Page 829 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

My father looks down at me, disapproval written in every serious line of his face after having taught me another lesson. “Tell me, Daughter, so I know you will remember this for next time: When does it hurt?”

“When I disobey,” my fourteen-year-old self replies automatically.

“Good girl. And what are my main orders?”

“Do not wish you harm. Do not act out against you.”

“And you understand I will receive a signal from the Avri within you to its brother part within me? You understand this means you must obey me when I am not nearby as well as when I am? That I can use this Avri”—he trails a finger over the hardened darkest-crimson energy glowing in a thick line beneath my right eye—“to punish you from anywhere?”

“Yes, Father. I understand.”

“When you disobey?” Tate repeats my words in a seething hiss, yanking me back to the present. I am sure I will soon be able to catch steam coming from his ears and smoke from his nostrils to mimic a dragon. “Disobey who?”

My jaw works as I speedily run through all the possible ways to get out of this without arousing suspici—

“No, Love. Tell us. That clever mind of yours can’t get you out of this one,” Scotty urges, his tone firming slightly, his unrelenting blue gaze never leaving me.

“No one. Just a slip up.” Growls make the air tremble, but I quickly and purposefully continue, choosing my next words so that they will be far too interesting not to focus on, “My eye was slashed right through. Of course, you must have figured that out as it is not uncommon for Avri to regrow eyes and other body parts if the wound is fresh enough.”

The distress and anger in the room rise astronomically.

“Who the fuck did it?! Who hurts you when you disobey and how? Who cut your damn eye in half? And who on earth turned the lot of it red like some sort of sick trophy?!” Tate’s voice has risen and risen until it is a bellow at the end.

Well. My words clearly did not have the effect I had hoped for.

“Her father.”

The world stills.

Tilts.

My blood runs hot.

Cold.

I feel everything.

Nothing.

What did he say?

Very slowly, in the deathly silence that has followed his claim, I turn my head to Cooper, and I repeat the question aloud, “What did you say?”

Extremely stupidly, with no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, he does not back down, and replies just as lowly as my own words, “Your. Father. He gave you that scar, didn’t he? He’s the one who hurts you. He’s the one who had the Avri put in your face. And he’s the one the Avri belongs to.”

Breathing harshly, I am panting, heaving, a cobra ready to strike. And he is not heeding the warning signs.

“W-what?” Alby’s quiet, horrified voice is Cooper’s only saving grace.

“What’s he talking about? How do you know that?” That is Tiger, but everything sounds mildly hazy: the trembling in his voice, the lack of any of his usual happiness, all muffled.

Now is not the fucking time for my mind to shut down—I have to do damage control.

“You figured out who’s causing Havoc’s agony and you didn’t tell us?!”

“Everyone calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Scotty—”