Page 81 of Broken Ties
“Serves the bitch right.”
It takes me three deep, deep breaths to be calm as I knock on my Bond’s dorm room door. I want to turn my ass around and find the girls whispering about her and hack into their minds, uncover their deepest secrets, and then destroy them with that information. But there’s a small part of me that worries they’re not lying.
They all believe the words they’re saying.
That doesn’t make it the truth, but it’s enough of a punch to the gut that I can’t tear myself away from her door to shut them all up. I have to get in there and see her for myself, ask the questions and get to the bottom of all of this, even if the truth might just send me—and the rest of the Bond Group—off the fucking deep end.
I knock before I can work myself up any more, but when she doesn’t answer, a new fear creeps into my mind.
They said abotchedabortion.
What if she’s bleeding out in there? What if she’s been assaulted?What ifa million other things that could be the explanation here, all of them more disturbing and deadly than the last.
I unlock the door myself.
I’d insisted on having a copy of her room key. Though North had been hesitant to hand it over, he’d trusted me to make the right calls with her, to let my Gift of the Truth guide me. I’m glad I pushed it with him now as the door swings open.
Oli is lying in her bed, looking as though she’s dying, with a fine sheen of sweat over her forehead and a green tinge to her skin. Her eyes are a little unfocused, a sign of pain, and her hands clutch at her stomach desperately.
She looks fucking awful.
It also lines up with what the gossiping bitches down the hall were saying just a little too much, despite the evidence otherwise. I have to fight to unclench my jaw enough to speak to her.
"I'm going to need you to be really honest right now, Oleander. The girls downstairs are saying this is a botched abortion. I checked your GPS tracker, and I know that it can't be unless you did it in a bathroom stall by yourself over lunchtime. So, what's going on?"
Her eyes instantly fill with tears. She blinks rapidly to attempt to clear them, but all it does is help them fall. "Does it even matter what I say to you? It's not like you will believe me anyway."
She swipes a hand over her cheeks, a little color rising in them as she curses under her breath.
It only makes me angrier. “Just tell me the truth."
She rolls her eyes at me and snaps, "Well, it’s not a fucking abortion and it’s not a miscarriage. I have my period, and I'm ina lot of pain. It's like this every time I get it. Normally, I can get pain medication that will help. I don't have a credit card to get it delivered, and all of the drugstores are too far away to get back in time for curfew. I'm here for the long haul tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll just have to be late for classes to get the damn Midol."
Pure, unadulterated truth.
The kind that splits open my chest and floods my veins with the teller’s emotions, the frustration and embarrassment and resentment in her at all of the indignities she’s experiencing taking over me. It’s like a drug to me, dopamine and an aphrodisiac all rolled up into one. There’s nothing else quite like it.
She digs her way a little further into my heart.
I nod at her slowly, my decision on how to react to this instantly made because she’s my Bond and she’s lying here in pain. I can’t just sit by and accept that, no matter how much she might still claim to want that, so instead I hit the lights, the whole room plunging into darkness.
She panics.
Her breathing becomes unsteady, which pisses me off, but my anger isn’t really at her. It’s at this entire fucking mess we’re stuck in.
"What the hell are you doing?" she croaks, but I ignore her for now.
Some things are better said with action, not words.
I step over to the bed, pulling my leather jacket off, and then after a second of thought, I strip down to my boxers. I’m not leaving her tonight, and there’s no way I can sleep in my jeans, not after the week I’ve had thanks to the Resistance’s attacks. My bones are aching, muscles screaming, and I’m the type of exhausted that can’t be cured with sleep alone.
There’s also a large part of me that wants my Bond in my arms with nothing between us. I can’t really have that, not inthe way I truly want, but this’ll be close. Fuck, I could be playing with fire here and this might end up the tipping point to my descent into complete madness.
That thought still doesn’t stop me.
She swallows again and huffs out, “You need to leave. I can't give you what you want right now.”
I scoff at her, once again not bothering to answer her sass. Instead, I reach out to gently roll her on the bed, creating just enough space so that I can join her. I’m instantly assaulted by the mattress, wincing and cursing North in my head for this bullshit. He clearly has no idea of the conditions she’s living in, one of his petty and vindictive staff members clearly responsible for this, but as the broken spring coils dig into my back, I’m not really moved to think rationally about a goddamned thing.