17 #2
I think after today, Joseph has become something else entirely.
We all hated him before, truly and utterly, with a loathing I had no idea a person could even harbour, but after today .
. . I can’t even comprehend it. It’s a miracle we managed to leave that .
. . that abomination in as good a condition as we did.
He’ll likely need to go to the infirmary, but that was nothing—absolutely nothing—compared to what I want to see done to him.
The Game Master’s death will not be an easy or quick one. I’ll make sure of it.
“I’ll take them off,” Tiger volunteers, attempting to ease the tension in the room with a flash of his teeth. But his grin doesn’t last long, and it’s just another blow today that has me wondering just how much more I can take.
It’s silent for a while as we watch Tiger strip her, and Cooper helps, shifting her cautiously as if he’s afraid he might break her. In any other circumstances, the thought would be humorous, but right now, Ezla almost looks . . . fragile. The sight of her like this is fucking killing me.
Tate heads into the hallway, taking her pyjamas and underwear with him to put the former in the washing machine to remove the scent of him from them and to dispose of the latter, before returning a few minutes later with his own pyjama top and a pair of boxer briefs for a better fit over his much larger shorts.
For once, he doesn’t look moments away from pouncing on our Bonded, even with her nakedness.
He only works with Tiger and Cooper to clothe her, not making a sound.
When they’re done, we can only stare. I don’t know what to do here, and I’m trying hard to not think of this as all my fault yet again, but it’s hard when I know I’ve failed to protect Ezla.
And that makes me feel even worse, guilt pressing down on me as I remember how unmistakably hurt she’d been by my self-destructive behaviour recently, the constant blaming of myself for everything.
She’d be really fucking pissed at me right now if she were awake.
Cupping the back of his neck, Cooper’s head drops back to look at the glinting black ceiling. “What the fuck do we do?”
“I’m staying in here. All day, all night.
I don’t care,” Tate says roughly, then proceeds to strip himself down to his underwear without any warning, dumping himself down on the bed beside Ezla once he’s done.
He doesn’t touch her, as if afraid he might hurt her, simply fixes his eyes on her face unwaveringly as he lies on his side.
“Havoc will wake up.” He says that like the determination in his voice will bring her back to us, and if he keeps repeating that enough times, maybe I’ll start to believe it too.
Moving myself to the edge of the bed, I take a seat on Ezla’s right, reaching out to touch her and softly brushing some dark chestnut strands from her forehead. I don’t know if it’s the sheets contrasting with her already-fairer skin tone, but she looks concerningly pale.
Hesitantly moving closer, my lips pause above her forehead before tenderly pressing to her skin.
When I pull back, I’m half expecting her to spring up and chew me out, but she doesn’t.
Of course she doesn’t. And Alby’s earlier words are distressingly true—she does look gone.
But I refuse to believe she is. I refuse to believe that there’s not a way to see those mesmerising mismatched eyes again, to feel them digging into me with all her attention when she gives it.
She’s so damn cruel, yet she really has a way of making the five of us feel special, and I don’t think she ever even means to.
A thought occurs to me then, and I lift my head, gaze coming to rest on Cooper, who’s already watching me with something like . . . envy?
My brows dip with a frown, but the look is gone before I can study it more.
I know there’s sometimes a subtle jealousy in this group, but that’s usually only when we’ve been impatient to have our turns with our Bonded.
Other than with Tate, it’s never affected our relationship; it’s nothing to be concerned about, and I think it’s only natural that we’ll feel sparks of it sometimes when we’re all so eager for Ezla.
But Cooper’s expression . . . that seemed like something more than that, like he was truly envious, the kind that might be lingering.
I shelve that for another time, because I don’t have the current headspace to figure out the meaning behind his look, and say what I was going to: “Let me start by saying, I don’t think we should wait this long, but . . . Joseph would want her in Game 5.”
The tension that’s been simmering in the room rises.
Tate stiffens, tearing his gaze away from Ezla where he’d fully sunk into her to glare into me viciously. “We’re not waiting a week,” he spits out through gnashing teeth.
“As I just said, I don’t think we should. But if worse comes to worst, we have that slight reassurance. But in the meantime, we can try to figure this out.”
Tiger and Alby move over to the bed and sit with me along Ezla’s right side. The former asks, “And how do we do that? Blackmail the Game Master?”
Cooper’s head shakes, jaw rigid. “With what? He won’t wake her until he’s good and ready. And fuck knows what she’ll be like when he does. If we’re going to make a plan, we need one now.”
“Has . . . has anyone tried reaching her through the bond yet?” Alby asks quietly.
There’s a brief pause, and I know we’re now all doing just that, though I myself have already tried multiple times since we found her, and I’m pretty sure they have too.
Tate’s following violent rumble is answer enough.
I scrub a hand over my face. “I don’t understand it,” I mutter. “She’s no longer in that enclosure—shouldn’t at least something have changed?”
“Maybe Joseph was lying? Maybe it’ll just take a bit for her to wake naturally?” Tiger suggests, tone brightening a bit, but his voice still wavers.
A heavy sigh leaves me, and with it, I can feel my energy draining. “I don’t think so, Tiger. I think Joseph was telling the truth when he said only he knows how to wake her.”
Cooper makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, looking down at our motionless Bonded again. “There has to be something.”
Shoulders slumped, I graze a knuckle over Ezla’s cheek.
She’s not cold or too hot, simply neutral like all rooms are, and that’s probably the only reason I haven’t completely lost myself here.
As long as she’s not lost all her body heat to add to the rest of the lifelessness about her, it means she’s still here.
Thumb moving to her neck, I gently press it to the faint pulse there, just to remind myself of the truth of my thoughts, relief sweeping through me at the gentle beat against my skin. But it can’t cleanse me of the exhaustion and dread clumped together uncomfortably inside me.
“I think we should all get some rest,” I say lowly.
“What?”
I hold up a hand to halt the barrage of questions I can sense are ready to barrel into me after that collective one from my brothers.
“I know it’s not even evening yet, but what I do know is you’re all as drained as I am.
So let’s get some food and rest, and we can think with clearer heads when we wake. ”
“But what if Joseph comes in and tries to take Ezla back?” Alby asks shakily, slim fingers twitching like he’s desperate to touch our Bonded but too nervous like usual. “The protection for Bonded chambers and washrooms doesn’t work on him.”
My lips tighten. “I would hope he wouldn’t be so unintelligent when we overpowered him so quickly.”
Cooper’s face scrunches. “What was he thinking letting us get to her so easily?”
Forehead creasing, I pause at that, hand stilling where it had just started to run through Ezla’s hair.
That’s a damn good question, one I remember thinking as we searched the penthouse and no alarms went off.
And Ezla said he was exceptionally skilled, so I don’t really understand what happened there.
Even with five of us, shouldn’t there have been a bit more of a fight?
The relief of having my Bonded back in my arms had drowned the unease out, but now it slithers back into me in ominous tendrils.
Warily, my eyes roam over Ezla’s sleeping face, stalling on that thick inky-crimson scar splitting it apart.
And yet another time today, I whisper, “I don’t know . . . I really don’t know . . .”