Page 154 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Then the same man closes his eyes and blows out a slow breath. “I apologise.” My brows dip in confusion before he continues, “I will remove the buttons at once. Both of them.”

“I thought you said—”

“I lied,” he cuts Scotty off with a wince. “I’m sorry. I was told to make their presence on the tablet irreversible, and with you being the Game Master’s daughter . . .”

“You thought I would inform him of your disobedience,” Ezla says, and I can feel her imagining slowly slicing into him.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

Her eyes narrow. “And if you were not afraid of him, why would that be an issue?”

“He might’ve been kind, but he’s still in power and stern when he needs to be. Just like most people, I can’t afford to lose my job. Employees all around Techta are strict about our performance, and it would be hard to find another job so quickly to support my children.”

Silently seething, Ezla’s gaze remains slitted.

“What about the helmets?” Tiger asks then, and I glance over at him before looking at the blonde woman who answers almost immediately.

“That was another recent request made by the Game Master. He wanted things to be harder this year, more exciting for the audience.”

“And you just did what he wanted?” Tate growls.

A fine tremor runs through her, but she somehow keeps her voice steady. “One does not disobey the Game Master. And Final Battles—”

“Is cancelled,” Ezla finishes.

Several mute blinks.

“The Showmaster will announce this to the public soon. He will announce a great many things.” With Ezla’s words, I can already feel the speed in the room picking up. The time for talking is over. “Now, we have already wasted enough time—my Bonds’ tablets need fixing. But I trust that when the time comes, you will support the facts shared with the globe.”

There’s not a moment’s hesitation, and I let out a slow breath of relief in time with the nods and murmured yeses that fill the lab. I can feel the cool, refreshing breeze mirrored in my brothers through the bond as we take in the fact that this worked, that this has all gone—mostly—smoothly. We really needed that after all the madness lately.

“Of course, Miss Zefron—Champion. But what . . . what are our next steps? Who is . . . Who do we work for now? Will we receive direction from The Council?” one of the Neutrals in here asks.

Her eyes slowly slide to him, and her glee swishes through me on velvet and sin. Her expression gives none of what she’s feeling away when she replies emotionlessly, “You will.” But she can’t keep her wicked grin in on her next words, and there’s many gulps to rival the loudness of my own when she says, “And you will work for me, of course. I have many new and exciting ideas. Rest assured, you will like them. I would not want my Bonds to live in a horrid place.”

I think everyone’s at a loss for words, struggling to process the volume of information they’ve received in the past ten minutes.

“You want to change things?” The man from before speaks up again.

Ezla hums. “Of course.”

“My two girls . . . they . . . I don’t want them in the Games. Like me, I think they’ll turn out to be Exots. I can’t lose them.”

“You will not lose them,” Ezla says simply. “Under my rule, the Games as you know them will no longer exist. There will be no more training schools.”

Multiple gasps are sucked in around the room, and I scan over the faces of all the Evots, Exots, and Neutrals in the room. Over the time we’ve been in here, I’ve counted ten in total, and it’s not many people to be telling all this to, but it’s a start. And some are wary, but most I could swear seem hopeful.

“But what about the people who like the Games?” an Exot asks, and it’s very obvious he’s talking about himself.

“There will still be a Bonding Games, but it will be voluntary,” Ezla shares, not giving anyone time to ask anything else before she says with impatience leaking into her sharp tone, “Now, as I have already stressed, I am impatient to fix my Bonds’ tablets. You will find out more about my plans when I reveal them on live TV.” Grabbing the box of citizen tablets, she places mine back on top before she marches for the man, and I hurry to follow her with my brothers.

The father we’ve been speaking to turns around and starts to make his way painfully across the room, leading us to whatever lab all citizen tablets are made in, I’m guessing, and as we tail him, Ezla calls back to the room without turning around, “And it is no longer ‘Champion’ or ‘Miss Zefron’—it is Empress from now on.”

43

TATE

“No shit? You’re kidding, right?”