Page 46 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

“That’s not really helpful, though, is it?” I grunt. “He’s sadistic—our version of good is definitely not the same as his.”

“It might be in this case,” he counters. “The one thing we can clearly count on now is that Joseph really doesn’t want Vengeance dead. I know that doesn’t mean too much when he . . . when he does what he does to her.” Jaw rigid, he stops for a moment to take a steadying breath before carrying on, “But would he really want to trap her in here forever? After he’s spent so long trying to get her? I don’t think . . . I don’t think just looking at her could ever be enough for him.” The sickened look on his face no doubt mirrors the one on mine.

Silence stretches out for a few beats before Scotty murmurs, “I think you might be right.” Never taking his eyes off Ezla, he remains hunched over the tube as he continues, “But that still doesn’t tell us what might happen if we press the wrong button. I won’t . . . I can’t have anything happen to her. She’s already fucking—” Cutting himself off, his eyes fall closed. When they open back up, his voice firms. “The black one. Press the black one.”

“Are you sure?” Tiger asks worriedly, he and Alby moving to the other side of the tube and looking into it with matching agony written all over them.

He doesn’t respond for far too long. Finally he admits, “No. No, I’m not sure. The colours could mean nothing. But what other choice do we have? We have to get Ezla out of here. What if something’s happening to her right now? Just because it doesn’t visibly seem like it, it doesn’t mean Joseph’s not left her in the process of being . . . changed.”

Cooper winces. “Shit, you’re right. Tate . . .” He hesitates. “Press the button.”

“What if it hurts her?” I grit out.

“Like Scotty just said, she might already be being hurt.”

Chest in pain from the force of my heartbeats, my fist clenches crushingly around the remote control.

“If—if it doesn’t open, we could press the other buttons straight away, right?” Alby asks anxiously. “One of them must do something to help us . . . If something goes wrong, there must be a button to fix it . . . Maybe she won’t be . . . stuck even if we press the wrong one?” I know he’s grasping at straws, but I’m starting to think that’s the only option we have.

Biting down on his gloved thumb, Tiger nods haltingly. “Do it.”

I glance at Alby again, and he gives a hardly visible dip of his chin, sucking his trembling lip into his mouth as his glossed-over eyes flick back and forth between my hand and Havoc.

Straightening, I fortify myself, thumb shifting to hover over the little black button.

Stiffening my jaw, that thumb slams down.

17

SCOTTY

The taalk beneath my gloved palms moves, pushing my hands away as it rises up and out towards me with a soft pshhh.

Breathless sounds of relief fill the room, Tiger’s half a laugh and half a sob. I move to his and Alby’s side in an instant along with Tate and Cooper, throat clogging up as our Bonded’s unnervingly still face greets me with nothing in the way.

With her now accessible, I don’t hesitate to carefully slide an arm under her thighs and another under her back before lifting her into my arms as gently as possible. My brothers hardly breathe as I do, and my voice is choked as I whisper, “Ezla, Love . . .”

“Let’s get out of here.” Cooper doesn’t sound any stronger than me as he marches for the door, not sparing a glance for the bloodied man on the floor, while Alby and Tiger glue themselves to either side of me as if they can’t bear to be even a centimetre away from Ezla.

Tate strides over to the large wardrobe in here, and I’m wondering what on earth he’s doing when he comes back out with some black shorts and a tank top after a short rummage through its contents. Heading back over to us, he holds the top up, and I reposition Ezla with Alby and Tiger’s help so we can efficiently dress her.

I’m assuming the reason she had so little on was so she could absorb whatever the enclosure was feeding her properly, but nausea and a mind-numbing rage racks through me as I think about how much Joseph would have enjoyed having her in such a state for his viewing pleasure. I don’t even want to think about why he positioned her right in front of the bed.

The bed.

This bed would be . . .

My head quickly turns to the side as that sick feeling races up my oesophagus, but nothing comes out when my lips part.

Tiger places an uncertain hand on my shoulder as I breath in and out through my mouth, arms tightening around Ezla as I work to push the feeling back down. His palm is rubbing gently until the temperature in the room seems to freeze over all at once, and he becomes a statue.

Shifting my gaze to him, then the others, I notice my brothers’ focus all narrowed in on those obsidian silks now, too. Cooper has paused in the doorway, and I see the moment it truly hits him what room this is. I see the way his eyes jump to the wardrobe left open from Tate, the way they rapidly take everything visible inside it in—red-lined suits and ties on the right-hand side, the bras, dresses Ezla would never pick out for herself, heels, and her Avri suit all on the left . . . I see the way they snap to the bedside tables, taking in the neatly lined-up items presented in a way a husband and wife’s would be. And I see the way they jump to the chest of drawers pressed up against the wall, taking in the unlabelled tablets left out, ones I’m quite sure only I can guess the function of after my time with our Bonded the other day.

Cooper steps back, almost stumbling as he does, as if the sight, the realisation of what we know happens in here, is too much for him.

Then he storms forwards.

Right at the same moment, Alby tosses out a hastily whimpered, “S-sorry, I think I’m going to be s-sick.” He rushes for the bathroom, a bang letting me know Tate’s had to break yet another panel, before the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting water meets my ears.