Chapter 11 #2
"Being forced into a True Bond is one of the worst things a magus can endure," he said grimly. "You’d have been in agony for weeks. Physically, it would’ve wrecked you. Emotionally… let’s just say, there’s no greater trauma.
It’s a violent intrusion of your entire being.
It forces you to share every aspect of yourself with someone you did not choose, every thought, every emotion, every translation.
No way you’d be using magic after, let alone standing on your two feet.
Let alone fighting a battle and surviving an Amplifier. "
I swallowed hard, instantly regretting the thought. Clearly, mind-rape was worse.
Jackson inhaled sharply, then dragged a hand down his face. “Emma, I’m sorry but can you please explain to me why in the hell you find it so hard to simply have faith in James? Honestly, you seem to have a knack for believing everyone else over your own boyfriend.”
I blinked, the realization settling in. He wasn’t wrong—I had trusted Julian over James. And now Sean. Again. A pattern I hadn’t even noticed until now.
“I don’t… I don’t know why I do that,” I admitted softly, the words tasting bitter. “It’s like there’s this voice in my head, making sure I never fully go all in with James. And I don’t know why.”
Jackson gave me a sad smile, his face reflecting a flicker of pity—or maybe understanding. “Well, you guys don’t have what I’d call stellar communication.”
I snorted, the sound harsh but cathartic. “You now running for president of understatements, or is it just a hobby?”
Jackson grinned, lighting the mood for a second, before his frown returned with a vengeance. “You guys really need to work on it, and on learning to rely on each other.”
“Hard to do when he never tells me anything,” I muttered, still shocked Jackson had known all this time about Julian. “Unlike you, apparently, who got the full download on my True Bond.”
“Emma, please don’t fixate on that.” Jackson’s tone walked the line between gentle and exasperated. “Back then, anything about Julian was a sensitive topic. James was worried—really worried about you. He needed someone to vent to. And to be fair,” he added, “he turned out to be more than right.”
“Excuse me?” I bit off, as my irritation flared. “I think you’re forgetting how James became mayor of paranoid city the second Julian set foot in Cyclos.”
Jackson reached for my hand, then gave it a little squeeze. “I’m not siding with James here. I’m only trying to explain where he was coming from.”
My frustration was still simmering right below the surface.
“Plus,” Jackson continued, and lifted his hands in a small, placating gesture, “you have to admit the timing of it all was a little weird.”
I frowned. “How so?”
Jackson shrugged, and took a long sip of his drink, buying himself a moment. “I’m not saying James’s paranoia was entirely justified at the time, but when Julian’s arrival lined up within weeks of the Board’s actions—and everything that happened with your old boss—it wasn’t too far-fetched either.”
My eyes widened, then mental static buzzed beneath my skull. “My boss? What boss?”
“Bill Ferrars,” Jackson clarified before taking another sip. “You can’t blame James entirely for being on edge after what happened to him.”
I blinked a few times, then my heart started pounding in my chest. “My old boss from Boston? What the hell does he have to do with anything?”
Jackson’s expression shifted, then realization slowly dawned on him. His complexion paled, turning ghostly. “Oh fuck. James didn’t tell you?”
A riot of emotions surged inside me—bewilderment, rage, disbelief—all battling for dominance. “No,” I gritted out, my teeth clenched. “He didn’t tell me anything. What the hell happened to Bill?”
Jackson swallowed, looking like he wanted to disappear. “Emma, I’m so sorry. James told me he talked to you right after the Maumars briefed us. I assumed he did,” he whispered, looking almost ashamed.
“Tell me!” I snapped, barely holding onto my patience.
Jackson cleared his throat, obviously feeling very uncomfortable. “He was killed by Radicals last year. Tortured first, then killed. The Council thinks they did it to find out where you were.”
The world tilted. “No… No, James didn’t tell me about it,” I stammered, feeling as if the floor had dropped out from under me.
Jackson winced, his sympathy awkward and hollow. “Shit. Emma, I’m really sorry for your loss.”
Without another word, I stood from the table, the enormity of the news hitting me like a punch to the gut. I had to find James. I had to confront him about the web of secrets he’d been spinning. I needed answers—something—to make sense of this. And this time, I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
When James and I finally met up that night, it was hard to tell who was angrier.
James’s wrath was tangible, radiating off him in waves. His eyes were wild, his entire body wound tight, as though a single wrong word would make him snap. The intensity pouring off him was honed, volatile— like a fault line straining under pressure.
But if he thought I’d show up being all regretful, he was in for a surprise. Since finding out about Bill, my resentment had grown exponentially, simmering like a ticking time bomb.
So there we stood—two bulls, nostrils flaring, ready to charge.
“You look angry, my love,” I began, my tone dry and detached. “Care to elaborate on your reasons?”
He nearly exploded, his face contorting in raw indignation. “How dare you fucking talk to me like that right now? You betrayed me! You broke into my fucking loft with Sean, you shattered every bit of trust we had between us—”
I snorted, cutting him off. “You don’t want to talk to me about trust right now, James.”
“Oh, please,” he snarled, his words dipped in venomous sarcasm. “Like you cared so much about Dale. If you knew the whole story, you’d—”
“This isn’t about Dale,” I interrupted him again. “But let’s talk about me knowing the whole story, shall we? Now there’s an interesting concept.”
James was taken aback for a moment, his scowl giving way to brief puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”
“Bill Ferrars,” I said, arms crossed and eyes like ice. “Does the name ring a bell?”
A flicker of surprise crossed James’s face, but he quickly masked it, his countenance hardening. “I was going to tell you, Emma,” he replied coldly. “I just needed to find the right time.”
I snorted. “That seems to become a rather recurrent phenomenon where you are concerned.”
“Timing is important.”
Really? Timing is important? What the fuck is that?
Fury coiled inside me, and threatened to break through, but I willed myself to stay as composed as I could be. “He was killed by Radicals, tortured for information about me.” My voice wavered as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. “He died because of me.”
“We don’t know that for sure!” James shot back, then shook his head, his posture tight with irritation. “We haven’t been able to find out the real motives behind his murder.”
I drew in a brisk breath, and tried to suppress the grief threatening to spill over. “Still. Why didn’t you tell me, James?”
He sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his words. “I wanted to wait until I had some real answers for you. I didn’t want to burden you with more pain, especially with everything else going on.”
“You don’t get to decide what burdens me, James Walker. Hiding something like this from me is betrayal.” Frustration boiled over, and I clenched my fists, but before I could continue, James stood abruptly.
“Emma, I was trying to protect you! I didn’t want you to carry the weight of his death on your shoulders.”
“Oh my gods, James. If you say the word protect one more time, I swear, there will be no protecting your balls from the next thing I do!”
Tears started to well up, but I pushed them back.
“Do you have any idea how much it hurts, realizing I can’t rely on my own boyfriend to tell me the truth?
I have no one else here James, you’re literally it for me.
I depend on you completely, which means you control my world.
You choose what I know. And if you don’t choose full disclosure, I’m not…
” I sighed deeply. I didn’t even know how to express myself in a way that would make sense to him.
James took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair, distress written all over his face. “I know I messed up, Emma. I should have told you about your old boss. I thought I was doing the right thing. But it doesn’t matter what I thought. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
I stared at him, momentarily convinced I’d hallucinated. Had James Walker actually just apologized? I almost wished I had a written transcript ready for the Magi Book of World Records.
I didn’t know what to say, torn between the love I still had for him and the overwhelming sense of betrayal which seemed to creep into every corner of our relationship.
I took a deep breath, my manner softer now, but no less intense. “How many things are you still concealing from me, James? How many lies have you told me? How many omissions are there?”
“Why can’t you simply have confidence in me?” he asked, leaning in slightly. “We’re in a relationship for gods’sake.”
“Relationships and trust aren’t built on lies, James,” I replied, my voice cold and distant, every word cutting like glass. “You want me to have faith in you? Then fucking earn it.”
“It’s more complicated than you think, Emma,” James said, his posture tense, as if he were grasping for anything that would make sense.
“I don’t care!” I shot back. “You either open up to me, or you don’t!”
“It’s not my truth!” he exclaimed, his breathing ragged. “It’s not mine to share!”