Page 113 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

I am no longer lost in the way that has me unable to hold on to myself, and yet tears fill my eyes and roll steadily down my cheeks.

Tate lets out a pained rumble, and Tiger and Alby rush over as Scotty cups my face in his hands and wipes under my eyes with his thumbs. “Ezla,” he coos softly, but the sound is heartbroken. “It’s okay. Just tell us. Tell us what caused this. This is killing us. Please let us all the way in.” Pausing, he seems to stop breathing for a moment. “Is this . . . is this because of what I said? In the maze—”

“Stop speaking,” I rasp, and he listens as always. “That is not . . . why. I do not . . . I just want it gone. I want it out.”

“Want what gone?” he asks gently, brows deeply furrowed in concern.

“I want it out,” I snap, growing agitated once more.

When I reach up to yank at my unbound hair, Scotty quickly catches my wrists again and presses my hands to his chest over his erratically beating heart, further proving his internal distress despite his attempts at a peaceful outward appearance. My blood soaks his T-shirt through from the gash in my palm, but he is unflinching and only presses my hand tighter to him in attempt to slow the bleeding. “I don’t know what you mean, Love. Can you show us if you can’t tell us?”

Glistening eyes wide, Tiger wraps his arms around himself where he now kneels beside Scotty. “Do you—do you mean the Avri? You want the Avri out?” He reaches out for my face before stopping himself, as if he is not sure the touch would be welcomed.

Pain is a sharp needle when it jabs me right in the heart, and it has my answer coming out angrily. “Of course I do,” I snap, and he jolts. “But that is—” My mouth snaps shut. Swallowing uncomfortably, I glance around at all of my men, their expectant faces, their distraught ones, their hurt ones. I am sure they never experienced such pain before they met me.

Which is why I harden my voice and ever-weakening heart and tell them, “I do not think I can do this. I cannot be with you. I think I should return to my father.”

34

SCOTTY

The single word somehow makes it past my numb lips: “What?”

Absolutely no sound follows, not until Cooper says, voice sounding distant to my ringing ears, “Sorry?” Brows scrunched, he shakes his head, arms flexing around Ezla as he pulls her even tighter to him. He appears as if he genuinely believes he misheard our Bonded, and I’m now wondering if I did, too, because surely she didn’t say what I think she did . . . “Sorry, HC, I think I misheard that. Could you repeat that?”

“You did not mishear.”

Lips parting, he still seems to be struggling to comprehend her words.

“I—I . . .” When I look at Alby for a moment at the noise, forcing myself to check in on him even though every part of me demands I keep my attention on my Bonded, I see his usual blush nowhere in sight as tears pour freely from his red-rimmed eyes.

“She doesn’t mean it!” Tiger blurts abruptly, snatching up her hand without hesitation this time, wide, alarmed eyes darting all over her face as if he’s looking for evidence that his claim could be true. “Ezzy’s just cruel! I love you cruel, Wifey! This is just a very . . . very cruel joke.” His voice quietens, fading, the tremble in his limbs making its way into it. “I don’t think I like this one, Ez . . .”

“It is not a joke. I cannot be with you.” There’s nothing there, no emotion when she says this, and that hurts worse than anything.

Tate’s laugh holds no sanity. “Do you really think you can get away from me, my Havoc?”

He lunges for her without warning, hand outstretched as if seeking out her throat, the need to chain Ezla to him completely taking control of him.

I’m moving before I can even process it myself, tackling him. Glass pierces my skin and his as we roll across the taalk, and he roars. It’s not in pain, but in pure wrath that I’ve stopped him from getting to Ezla.

My neck whips to the side painfully as his fist crashes into my jaw. Winding back for another one as I struggle to pin him without hurting him, Tate—

“STOP!”

We both freeze in an instant at our Bonded’s bellowed command, heads snapping her way.

Cooper’s still refusing to let her go, it seems, as she glares furiously at us from his secure hold. “Listen to me. I am not good for you. Any of you. Do you understand? This is who I am. This what I cause.”

“Havoc—”

Throwing her head back, she momentarily looks as out of touch with reality as Tate did a moment ago as she laughs without humour. Cooper appears completely lost and moves a hand to her head where it’s tipped back onto his chest, dark eyes swollen and overwhelmed by concern as they stay locked on her. “Havoc . . . Yes, that is exactly what I am. And I adore it. I would not want to be anything else.” Confusion and wariness fill the bathroom, and I let go of a motionless Tate, making my way back over to her at a cautious pace. Lips curled up at the corner, she continues, “I am not meant for you, I do not think. Am I not destroying you? I do not . . .” The manic light leaves her eyes, and they become worryingly dim. Her voice drops. “I do not want that.”

I start. “You’re not—”

“That part is what really tipped me over the edge. I am . . . It sickens me that I hurt you. But most of all . . . I am sickened by the fact that it bothers me to hurt you in the first place. It is all . . . too much. I cannot do this. I have not been trained for this. I am only used to . . . my father.”

Cooper lets out a pained moan. “Joseph. Joseph, HC. And please . . . please know you deserve more than him. Please tell me you know that.”