Page 79 of Broken Ties
For some ridiculous reason, the image of her flushed face and wide grin flashes in my mind; the soft and affectionate expression on her face that made me weak at the knees, all while driving a knife directly into my heart because it was directed at someone else. There’s nothing to be proud about putting the color in her cheeks now, not when misery and shame radiates out of her.
Arms crossed as she turns her entire body away from me, she murmurs under her breath about finding a job and being free of my controlling, asshole ways, but my focus stays on the car behind us. Our lives both depend on it, so it shouldn’t be as difficult as it’s becoming.
She doesn’t like me, she certainly hasn’t hesitated in making that clear, but the act she put on at that restaurant, even as briefly as she’d played along, now feels like the cruelest thing she could ever do to me because every inch of my soul wants more. As angry as I am, as hurt, as much as my pride is torn to pieces by it all, I’m a Bond and she’s my Central Bond. There’s no changing the fact that Oleander Fallows is the missing piece of my soul who I’ll long for until my last breath.
TWENTY-THREE
GRYPHON
Our target stands in front of the overpriced restaurant and watches as North’s Rolls Royce turns onto the highway before us. Nox’s eyes stay trained on Vittorio and at the last possible moment, my own gaze shifts to the car, but it’s all for nothing. The bulletproof glass that covers it is tinted, making it impossible to catch a glimpse of my Bond.
As the brake lights disappear into the traffic, my instincts scream at me to call the entire mission off. Bile creeps up my throat, a normal reaction to my Bond being in danger, I’m sure, but I’m also absolutely fucking sure I never want to do this shit again.
Getting her trained is a no-brainer; every Gifted should know how to defend themselves. Under no circumstances can my Bond be the one going out into the field. I honestly don’t care what her Gift is, it’s not happening.
It’s the one thing North and I agree on without a discussion or any exceptions to be negotiated. Even having her in that car tonight, as safe as she can be and with triple her usual protections, was the result of a week’s worth of planning by a dozen of our most trusted and critical allies.
Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.
“Just go with Black now and run after her. I’m not about to die on the hunt just because you’re too busy weeping after that pathetic little Bond of yours. Send him back quickly though, so I have backup when Vittorio ditches his bitch of a Central the moment he knows his time is up.”
It takes every inch of my willpower not to reach over and choke Nox Draven out. He knows it, too, a sneer curling over his lips as he eggs me on, but Vittorio finally stops standing around and turns back to Eliza to snap something at her. Whatever he says has her glaring back at him, her entire body locking up until her movements are awkward-looking and stiff as she stomps over to a car and slips into the backseat without acknowledging the driver holding the door open for her.
Vittorio doesn’t join her.
The moment the car begins to move, I meet Keiran’s gaze over my shoulder. Furious as I am, I can only manage a jerk of my head at him, but he doesn’t need an order. With a curt nod back, he Transports out, taking Liadan with him.
Other than his eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror, Nox doesn’t acknowledge my operatives disappearing from the backseat before he’s back to staring at Vittorio as he takes a phone call. No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep all of my focus on the pacing asshole we’re tailing, but I force my gaze to follow him even as my mind fixates elsewhere.
The way Nox has completely lost sight of reason digs under my skin in a way it hasn’t in years, and the way he’s reveling in my frustration is even worse. It’s the fact that he’s painting himself as some sort of expert on Oli without ever having a conversation with her, and the way he insists that our reactions to her prove that she’s ruining us all.
It’s stupid.
But I’m clearly even more stupid for allowing his bullshit to slip through my defenses to eat away at me. I know better thananyone the way his mind works, despite never using my Gift on him. My knowledge comes from a long-standing friendship, one that started in childhood and survived the horrors of our work within the TacTeams, and now is disintegrating before our eyes in the wake of our Bond’s sudden appearance.
Nothing ever seems to be off limits with him either, and those years of loyalty have now been reduced to a data set he uses to cause me the most pain. Sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever get tired of this shit, but I’ve also learned a thing or two from the last decade of having this man’s back.
He’ll die before he ever lets go of his hatred.
I can accept that, just so long as it’s his death and not my Bond’s. I don’t say that easily, and it isn’t a throwaway comment made without thinking the details through. His death would be a massive personal loss for me. Even this shitty period doesn’t change the fact that he’s been a huge part of my life for so long. Gabe would take his death hard as well, after losing so many in his young life already and all of the guidance and support Nox offered him after his father was murdered.
His brother’s death would break North.
It would destroy him in a way that could never truly be repaired. Countless nights he’s woken in a cold sweat, tormented by that same possibility, his fears so utterly overwhelming that they woke me from a deep sleep as well.
Yet I also know that we’re on that trajectory, with no signs of deviation.
Digging my heels in now could set that into motion to the point of no return, and now there’s another Gifted to consider in all of this. Whether or not OlilikesNox, they’re Bonds. The connection they share goes far beyond petty fights and scathing assessments. Gabe’s mom knew his dad was dead before any of us did. The moment his heart stopped and their Bond was severed, her psyche fractured in an almost physical rupture.
The idea of my Bond ending up a shell of herself like that makes my skin crawl.
As the traffic begins to thin out around us, keeping ourselves from being detected becomes way more difficult, and Nox’s eyes turn void as he’s forced to send one of his nightmare creatures out to give our target a bigger lead. It’s already a feat that most Gifted don’t have the power to do, but as the minutes tick by and the only sign of exertion Nox shows is a few beads of sweat starting to form along his brow, it hits me just how much stronger the Dravens are than your average Gifted.
“Stop staring at me and get us closer to that fucking idiot. Next time, I’m going with Gabe. I’d rather answer a thousand questions about technique from a child than have you eye-fucking me instead of doing your job.”
I scoff back. “Gabe has you all figured out, Draven, and you’re too far up your own ass to know it. He doesn’t want a nightmare being set on him and he knows you get off on looking down on weak-willed Gifted. If he spends his time stroking your ego, you’ll be too busy cussing half my team out to send any of that shit his way.”
Those eerie-as-fuck voids flick over to clash with my gaze, and the smirk he gives me is full of teeth. “Just because he’s smarter than the sniveling jocks you decided to put badges and bulletproof vests on, doesn’t mean he’s immune to ending up on my list. I mean, you’ve ended up on it, and you were once the only tolerable Gifted in this entire wretched city.”