30
COOPER
I don’t usually get embarrassed. But I definitely fucking was when I accidentally called Ezla Vengeance.
At least it wasn’t HC.
Soon after I’d thought of Ezla as being like the flavour hot cinnamon, I’d started calling her that in my head, using “HC” as an abbreviation. But I’d also taken a liking to “Vengeance”.
Because she was mine.
Against my brother.
And by the few brief moments we’ve shared, I’m pretty sure she somehow knows, even though with how many Players she’s killed over the years, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d had no idea.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to talk about it with the guys, which is why I can never explain where that particular nickname stemmed from.
I’d have to share exactly why I hated my sibling so much, and that’s a can of worms I don’t ever want to open again.
Not with anyone. Not with anyone but . . . her, I realise.
Our Bonded.
My Vengeance.
There’s just something with her, something I know would make her understand. Way more than she should.
The thought makes my skin crawl and bile rise up my throat without warning as I wonder exactly what she’s been through, what she’s going through, if the signs I’ve recognised from my own experience are any indication.
Signs I keep seeing. Signs that keep getting louder and louder. More and more obvious to me.
Red seeps into my vision, but it won’t leave even when I shake my head.
Distantly, I hear voices, but they sound like they’re underwater, and I knock my fist against the side of my head in attempt to clear it.
No use.
My Bonded . . . Vengeance . . . being treated the same way I was . . . possibly worse . . .
My eyes screw shut, and I shake my head again.
My skin grows tight and clammy, and my stomach revolts, heart pounding in my ears.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
Fuck, I’ve not had one of these in years.
Something shakes me, and things skew even more, but I make out some sounds trying to penetrate the haze I’ve fallen into:
“. . . per? Cooper, you okay? I . . .”
The woosh of blood in my ears drowns out the rest of Scotty’s words.
“Wha . . . wrong with him?”
Everything is all broken up, messy, and it only makes things worse.
“. . . some water . . .”
“. . . Tate, don’t—”
SLAP!
Head reeling backwards, everything rushes back into focus, and I suck in a greedy lungful of air, then another huge gulp, and another, as if I’ve been submerged in water for too many minutes.
My cheek stings, and I slowly look up at Tate where he stands over the couch I’m sat on in the main room of our Bonded chambers, the other three gathered around in my peripheral vision. “Thanks,” I mutter, completely sincere, once I’ve caught my breath.
“You’re welcome,” he grunts in that gravelly voice of his.
“You okay?” That’s Scotty, of course, and unfortunately, though by no fault of his own, the question has flames of anger licking up my insides and igniting my asshole side before I can stop it.
“No!” I bellow abruptly, shoving to my feet and almost slamming into Tate in the process as he stands there like a tree trunk rooted firmly to the ground.
“I’m not fucking okay!” My vision blurs as I move to get more room so I don’t barrel everyone over when I start furiously pacing like a madman.
But I don’t care how I appear right now—I am losing it.
All the other men stay silent, giving me room to rant while they watch me with looks ranging from caution to intrigue in Tate’s case. I continue in a rage, “Our Bonded is not okay!”
“What?” Tate’s expression changes in an instant, now swathed in a mix of panic and wrath so profound it feels as though the air hums with it.
“What the fuck do you mean Havoc’s not okay?
” he seethes, head obsessively tracking me back and forth with a promise of murder if I don’t answer his question in the next millisecond.
“I mean she’s not okay!” I shout, tugging at my hair now, not caring if I tear the damn strands at the roots. “I know you all know that! You felt her pain that time when Tate asked about her helmet! And she—” My voice breaks. “And I know her. I see—”
My mouth slams shut.
“You better open that fucking mouth right now, Cooper. She what?! What do you know about my Havoc?!”
“It’s abuse!” I roar, rounding on him, finally stopping my frantic pacing as I face all the stunned faces staring back at me.
“It’s the signs of abuse! I recognise— Someone is hurting our Bonded!
” I didn’t know how strongly I felt about Ezla until just now, when bloody tears attempt to spill over and leak down my cheeks.
“WHO?!” Tate violently grabs me in the next second, eyes completely wild, unhinged even more disturbingly than usual.
His grasp on my neck forces a choked sound from me, and I almost wish he’d let loose on me, just so I can feel something other than the pain wracking through my insides. “TELL ME WHO I NEED TO KILL!”
“Tate, let go!” Scotty barks, he and his brother hauling him off me while the beast of a man attempts to shrug them off with savage strength.
“Fucking hell, you’re heavy,” Tiger mutters as he struggles to control him.
My voice climbs even louder. “I don’t know! I don’t fucking know, okay? I just see—”
“And how do you see, Cooper?” Scotty asks as he keeps a hold of a slightly more subdued Tate in case he lunges for me again, eyes harder than I’ve ever seen them as they drill into me, determined to uncover all my secrets this time, even if I don’t want to give them to him.
My head swings firmly from side to side. “This isn’t about me! It’s about Ezla!”
“No, it’s about both of you and the secrets you’re keeping!” he shouts, the wrath in his voice like nothing I’ve heard from him before either. “I care about you both! And you’re both hiding pain! There are things that go unsaid in this Bonded group, but definitely not unnoticed.”
Panting harshly, I have nothing to say to that.
After having one sibling who was nothing but a piece of shit who did his best to make every day of mine a living hell, I never wanted another, and that was the main real reason why I didn’t want to work with other Evots in Game 1.
I’ve seen what type of bond it forms, and I know first-hand how tainted they can become.
But none of these men are like my brother, not even Tate, who has a tendency to lean towards violence as the answer for many things.
His all stems from a need to protect our Bonded, and while it’s not always rational, I can actually respect that.
He’s nothing like my sadistic brother, who always liked to cause pain as much as possible for no reason other than his twisted enjoyment.
And I’ve come to care about these men, too.
Swallowing past what feels like a jagged rock in my throat, I roam my gaze around them. And I think, even though just moments ago I was so sure I could never tell them, maybe I could share a little, for Ezla’s sake more than my own.
“My brother,” I say lowly, eyes dropping to the floor.
“He wasn’t . . . He was a twat.” I put it mildly, but when I look back up, I know they all understood my meaning perfectly well from the tense set of their bodies and jaws, the savage glint in Tate’s eyes that suggests he wants to do harm for me rather than to me for once.
“Was . . . ?” Alby’s anxious whisper draws my attention to the slimmer man.
My chin dips. “Was. He’s dead. For two years now.” I pause. “Ezla killed him.”
Understanding sparks visibly through them all, my not-so-subtle glances at our Bonded explained, and Alby gasps.
“Fuck yes, Havoc,” Tate says proudly.
Realisation saturates Scotty’s tone as he utters, “Vengeance . . .”
“Yeah.”
After my confirmation, everyone falls silent again. And now that that’s out the way, as if they all know I don’t want to dive any deeper into my past, a heaviness even more oppressive loads the air.
“Havoc . . .” Tate’s voice cracks slightly.
Tiger looks crushed, and he’s unusually silent, as if my revelation has put a damper on his sunshine, while Alby’s face is wet, his eyes puffy and red.
Scotty’s throat works before he pulls himself together like always, forcing himself to be strong for the rest of us. His chin lifts, and he meets each of our gazes. His is now fortified, a steely determination staring back at us. “We will protect her, and we will avenge her.”
Resolute, our agreement fills the room and brings us closer than ever, binding us together in a way that can’t be undone.