Page 688 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Scotty pinches the bridge of his nose. “You just did the same thing.”

An offended look. “No, I—”

“Now, Twig! Or I swear I’ll beat you so black and blue the live cameras won’t even be able to tell you’re human!”

“That’s it—”

Grabbing Tiger by the back of the neck, Scotty drags him backwards from where he’d started to march for the door—then does the job himself, leaving me scrambling out the way as he unlocks it and yanks it open.

“You got a problem?” His cool and composed tone is completely at odds with Troy’s face of thunder.

“Yeah, with him.” Those beady eyes drill into me. “No need to involve yourself.”

I instinctively back up, inching my way closer to Tiger, who adds his own opinion, “We’re already involved, Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum.”

That evil glower is transferred to him. “What did you just call me?”

Tiger’s eyes round innocently, and his brother rubs a hand over his mouth to hide his smirk.

I have to admit, I myself am struggling not to laugh, which is saying something considering most of the time, nothing will pull me from that murky water when I’m drowning in panic. But Tiger is like a breath of fresh air, someone who can make any situation feel light—I can tell that from being around him for only a few minutes. He’s someone I’m sure would’ve stuck by me if I’d known him in first school instead of Aider.

Troy’s malevolent glare shifts to Scotty. “You better get your freakish ADHD brother under control—”

Any mirth is wiped from Scotty’s face.

One second, Troy’s spewing venom. The next, he’s been dragged inside the private room and slammed up against the wall, his head smacking against it with a painful thump.

“Repeat that.”

Scotty’s voice is death incarnate.

Icy.

Lethal.

No more than a whisper, its effect could never be rivalled by a raging shout.

Troy clearly doesn’t get the memo. “I said—”

Blood spurts as Scotty’s knuckles crash into his face.

Then again.

Again.

“What was that?”

At the question, Troy’s dazed eyes struggle to open back up, his pained cries lingering in the air. His expression wars between shock that someone would dare touch him, anger, and pain. Wisely, he keeps his lips pressed tightly together, only opening them to lick up some of the crimson trickling from his nostrils.

Scotty leans closer so their foreheads are almost touching. “If you ever . . . talk about my brother like that again . . .” His grip tightens on my bully’s neck. “I will kill you.” His fingers clench further, the action rewarded with a choking sound. “I will peel the skin from your bones and make sure you eat it.” My stomach turns. “Got it?”

Troy’s large head bobs frantically.

Abrupty, Scotty’s grip loosens, and Troy inhales all the air in the vicinity as he huffs and puffs and half runs, half crawls out the room without a glance back.

It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.

Focus moving from the man stumbling away, I freeze.