Page 165 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Below the Game Master, the Champion has always held the most power. I’ve always seen her as a bigger presence than him, as someone unbeatable, someone untouchable, and that’s the truth of who she is without him. With him gone, there really is no one who could compare to her. With him gone, we don’t need to continue the Games. We don’t need to play Game 6, suffer through more killing to win TBG and ask to be on The Council. With him gone, all we need to accomplish everything we wanted is Ezla.

So yes, it feels too easy, too simple, too fast, even, everything happening in a blur . . . but when I think about it, it could really be no other way. And, well, it’s not exactly been a complete breeze. Then again, I guess that could still be argued with Ezla around to effortlessly deal with any problems arising . . .

After Ezla’s speech, the entire room gapes at her.

She herself appears unimpressed.

“I would appreciate you opening your mouths to give me your opinions, no matter how little I care about them.”

Scotty coughs quietly into his fist, and Ezla flicks a subtle narrowed-eyed look his way—a green and brown narrowed-eyed look that I’ve stolen a hundred glances at since she opened her eyes after several torturous hours in the infirmary. He’s tried to tell her that as sexy as her ways are and how he never wants her to change, he thinks it might be more intelligent to at least pretend to care about what The Council has to say to win them over with minimal bloodshed.

Would you like to add something, my sensible one? she says tonelessly.

I feel his pleasure at being called that even now. She’ll never not affect us as deeply as she did from day one. No, Love. You’re doing great, he sends back gently.

Cooper snorts out loud, and the Evots, Exots, and Neutrals sat at the long table in the middle of the room shift their attention to him, some pursing their lips. We’re on the lowest floor in the Techtis Council building and in one of three spaces designed for meetings, and while The Council is sat in the expensive chairs all around, Ezla and us remain standing at the front of the room. Ignoring their looks, a few judgmental ones quickly disappearing when Ezla’s stare bores holes into them, Cooper says with amusement, You’re down so fucking bad.

Scotty shoots him a side-eye. So what? You are too.

We all are! Tiger cheers before Cooper can respond. I love you, Wifey! Can’t wait for our— Ohhhh, I can’t say that anymore. Gotta keep that quiet.

I can still hear your thoughts, my wild one, Ezla informs him without inflection, and I roll my lips in. You must be more subtle if you wish to hide your plans from me.

He pouts. Ezzy! I love you in my head, but you can’t look all over it at the moment! he insists vehemently.

Can I not? There’s a clear warning in her words.

Uhhhhh . . . no? he hedges, testing his luck. I fight to keep my wince in, already knowing what’s coming.

I would prepare yourself for punishment, Puppy, as you will receive no warnings.

His eyes blow wide, and he’s gearing up to respond when a man clears his throat.

My gaze zips back to the table.

Like before, everyone’s staring at us. Some of the looks are more scrutinising now, and I’d almost forgotten they likely don’t know exactly how the Bonded can communicate.

Without comment on the long pause, Ezla continues, “If you do not speak, I will assume you cannot. Maybe I will be tempted to cut a hole in your sealed lips to aid you.”

The Council looks more than horrified.

And that’s when the first mistake leaves one of their mouths.

“This is exactly why we cannot let her!” a greying man explodes, shooting from his seat. He looks strangely familiar, almost like . . . like I’ve seen him before . . . like . . . Aider Cole. “You, a child with no experience in ruling a region, who can only think and make decisions based around violence, believe we should allow you to take your father’s place as well as call you Empress—”

An Avri throwing star punches a hole through his windpipe and exits through the chair at his back. Whizzing back around, the dark green weapon zooms towards its owner, slamming safely back into Tate’s outstretched hand.

Silence.

Aider’s dad’s upper half slumps forwards and meets the taalk tabletop with an unceremonious thud.

More silence.

Lips popping open, I can hardly process the fact that someone close to me has yet again so effortlessly slain one of my demons. Over the weeks, my brothers and Bonded have slashed everything away that was bringing me down until I’ve become a new version of myself, one who’s still me but with all the qualities and general feelings I used to wish I could have: the standing up for myself, the asking for what I want even when it’s hard, the happiness both with who I am and that describes my overall state, even if that’s been hard to maintain most recently with all the heartache. I’m Ezla’s, and that’s the best gift I never knew I needed.

Well done, my beast. There’s clear arousal in Ezla’s words, while I can only stare at the dead Evot, frozen like the majority of the room. Then—

Screams erupt in the air, but it’s surprisingly not everyone; about half of The Council are on their feet. And I know before Ezla smirks wickedly, glee sparkling in her eyes to match Tate’s as he gazes at her with his own heaps of lust and obsession, that not a single one of them is making it out of this room alive.