Page 136 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

It is the kind of cold that numbs you. The kind that is so icy, it strips you of any and all feeling. The kind that could only find me in this one instance, where a video of Joseph and I in bed has been put on display for all who walk in here to see.

I can only stare at the high-quality footage as he moves inside of me, ears ringing to muffle his low grunts and groans.

I do not remember this, but then, I would not—I was unconscious when he took me that day. Sometimes, I had a bit too much fight in me, and Joseph would knock me out to take what he wanted.

Secure arms wrap around me, a strong hand cupping the back of my neck and pressing my face into a solid chest. A clean and fresh smell envelopes me as Scotty murmurs, “Don’t look, Love.” His grip is gentle but firm and unrelenting, and I know he will not let me go, that he would not even if I could bring myself to fight him off.

Like the rest of my stone-still body, my lips lack any feeling, my mind any thought but one:

I did not know he recorded us.

Scotty makes a pained sound in his throat, and I know he heard that. I can feel him through the bond, all his crushing emotions that he can no longer keep from me, the only thing to break up that numbness within me.

“Turn that fucking shit off!” I vaguely hear Cooper roar, his voice passing by me as he storms into the room.

“I-I’m trying!” That is Tiger’s distant sob.

“Try harder!” Tate’s thunderous shout is not far behind Cooper’s in location. “Did you fucking turn this on?! TURN IT OFF!”

“I—I’m so-rry! I didn’t m-mean to! I was ju-st checking everything!” Tiger cries again.

Beneath my cheek, the warm surface vibrates as Scotty speaks. “It’s okay, Tiger. You didn’t know. Alby, keep looking for how to turn it off with him. Cooper and Tate, calm the fuck down. You’re not helping anything.”

“Calm the fuck down?! There is a video of our Bonded being raped on the fucking screen!” Cooper explodes even more violently than before.

While I stand here uselessly without a single twitch of my muscles, Scotty shifts his hand from the back of my neck to my ear, his arm wrapped around my head, cradling it protectively, his bicep pressed to my other ear. He is doing it to try to maintain the most soothing environment possible for me, but I still hear his returning shout as he loses his composure, his voice cracking halfway through: “I know, Cooper! I fucking know! So focus on getting it off instead of carelessly throwing your anger around when we’ve already got enough to deal with! You too, Tate!”

Through the cacophony, another thought manages to form.

How did I not know that he recorded us?

Then another and another as self-hatred creeps up on me.

How many recordings does he have? How could I have been so clueless? How could I have not even considered the fact that Joseph may have secretly recorded the times he forced himself on me when I am now aware of the hidden cameras? Why did he record them?

The last one lingers the longest, but it is not too difficult to figure out the reasoning: He would not want to share this with anyone, not even for blackmail to control me in any way. He would never share what he believes to be his. And that leaves only the knowledge that he has kept these videos of me to watch for his sick enjoyment. It is clear to me that he has been watching them in this very room, maybe even today, likely pleasuring himself as he did.

Suddenly, as if he is right here, his scent overwhelms me. Bile crawls up my oesophagus, but I will not let it out. Tears prick at my eyes, but I squeeze them shut. A scream builds up in my throat, but I stuff it back down.

I am abruptly dragged forwards as Scotty rushes backwards. Alby’s terrified cry rings out at the same moment, and I drag my eyes back open, my senses returning enough with the dramatic increase in horror and disgust to have me honing my focus back in on my men.

Through my blurry vision, hazy ears, and weakened limbs, I manage to push myself back from my sensible one. His grip loosens as if he believes he now needs it to, as if he needs me free for what is to come, and the back of my neck prickles far too late.

I had been so out of it . . . so lost in the disbelief, my own horror . . . that I did not realise how much time had passed. My awareness had been so dampened that I failed to notice his presence the moment he entered the penthouse as I otherwise would have. I had failed to notice the fact that his scent was not simply stronger in here because he had spent the most time in this room recently . . . but because Joseph and his newly appointed group of Exots are standing right behind me.

39

COOPER

The video turned off the moment Joseph and a horde of Exots walked in, and I caught a small remote being tucked into the inside pocket of his Avri-adorned suit jacket to tell me that was his doing. But that sick feeling tilting my stomach all over the place remains.

Never in my life have I felt this way—so angry, so fucking sad, so ill, that I don’t know what to do with it.

Never in my life have I been so ready to kill.

With the big screen black, it’s a lot dimmer in here now, the cinema lit only by the blackish-crimson Avri strips on the too-rich seats and obsidian walls, and the light filtering in from the open doorway.

But I can still see Ezla clearly as she reaches over her shoulders and retrieves her armoury sticks, a faint hum vibrating the air as her curved blades manifest and she extends her arms out either side of her, taking up a protective stance.