Page 107 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Ezla’s head whips to her left, and she draws back from Alby. “Shut up, you moronic waste of space,” she snaps at Player 87, who’s pinned on the taalk beneath Player 2—Elijah—who my Bonded’s mismatched glare narrows on maliciously next. She’d evidently been too distracted, too consumed by the bloodlust, to notice him until now as she purrs in a way that has goosebumps raising along my arms, “What do we have here?”

“Not him, Ezla,” I say quickly, stepping towards her.

Her stare of death whips over to me. You dare to tell me what to do? she hisses venomously, a look darkening her features that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen pinned on me like this, not in all the time I’ve known her. On live television, too?

My heart drops from my chest cavity.

Shit, I’m so sorry, Ezla. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that, how that would look—

I cannot be controlled. I cannot be stopped—

He saved my life, Ezla! I cut her off urgently, moving closer to her and trying to take her in my arms, but she shoves me back so hard I almost fall into the blood pooled on the floor from Aider. Still, I don’t back down. You know that! He told me about the helmets! Then he fought with me when I was outnumbered! Please, Ezla—

“Go away, Player 2!” she barks abruptly, and I jump. “This is my Bonded group’s revenge, and you are not wanted here. I shall kill you in Game 6 and rejoice in your terror whenever I catch a glimpse of you before then.”

Any and all colour gone from his face, he splutters out a, “Y-yes, Champion,” before scrambling to his feet and running like hell down the hall, turning a corner without even analysing if it’s the best route beforehand.

Swallowing thickly, vaguely noting Tate jumping on Player 87 when he tries to make an escape, too, I send down the bond, Thank you, Love. I know that must have been h—

I do not wish to speak with you. Leave. Leave my mind.

My lips part. Ezla . . . Love, please . . .

I have spared him as he kept you alive, but I am unhappy with you and would like some space.

Pain clenches and spasms in my chest. Please, Love. Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I should have asked in your mind. I didn’t mean to undermine you. Don’t shut me out—

An impenetrable wall slams down in front of me.

“Fourteen minutes remaining.”

That pain spreads and spreads until it’s hard to breathe. I’m really fucking things up today.

My brothers exchange cautious glances, Tate excluded as he gives me a furious glare that tells me he’d love to shake me hard enough to dislodge my teeth.

“We have to go.” Cooper is the first to break the silence, tone low.

Alarm flashes through Tiger’s eyes. “Does anyone have any idea of the way to the middle from here?”

“You go ahead. I am not done here.” Ezla’s voice is harder and colder than ice.

“Fuck that, Havoc. We’re finishing this together.” His large fist smashes into Player 87’s face, who spews a train of venomous curses and struggles and flops about like a fish on a hook beneath him. “This good-for-nothing prick stabbed you. He almost—” Neck tensing and rolling, Tate cuts himself off. Rage like no other pummels into me too, and my hurt momentarily takes a back seat as my attention lasers in on the man who could’ve killed my Bonded, my fucking everything.

Growling, Ezla hisses, “Do it, then. I will have my fun with Player 84. Be quick, or I may kill you all myself.”

Not about to question her abrupt change of heart, I step towards Player 87.

The Exot doesn’t stop throwing his insults about as I advance with Cooper, but he’s definitely getting weaker with each of the hits Tate’s now raining down on him. A brief glance behind me shows Ezla advancing on the passed-out Player 84 and Tiger stood back with a rare seething expression scrunching his face as he glares at the man under Tate alongside Alby. I think he wants to join in but has chosen to keep his best friend company after the words Ezla gave our quietest brother, there to make sure he’s okay and doesn’t break down. I’m glad, honestly, because I think they apply to him too.

Cooper is the first to reach Player 87 out of the two of us, and his boot slams into the man’s head with a solid thump as he grits out, “You’re fucking dead. You seriously thought you could touch our woman and get away with it?” Another kick, and Tate moves back automatically to give him room, understanding this vengeance belongs to all of us. Gloved hand wrapped around the Exot’s neck, he keeps him in place as Cooper continues, “You tried to take her away from me. From us.”

When Tate leans to the side as Player 87 opens his mouth to speak, I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Not until he comes back with Aider’s severed penis in his hand.

And he shoves the organ straight down Player 87’s waiting throat.

“Oh my fucking god!” Tiger shrieks somewhere behind me. “Don’t look, Bestie!”