myself to her now, maybe we can get along. Maybe I can convince her that I’ve never wanted something from her that she didn’t also wholeheartedly want, that Bonding would be an aberration to me if she was being coerced or forced into it, and that she was the one who broke us, not me. Not the other Bonds. She did when she left us all behind because she judged us based on… god, I don’t even know where she’s gotten these ideas she throws at us.
My stomach roils with anxiety all over again.
It takes me until the class is over to answer her, forcing bravado into my voice. “That’s called being friends, Oli, and I’ll give it a shot if you will too. We can figure out the Bond shit later.”
Scoffing, she avoids my gaze as she slings her bag over her shoulder. “If this is some ‘nice guy’ ploy, pretending to be my friend just to fuck me and get your Bond, then I’ll dick punch you right now and walk away without another thought.”
Sage bursts out laughing, slapping a hand over her mouth, and I’m reminded again of the fact that I’ve grown up with the Bensons. She’s absolutely stunned at the way Oli is speaking to me, to her Bond, and I think it’s giving her something to think about with her own utterly fucked Bond Group. I’m not exactly happy about being an example, but if it gives her the courage to tell Riley and Giovanna to kick rocks, then at least there’s a silver lining for someone here.
It also doesn’t mean I’m going to just take that shit either.
With an eye roll, I shoot my Bond an exasperated look. “At this point, Fallows, you’d have to beg me to fuck you. Friends with zero benefits, except that I’ll be watching your every move and you’ll be looking for a chance to run away from us all.”
TWENTY-TWO
NORTH
Drowning in security threats, complaints from entitled council members, and managing Nox’s unrelenting hunt, I am entirely unprepared for spring break, but it appears out of nowhere and quickly becomes a living nightmare for me regardless. Despite our best efforts, no signs of Toby have been found and his parents’ Bonded Group disappears before I’m able to speak with them. There are no indications of Resistance activity at their house, and we can only assume they’ve gone into hiding.
Part of me hopes they found Toby themselves.
The rest of me knows there’s no chance of that, not for any Gifted, and certainly not for those in our community without a shred of training. They’ve only ever lived in gated communities, been educated in private establishments, socialized in vetted Top Tier circles—Toby is gone, and I’m certain his parents are desperate to keep their remaining child safe.
I can’t imagine making the same decision, but I also can’t imagine living without the seething, violent, borderline–psychotic bond within me. The same one that’s still fixated on that pit of bones despite how hard I’m trying to forget it. It’s not squeamishness or fear; I’ve seen a lot of carnage and horror thanks to this utterly pointless conflict. The emotion I feel isundoubtedly shame, but I’ll hide it from every single Gifted until I find my grave to lie in.
Any other response to the excitement that lit up my bond at the sheer volume of death is unthinkable and would only make me the monster the Gifted community claims that I am.
Throwing myself into work is the only way I know how to avoid drowning in my own misery, and after more than a decade of holding my family’s seat on the council, it’s easier than breathing to trim away the raw and the real until I’m left with a neat, palatable cardboard cutout of the sedate and good-natured councilman. All it really takes is a tailored Tom Ford suit, a pair of Hermes loafers, and a smile full of straight, white teeth to hide the destruction brewing within me from the vain and self-important idiots.
The few who aren’t so full of themselves are also those who share my horror and fury at the abductions, so they’ll look away from the part I’m performing without a word otherwise. The emergency meeting is pointless, hours of me explaining for the thousandth time that we don’t have the resources to assign TacTeams to every single Gifted family. None are brave enough to say what they really want, which is just their own families guarded, and when Sharpe pushes back by pointing out the detail currently following my own Bond’s every move, the rest of the table is put on notice as a result.
“As you said, Sharpe, I’m the council member responsible for security and the defense of the West Coast Gifted community. Three Bonds within the Draven Bond Group are on active duty within the TacTeams; Shore is full-time, while my brother and I are on call thanks to our other duties within the community. A fourth Bond serves on recovery missions and defensive deployment as required. Despite the fact that Gabriel Ardern is a college student who hasn’t had the opportunity to complete his formal Tactical Training, thedireshortage of personnel forcedus to look to the upcoming students that show promise, and with a Gift like his, it was the only option we could take. He risks his life, witnesses countless horrors, and has made himself a target, all to keep our community safe.”
Sharpe’s eyes are hard and brimming with hatred, but the rest of the table is practically squirming in discomfort in their seats. It’s a well-known fact that they all discourage their children from enrolling in the Training courses at Draven, and those who do never join the teams after they graduate. The only exception is Harrison, who openly defied his father’s very public demands not to ‘throw away his life’ like that, but despite this, Rockelle is sitting down the table from me and sweating with as much terror pouring out of him as the rest.
The gutless fool was also just whining the most for a personal bodyguard, so he’s on my shit list.