11
ALBY
Tate’s glaring holes into Scotty’s head from across the dining table.
Awkwardly, I pick up my toast smothered in avocado.
But I shouldn’t have taken a bite, because I immediately choke on it when Tate growls, “Someone hand me that breakfast knife. Scotty’s decided it’s his time to die.”
“Woah! No, Tater Tot! That is not how we treat our family members, my guy!” Tiger shrieks from his other side and shoots to his feet at the same time as him, his bright blue eyes popping right out of his face.
My best friend and brother has thankfully been much more himself after our time with our Bonded the other day, and I think that’s really helped all of us shift back into normalcy and lift our moods somewhat.
But what’s really helped with raising spirits is the fact that Scotty’s just told us Ezla has figured out a way out of this awful situation, though she wouldn’t tell him what that way was, so there’s equal parts anxiousness mixed in there.
And a raging jealousy from Tate since Scotty might’ve let slip what other, uh . . . activities happened in his bedroom yesterday.
None of us even knew Ezla was here—we’d all gone straight to our soundproof rooms after dinner to get ready for bed, exhausted from the day’s training—and I’m a little disappointed myself that she only visited Scotty and not the rest of us. But I also completely understand it:
I think Scotty might’ve taken the hardest hit with this situation, considering he feels like the safety and happiness of our Bonded group all comes down to him, and I know he’s been feeling like a complete failure—it’s been written all over him no matter how many times he’s told each one of us that he’s fine when we’ve checked in on him.
So I’m actually happy, really, that she focused solely on him.
And so, so relieved to see him without all the bruises he’s been sporting since Tate’s attack on him.
I can tell he and Ezla needed that time together, and warmth expands in my chest at the results and the undeniable care she evidently has for him for her to have taken such a big risk to come and fix him up.
“He didn’t tell us Havoc was here!” Tate rages, balling his fists into solid rocks that I subtly shift my chair away from with wide eyes. “Fucking selfish prick! I thought we were supposed to share!” Next, he jabs a finger vibrating with fury at Scotty. “You’re trying to steal her from me!”
Scotty’s jaw clenches, then relaxes. I can see how hard he’s trying to stay calm. “No, Tate, I’m not. I would never try to take Ezla away from any man in this room.”
“Liar!”
Resting his elbow on the table, Scotty squeezes his eyes shut as he rubs at his temples. “Tate, please. I’m exhausted—”
“I don’t fucking care! I only care about my Havo—”
“TATE, SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!”
Almost fast enough to snap my neck, I whip my head Cooper’s way.
Everyone stares at him in stunned silence as he says, wrathful glare searing into Tate, “Scotty is the one who’s always fucking trying to take care of everyone.
We’ve all been exhausted, but he’s been bloody dead on his feet—partly because of you, might I add—and you’re giving him even more shit to deal with?
” He scoffs. “And I thought I was an asshole.”
Wow . . . it’s rare for him to be the one to step in to break up a fight instead of one of the ones in it. Things really are different lately.
He continues, “We’re your fucking brothers now, Tate. Too bad if you don’t want us, because Havoc”—Tate’s stormy grey eyes narrow at anyone else calling our Bonded that—“is all of ours. You want her, you get the whole lot of us. You need to fucking learn to deal with that.”
Nostrils flaring, Tate rumbles lowly, “But he kept her from us. Why would he do that if he wasn’t trying to take her from me, from the rest of us?”
Cooper sighs. “He wasn’t keeping her from any of us.
Ezla clearly came to him because he was in such bad condition, she knew he needed her.
I know you’re aware of how big of a deal it is that our Bonded, the motherfucking Bonding Games Champion, came here to help him.
And can you honestly be so heartless that you’re not happy for him to be doing better?
Are you so selfish that you’d rather have Ezla all to yourself and leave the rest of us to suffer?
You would have preferred for Scotty to slowly burn out until he’s—”
“No,” Tate mutters roughly, head dropping. He almost looks ashamed.
“Then apologise.”
Scotty’s hand drags down his face as he glances at Cooper sat beside him. “Cooper, it’s fine—”
“Apologise,” he repeats, deep brown eyes staring Tate down, unwavering.
Jaw shifting as he grinds his teeth, Tate flicks his own eyes back and forth between him and Scotty. After a moment, they come to a stop on the latter, and he says lowly, “I’m sorry.”
Scotty shakes his head. “It’s fine, Tate. I get that this is difficult for you. I can’t imagine how it must feel to have four other men in your life suddenly after the girl you’ve had feelings for for years—”
Rolling his eyes, Cooper interrupts, “Bloody hell, I hate you all. Can you just accept Tate’s apology?
We’re witnessing once-in-a-lifetime shit here, and instead of accepting what you’re due, you’re trying to tell him he’s done nothing wrong?
That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it.
By now, he should be dealing with this relationship better and understand we’d never try to steal Ezla away like he would.
” A venomous glower is tossed Tate’s way.
“And sometimes, Tate, there will be one-on-one time with our Bonded. You’ve had that before yourself, and did you wake any of us up to tell us she was here? ”
He can’t hold Cooper’s stare any longer at that, recognising the level of hypocrisy there.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
No one speaks for a stretched-out moment.
Then Tate repeats, the shame clear in him now as he makes himself look Scotty in the eye as he repeats gruffly, “I’m sorry, Scotty.
I was being a dickhead. It’s not an excuse, but I’m still struggling to get used to this.
I’ve been dreaming about meeting Ezla and having a life with her for years.
Just me and her. I could never have prepared myself for four other guys bonding her, too. ”
Twisting my fingers in my lap, I flick my attention back to Cooper as he mutters under his breath, “Better.”
It’s another beat before Tiger says, “Just so you know, Tater Tot, I’m kinda mad at you right now. But you won’t get the silent treatment because I know you’re lacking in emotional intelligence, so you get some leniency.”
His lips tighten.
“Umm . . . can we go and see Ezla now?” I ask quietly, hoping to prevent any more arguing.
Scotty smiles warmly, and everyone seems to collectively relax at the thought of seeing the woman we love again, even if it isn’t going to be at all fun when two of us have to pretend to hate her and the rest of us have to seem like we might be starting to.
Worse, this is our last training before Game 4 tomorrow.
Nudging his chin at my plate, Scotty says, “Finish your food, then we’ll go. She might have updates for us about whatever her brilliant mind has concocted.”
***
It’s different this time. Air Battles is the only Game held outside of The Dome, and it feels strange to be out in the elements like this.
In my Avri suit, I can’t feel the change of temperature too well, but it’s warm out here in September despite the fact it’s starting to get late.
I’m pretty sure it’s for better visual effects that this Game is always held later than the others, beginning once the sun’s gone down, and I have to admit, it does look cool on TV to see Players whizzing around on their glowing Avri jets against the backdrop of the starry night sky.
But nothing can change the fact that it’s still a game of death that no person should ever have to compete in.
Chin up, my shy boy. You will be okay. I will slaughter anyone who tries to harm you.
I almost don’t manage to smother my gasp in time.
Listening to Ezla with my cheeks now burning what’s likely a billion shades deeper than my default, I roam my eyes around the courtyard before me.
My heart’s pitter-pattering at the rate of knots in my chest, and my head is a little fuzzy from each and every little word she just sent through the bond, but even if we need to act as we have been for the public, we’re not about to showcase the fact that we still use mind communication to the Game Master.
We’ll be using it up in the air, but we’re counting on Joseph either not noticing the mind-to-mind talk through all the chaos or letting it slide since it’s being used for battle talk like I’m sure other Bonded use it for in Games.
And so all I can respond with is my obedience right now.
There’s another imposing box out here like the one in the arena directly at our backs—the dome-shaped building’s netting of Avri is lit up starkly in the dark in brilliant red, white, and green, making it even more breathtaking than it is in the day—and I know that one-way horizontal rectangle holds him and the other higher-ups like usual.
And there isn’t seating for the public this time, so the spectators from across Techtis are in clusters on the taalk ground surrounding The Courtyard, just behind the trees; about fifteen feet apart, each conifer tree stands tall on either side of the sizable rectangular floor of concrete we stand on, leading right from The Dome to the viewing box, and although it’s not too exciting, it’s nice to see some nature once in a while.
Of course I’ve seen trees before—we need them and other greens for oxygen, after all—but they’re usually purposely hidden away, reserved to dedicated nature areas so as to not ruin the aesthetic of the region.
“Welcome, everyone, to Game 4 of The Bonding Games!”
Cheers erupt all around, travelling back and back to fainter cries filled with anticipation by the edge of the Headquarters’ territory and echoing through the surrounding city beyond.
Nausea flips my stomach over.
Inhaling a deep breath, I blow it out slowly as the Showmaster goes through his usual speech, and I can only pray he hurries up, because my anxiety is only getting worse and worse the longer he drones on.
It doesn’t help that I know he’s Ezla’s massage therapist, either, and my insides writhe in discomfort at the thought as well as the fact he’s clearly not much better than the Game Master if what he said to my Bonded recently was bad enough that she lost every ounce of her composure and jumped on him.
Clammy gloved fists clenching by my sides, I look to my right, taking her in now.
A sense of surreality hits me when I think about how, just weeks ago, I was opposite her, trembling from the fear that she’d take my life in the most savage way possible.
And she certainly tried to. Almost ran me over with her tribike within the first handful of seconds of Game 1, in fact.
But now she’s at my side, promising to protect me, to kill for me rather than just . . . kill me.
My heart strains towards her, and her head shifts just so to her left.
Internally, I squeak under her attention, that ever-present nervousness here, yet I love the feeling when it’s caused by all of her focus on me.
But I can’t bask in it for long because I hear the Showmaster, Peter, finishing his overdramatic monologue.
Casting a quick glance around me, I take in the other remaining Players, all of whom are shifting anxiously, some with a more excitable kind, I note with little surprise but heaps of dread as my eyes catch on Aider.
One of the Exots standing with him notices me staring, the luminous dark ruby numbers on his forearms reading ‘87’, and his lips twitch into a subtle smirk that has me even more unsettled than before.
Why did that look like he knows something we don’t . . . ?
Ez . . . Ezla? I attempt to push through the bond, the alarm bells ringing in my head too pressing not to despite the risk. Worry coats my words even in my head.
Without looking at me, she replies, Yes, thank you, Puppet. I have noticed 22’s group. Simply do as we have planned. We have practiced many times—you cannot get it wrong.
Gulping audibly, I move my attention back to the other groups, belly all tingly despite everything at her calling me Puppet again. This time, my eyes linger on Iggy from Evot Training School 246, whose Bonded group is down to three members now, and he gives me a head nod when he feels my gaze.
I return it with a hesitant smile.
I like Iggy, especially after Tiger told me he spared his life in Game 3, and I can only hope he stays safe in this Game and the next two as well.
Other than his and Aider’s group, there’s also Dex, Jodine, and their Exot stood nearby, the sixteen-year-old boy scowling furiously at anything and everything while Jodine eyes him anxiously, her complexion visibly pale behind her visor from here.
I’m pretty sure it’s worry for him rather than any fear of him, because I’ve noticed despite how little I really pay attention to other Bonded groups these days with all of it focused on my own, namely Ezla, unless we’re in a Game, that they’ve become a little family just like us, but with different dynamics.
I’m almost certain now that Jodine and Dex are together, and they both treat Player 59 as they would a younger sibling.
I haven’t seen enough to know how he feels about that, but he doesn’t seem to want to kill them anymore like he did in The Bondings, so that’s a good sign.
Lastly, I find two lone figures, both glowing green, and two pairs, one of which only consists of Evots, while the other holds the Player numbers 1 and 60.
My chest pinches, the knowledge that the latter two out of all of them are the only ones that even have a chance of escaping the Games this year sinking into me heavily.
Without an Exot, the rest are all Unbonded now, and I can’t even imagine how they must be feeling after losing their Bonds as well as being fully aware it’s highly unlikely they’ll survive TBG without them.
And if they survive and compete in next year’s Bonding Games as required, they’ll have to bond again, replacing people they potentially grew extremely close to like I have to my Bonded group during this event.
The operation definitely brings Evots and Exots together like it’s supposed to . . . but at what cost?