Chapter 3
THREE
GABE
The very last thing I want to do after having my heart torn out of my chest by my own Bond is go into the debriefing rooms and talk about what I did to those Resistance scouts, but I do it.
I sit outside the office for over an hour before North and the other Senior Tac Ops arrive to ask me the usual slew of questions, though North is good about fielding a lot of the bullshit for me.
I’ve never asked him who takes the lead for his debriefing and whether he gets the same preferential treatment, but today I'm just fucking grateful for his intervention.
When he finally directs the others to leave, calling the report more than sufficient, he stays put and I know without a word that I need to do the same.
Once the door is firmly closed behind the other Ops, North sighs as though the entire world is on his shit list before he glances up to meet my eye. “How are you really feeling?”
All of the warmth and easy smiles he just had on display are gone but, despite the steep learning curve, I’m fluent in the confusing and intricate mannerisms of the Dravens.
Outsiders get the facade of the placid and unbothered councilman, the sedate man with an air of harmlessness around him that quickly has you questioning the rumors that surround his bloodline.
Only those North trusts most get to see beyond his carefully designed persona to the viciously loyal and cutthroat caretaker he really is.
Meaning, despite the hard tone of his voice and cold look on his face, I know for a fact that he’s eager to set a nightmare creature on someone right now for sinking me into such misery.
If only the person responsible wasn’t our Bond.
The problem is that it only makes me feel more pathetic. The rest of our doomed Bond Group held their shit together in that interrogation room far better than I did, no one else bolted so they could puke their guts up.
I bury my face in my hands so I don't have to look at him.
“I know I have to do the counselling session, and I know you've already got way too much on your plate today, but can I do it now and get it out of the way so I don't have to come back here? I don’t… want to hang around.”
North’s good about not forcing me to explain myself, to say out loud that I want to run as far as my feet can fucking get me away from this building and our Bond’s words.
Instead, he shuffles some papers around in his hands for a moment as though he's thinking about something, an old habit, before he answers. "I was planning on enrolling Oleander into the same classes as you at Draven so you can keep an eye on her. I can make changes if that’s… unfavorable to you.”
I swallow roughly, rubbing my face a little harder as though I can shift this misery. "She’s safer with one of us watching her."
“It's just as easy to enroll her into online classes and keep her at the mansion until we get some real answers."
I scoff but it’s a pathetic sound. “I have the only answer I need. I really thought there had to be a reason for her to leave, something big. I was sure we must’ve missed something.”
North’s jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth, and it takes him a second before he pegs me with a hard look.
“No matter what else happens, Gabe, you need to remember that none of this is your fault. She made up her mind about us all long before she ever met us; that’s her failure, not ours.
She has no idea the men we are, what we’ve done for her already, what we’ve lost…
none of it. If you need space from her, then you’ll have it.
I have more than enough staff to watch over her and guard her. ”
I swallow roughly, then again, so I’m sure my voice will still come out even, and then I finally meet his eyes. “No, I’ll do it. Don’t make any changes to the plan.”
With a curt nod, he leaves without another word, trusting that I know what I'm doing even though I'm certain he’s wrong. I don’t know how much time passes as I sit at that table and stare at my hands, but finally there's another knock at the door and my usual therapist pokes her head in.
When I don't immediately grin at her in greeting like I normally do, Charlotte's own smile dims a little, but she gets on with the session easily enough.
There’s no clock in the room, but time seems to drag on.
I’m not sure if it's just my woeful mental state but the questions are far harder to answer than they usually are, and I feel myself getting needlessly defensive with every passing minute. With the monthly schedule all TacTeam personnel are put on, there’s a set pattern these sessions always follow, but when I finally answer the last standard question, she doesn't smile and dismiss me like usual.
Instead, she gives me a pitying look. “Is there anything else you want to talk about, anything causing you distress? It’s pretty clear to me that something terrible has happened, Gabe, and I’m here to help you.”
‘I don’t want any of you.’
Even sharing their Neuro classification, Charlotte isn’t even in the same ballpark as Gryphon ability-wise, so all I have to do is keep the miserable dejection from my face and I’ll make it out of this stupid fucking room.
But I can’t.
I watch her settle back into her seat, a serene look pasted onto her own face, and it’s suddenly so obvious to me that she’s baiting me. She has to be. There’s no way she’s been circling around the gaping hole in my chest, put there by my own Bond, and doesn’t know what she’s doing.
My hands fist at my side, my bond rippling in my chest in protest, and I barely hear the knock at the door that has Charlotte startling. She scowls for a moment before standing to answer it with murmured apologies to me, her tone far snippier at whoever is interrupting us.
Too bad for her, Kieran is immune to shitty Gifted attitudes.
He shoves his way into the room with his shoulders and jerks his head at me. “C’mon, Ardern, I’m taking you back to finally get some sleep.”
Charlotte bristles at him, then at me when I stand. “We haven’t finished here! I can’t sign him off unless—”
Kieran cuts her off. “Unless nothing, he’s been in here for hours. Sign him off or explain yourself to Draven.”
When she scowls at him again, he smirks back. “Nox Draven. North’s been pulled into another meeting and he’s put his brother in charge while he’s unavailable. You have Nox’s number, right? Of course you do.”
No one would willingly engage with Nox on a good day, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that today is so far from that for any of our Bond Group.
Charlotte gulps and doesn’t try protesting again as Kieran finally slaps a hand on my shoulder and Transports me out.
We arrive at the front door of my childhood home and it suddenly doesn’t matter that I can’t keep the misery from my face because everyone knows how fucked this place has become for me.
Scratching at the back of my neck, it’s easier to talk now that it’s about something that isn’t my Bond. “Thanks. How did you know?”
Kieran shrugs, good about scowling around at the other mansions in the gated community rather than eyeballing me.
“It was going on for too long. I’ve done a million of those things, I know how long it should last. When I ran out of decent reasons you could possibly need to still be in there, I decided enough was enough.
I wasn’t expecting any bullshit from her, not after Gryph vetted her, but I’m glad Draven’s control issues caught this one. What was she after?”
I scoff. “Probably intel on North for one of the other council members. She was pushing about my… well, the Bond. North was right, she’s a target now whether she wants us or not.”
He doesn’t even attempt to broach the mess of our Bond’s blanket rejection of us all, his mouth only tightening as he gives me a curt nod just like North had. “Forget about the therapist. I’ll send Nox after her and you’ll never see the bitch again.”
I swallow roughly, rubbing my hands over my face one last time, but it’s no use. There’s no shifting the worthlessness I’m feeling now, and the silence that greets me as I open the front door of my so-called home only doubles it.
I wake to a barrage of text messages from my classmates and friends, word having already gotten out about my Bond being dragged back to Draven, thanks to North walking her onto the campus to see the Dean.
There are even photos of them both in the group chat I’ve been added to, that I barely glance at before blocking them all.
The loathing she’d thrown at us all wasn’t just evident on my Bond’s face in the photos, nope, it’s etched into every fucking pixel of that image until I want to puke.
The responses from the entire Freshman class sends me over the edge.
Even though I’m aware that half of shit in the texts is just bullshit gossip, and the other half is assholes digging for information, I still have to go on a long morning jog to burn off some of the embarrassment sending my own bond into a writhing meltdown.
I’m gutted that my life is quickly devolving into caretaking for a mother who’s checked out, fielding questions from people trying to attack my Bond Group, and guarding a Bond who doesn't want me.
When I get back from my run, Nina has already arrived for the day, and some of the tension in my shoulders eases the moment I see her car in the driveway.
When I duck into the kitchen to grab a protein shake for breakfast, she greets me with a smile, already rummaging through the fridge as if it’s possible to find something my mom will accept.
She’s back on her hunger strikes, refusing to take care of herself in any way, and I feel sickened by the sight of her emaciated frame.
I do my best to avoid interacting with her altogether.