Chapter 7 #2
Gryphon is standing in front of him with a downright vicious look on his face, one I haven’t seen him wear for years.
I’ve certainly never seen him look at Gabe like that, and my own hackles immediately rise.
Gryphon has been seething mad at me since I stupidly pushed him for answers, my overwhelmingly exhaustive list of threats and dangers making me snap, but that’s no excuse to be acting like an asshole to Ardern, who’s only ever stepped up and pitched in.
Stalking over to them both, it’s only when Gryphon’s head lifts to meet my gaze and his stance shifts to cover Gabe’s miserable form from me entirely that I falter. I’m clearly misreading everything, looking for threats where they don’t belong, and I force myself to take a breath.
“What’s happened?”
With a curt head shake, Gryphon projects his answer directly into my mind. The medical building is overflowing with Gifted right now, and it’s standard practice for us to have these sorts of conversations in a way that no one can overhear them, but my stomach clenches at the action regardless.
Oli was found unconscious on the Delta Training Course.
The camera covering that section was mysteriously malfunctioning at the exact moment the incident occurred.
I was on my way to her when Gabe realized she was taking too long to get to the finish line.
He went back in for her, along with others from his team. When he found her, he Shifted.
My eyes immediately flick to Gabe. If he feels my gaze, he doesn’t lift his head, but it doesn’t matter anyway because Gryphon instantly responds by shifting to block him from my sight once more, as though I’m the threat here.
Frustration claws at me, forcing me to take another deep breath before it takes hold of me but, fuck, does it rankle me that he’s assuming I’m blaming Gabe for this at all.
I remind myself that it’s been a very long day; clearly for both of us.
How many casualties?
The depth of fury on Gryphon’s face somehow deepens. Are you going to ask if my Bond is okay?
His Bond; a clear line drawn in the sand before me as though he’s baiting me for a fight, but it’s a useless one.
I don’t need to ask after Oleander, I can feel her in the room they’re both standing guard over.
My own bond claws at me relentlessly, threatening me with a thousand more violent deaths if we don’t go to her now, but I don’t know how much of that is a normal bond reaction and how much is the result of having this abnormality within me.
Can they feel her like I can?
Do they know where she is at all times, as though their entire world revolves around her and draws them in on a siren-like call?
Can they feel every fiber of their being turning toward her, clawing after her, desperately keening in her wake?
Are they as miserable about her selfish actions and scorning attitude?
Gabe certainly looks it.
I trust you would’ve called me directly if she wasn’t.
Gryphon’s eyes narrow, not liking that answer, but he doesn’t seem to notice the careful sidestepping I’m doing. He’s never guessed the one real secret I’ve kept from him, and the rest of the world, but who would ever guess that there’s something else living within me?
Everyone survived the attack, but there were eleven students and two of my team injured. I’ll be seeing the students out myself.
That’s not that unusual, Gryphon has joined me to speak with families before, but there’s something in his tone that has me giving him a questioning look.
Gabe Shifted because a group of students followed after him and his friends. They were taunting him, which he ignored, but when they found Oli unconscious, several made it clear they thought she deserved worse. One even suggested he take the opportunity to Bond with her while she was out.
My eyes shift to black.
I squeeze them shut as my bond surges to the surface, demanding control to wipe the threat out, and it takes an ungodly amount of strength to win out over it.
I’m certain I’m going to fail and it’s only at the last possible second that it relents, bile clawing up my throat as my legs threaten to give out in relief.
Even when I’m sure of my control, I have to take a moment to get myself in check, just to be sure I’m not about to end up in a bed beside my bond.
When I finally let out a breath, dropping my hand away from my face, I find Gabe gaping at me, but Gryphon’s anger has eased off some.
I’ll go deal with the students and their families’ reactions. Gabe can come with me. I’ll talk him out of his guilt, and we’ll see you back at the mansion. Have fun convincing Oli to join us all for dinner.
Dinner.
Right, my plan of forcing our Bond into our presence to find some middle ground between us all… because that’s not going to be a nightmare for us all after today’s events, now is it?
I curse under my breath, but Gryphon looks far too pleased with himself for my liking. You’re supposed to be chewing me out for losing my shit.
He scoffs at me, shaking his head as he claps Gabe on the shoulder and gets him moving.
Our Bond was threatened; you’re supposed to lose your shit, Draven. I was beginning to think I was going to have to monitor you around her as well as your brother, but I suppose you’ve proved yourself—for now.
I almost took out the entire building.
Stalking off without looking back, Gryphon doesn’t seem to give a fuck about that, or anything else, and I’m once again writhing with jealousy.
What I wouldn’t give to know when our Bond is lying, or have some semblance of a clue of her thoughts, maybe then I could find some of that self-assurance he’s happily throwing around right now.
Instead, I have a bond eating me alive from the inside and nightmare creatures lying in wait to finish the job.
Pausing in front of the door for a moment, I squeeze my eyes shut firmly and take a moment to negotiate with the enraged sentient being within me.
I’ll find out who brought her harm—the precise Gifted, and not just our best guess—and we’ll deal with them accordingly. Self-destructing is not going to keep her safe, and we’re only wasting time arguing over the helm.
It's not entirely satisfied, not until I imagine very clearly the only justice I’ll accept for laying hands on my Bond.
The violence and bloodshed within my plans calms my bond until it simmers back into the dark recesses of my mind to watch—hopefully—silently, for now.
Not that I could lie to it, but I have every intention of following through with my promises.
I’d never allow someone to harm her, no matter how selfish and petty she’s proving to be.
It’s not just my integrity that demands retribution, but a real safety concern.
Any Gifted shown leniency for acts of violence against our Bond Group will only come back to haunt us, and I've worked too hard, and for far too long, to let that slip. Even if Oleander proves to be unworthy of that protection, my brother isn’t, and I’ll be damned if I let anything else happen to him.
I can't let myself think any further down that line, not when I'm already hanging on to my control by a thread, but when I finally open the door, I find I have a whole new problem to contend with.
If you asked me what my preferences were before I met Oleander, my particular nature rendered that question impossible to answer.
Staring down at my Bond, there’s no doubting she was made for me, whether she accepts that or not.
The halo of soft white tresses falling in waves over her shoulders, the alluring blue eyes framed in long lashes, the sultry pout of her lips; the beauty of her is undeniable, which is a problem for me right now.
My bond only sees one thing when it looks at her; mine.
When her eyes snap open abruptly, her expression is unguarded for a moment before she focuses on me, and the way she looks so fragile makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Right.
Get her spitting mad and throwing her insults around, that’ll distract me at least, and I might even get some answers about which piece of shit did this to her. My bond and my nightmare creatures need a hunt.
“If you’re planning on hurting yourself to get my attention regularly, I should warn you that I’ll be happy to throw you in a padded cell until you grow out of the compulsion.”
She blinks at me, gaping for a second before her temper ignites and she takes the bait beautifully. “I know you’re not here to ream me out right now over some bitch taking a cheap swing at me. I know you wouldn’t be here for that because if you are, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
When she struggles to sit up, my eyes narrow as she clutches a hand gingerly to her head. I can’t see anything there, but her skin turns a sickeningly green hue and she swallows convulsively.
There’s a trash can in the corner of the room, but I force myself to stay put. Goading information out of her only works if she’s pushed to her limits, and I’ll only be helping her continue her games if I treat her the way my own bond is demanding me to.
Would she even accept my help when she’s made it very clear she wants nothing from any of us?
With a hoarse tone, she still manages to snap at me viciously, “Why would I wait until the last quarter mile to pull a stunt like that? Why would I wade through the river, crawl on my belly over rocks and dirt, and climb that stupid, stinking frame if I was planning on… wait, what exactly do you think I did to knock myself out? Jesus fucking Christ.”
Flinging an arm dramatically, her face pales even further and she slumps forward in the bed, gagging a little. The soft mewling sound that squeaks out of her is drenched in misery, pitiful and aching, and I never want to hear it ever again.