Page 595 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Scotty’s shoulders slump, and he lets out a choked breath of relief, encouraging the deflation of my own lungs. “She’s okay. She’s alive.”

Holy shit. Thanking the fucking stars, any possible higher power that comes to mind even though I don’t believe. I run my gloved hands over my face, heart slowing just marginally.

That’s it, though. This has tipped me over the edge. I’m not doing this anymore.

I almost lost her. My woman.

I almost fucking lost her, and she doesn’t even know how I feel. Hell, I didn’t until just recently. Maybe not until right this fucking moment. I’m not the best with feelings and shit like that unless it’s negative, so I can be pretty bloody blind, I’ll admit.

And I am done not knowing everything about the woman I love. She’s not okay. And it’s time we all found out why.

But I’m almost certain I’ve figured some sickening shit out already, things I don’t know how to possibly get Vengeance to talk about when her walls are more impenetrable than taalk, and what I suspect is so dark it’ll make my own abuse look like child’s play.

No more hiding after this, HC. I’m getting you better—and then we’re getting our answers.

47

ALBY

I think I scream when her head drops back.

No, no, no, no, no . . .

I don’t understand what’s happening! She can’t be ill! She definitely can’t die! She’s The Bonding Games Champion! She’s unbeatable, untouchable, unkillable!

Come back, come back, come back . . .

My unrestrained sobs and the pounding of my fragile heart in my ears is all I can hear, and all I can smell is the vomit on the floor—sickness. Death.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump . . .

I’m hot and cold all over, my Avri suit too tight when that should be impossible with it designed for maximum comfort and flexibility, yet I can’t move to try and get some air in.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe . . . I . . . can’t . . . breathe.

Don’t leave me, Ezla! You’re my everything! I need you! I love you! I throw messily her way, trying to find her through the bond. But I can’t. I can’t feel her.

Is this my fault? Should I have told her sooner? But I’m such a wussy, so pathetic I was afraid what might happen if I did. I wondered if people would tell me what I feel isn’t love because that’s not for someone so insignificant as me. But it was all so unfounded, drawn from insecurities created by one of the bullies my Bonded killed as much for me as it was for Tiger, I know.

And now I’m paying the price.

Worse, I’m letting my panic take over again right now, leaving me useless as always—

“. . . alive . . .”

I gasp, oxygen rushing back into me.

Alive.

My Bonded’s not gone.

And I’d been on the floor by my new brothers, my family, worthless, doing nothing but—

No.

No, Alby. I’m better than this now. I need to be better than this. I can’t let my fears control me anymore. I’ve been doing better, and I need to keep doing better.

Starting with learning to love and accept myself so I can give Ezla the best version of me.