Chapter 20
TWENTY
GRYPHON
Even after all these years of being friends with the Draven brothers, only for those foundations to strengthen even more once we found out we all share the same Bond, I’m still left speechless sometimes at Nox’s ability to manipulate his way out of trouble with such ease.
North somehow managing to funnel Nox’s obsessive and neurotic research skills into something that actually benefits our Bond is no small feat either, but it pays off and in a huge way.
Nox figures out not only the Gift that’s being wielded but how to track the Gifted down.
For all his bravado to his brother, it takes longer than the single day he claimed was all he needed thanks to the legion of Resistance scouts, decoys, and protections on the Gifted. Every move we make is always met with vicious retaliation, but the escalation now is like nothing we’ve seen before.
The missions are grounded.
Unser and the rest of North’s advisers move in to damage control, rattled by the sheer mounting threats. North goes into overdrive dealing with the council and putting up an impenetrable front to stop any dissent brewing within the Top Tier families.
The anticipation eats at me, chipping away at my patience until I want to scream. Typically, it’s Nox who manages to put words to the writhing death-call in my blood, as though I’m a Death Dealer now as well purely by association.
With a scathingly derisive tone, he practically spat out his retort to their fears at the sole meeting he was compelled to attend. “They’re throwing their numbers around as a front while reeking of desperation; that means we’re close. We’d be fools to stop now and give them time to prepare.”
He’s right, I’m certain of it, but as my Bond becoming one of the Gifted who could be kidnapped becomes a very real threat, I have no choice but to side with North’s decision.
Nox fumes about it, but North and I refuse to prioritize hunting the Magnifier Gifted over protecting my Bond, so he holes himself up in the Draven mansion with his research files and plans out our next attempt.
I take watch over my Bond—at a distance so she has no idea I’m there—with the little down-time as North and Vivian will allow me. Fuck, if I wasn’t certain she’d rip my throat out, I’d glue myself to her side permanently until this mess is over with.
Instead, I’m stuck with Harrison in a van half a block away. He’s one of my most trusted subordinates, but he’s also the mouthiest of the lot. Even Kieran, my closest friend outside of my Bond Group, gives me less shit than this asshole does when he thinks he can get away with it.
There’s a tug in my chest the moment the door to the dorm rooms opens and Gabe steps out, scanning the area before my Bond steps out behind him.
She doesn’t wait for him to finish his sweep, I don’t think she even notices him doing it, and her body language screams ‘not fucking happy’ in a way that makes me feel violent.
There’s nothing in the area to worry about, but it’s instinct to check, to protect our Bond no matter the cost. Gabe’s shoulders are tense, his hands balled into fists at his side, and I’m instantly worried he’s about to have a power slip with our Bond standing right next to him.
They’re close enough that I could project the words directly into his mind, but it doesn’t take my Gift to figure out Gabe’s still struggling with being around our Bond.
Having me rifle around in his head will only push him closer to the edge and he’s the last person who deserves to be dealing with that.
I send him a text instead.
Harrison and I are in position as backup. I have guys further out, holding the perimeter, but there’s nothing flagging in the area. No matter what, I have you both covered. You can just focus on getting our Bond there.
She’s wearing the same outfit she was wearing the day Kieran grabbed her, only instead of the server's apron that made up her uniform for the diner she was working at, there's an oversized jacket thrown over her shoulders.
There’s still way too much skin showing.
The vehemence of that feeling settles like a weight in my gut, unease like ice in my blood.
I’ve never been possessive like this. I’m nothing like North when it comes to relationships, but the fractured state of our Bond Group has leached that poison into every inch of our lives, inescapable and unavoidable.
She’s not mine, and so the idea of anyone looking at her is intolerable.
Not that I’d parade her around if we were Bonded, I’m not into that shit either, but knowing that other Gifted can see her beauty, her perfection and her grace, and never hope to have something even close themselves, well, even the thought of that fills me with an intoxicating sort of pride.
Fuck, I’d be impossible to deal with, smug as shit at every opportunity.
Instead, I’m seething at the inches of her chest laid bare by the singlet top that should be burned for its crimes.
Harrison scoffs at my side, breaking me out of my spiraling anger. “Fuck, you’ve got it so bad, Shore.”
I shake my head at him, pulling the car out to follow behind Gabe at a reasonable distance. “I think there would be something wrong with me if I didn’t want my Bond, idiot.”
He doesn’t answer me for a full minute, the silence in the car charged with everything he doesn’t have the spine to say out loud, and it’s only when I scoff that he finally grows some balls.
“You don’t owe her all this. She ran away. You guys owe her nothing.”
My god, I’m so fucking sick of hearing that.
Inside the Bond Group or out, I’m done listening to my Bond being dragged when there’s very obviously more to the story than we know.
Kyrie’s words are still pinballing around my skull and, more importantly, my bond is squirming in my chest at the idea of me believing exactly what my Bond has telling us all, but I realize suddenly with absolute clarity that I do believe her.
Oleander Fallows did not run.
At least, she didn’t choose to—and that’s all that matters to me.
Whatever has happened to her, it’s made her certain that forcing distance between us all is the safest option, maybe the only one.
No matter the opinions of those around us all, it’s our duty and honor as Oleander Fallows’ Bonds to find whoever is responsible for this and deal with them.
My fingers tighten on the steering wheel so hard that the leather creaks in protest, but Harrison ignores the signs of his impending death, or maybe he doesn’t spot them in the first place.
He has the loyalty and the perception of invincibility despite the death and carnage we’ve endured, traits that have seen him climb the ranks with ease.
None of that changes the fact that he’s young and has an inflated ego, one that’s proving to be a real hazard for him while we’re on protection duty.
When the silence in the van stretches on, he raises an eyebrow at me with a scoff that is petulant enough to pass for a bratty huff.
“You really think she’s worth kicking Robert Morley’s kid out of Draven like that?
That man is a fucking nightmare—what the hell am I even saying?
You’re in a Bond Group with the Dravens, clearly your survival instincts have been damaged beyond repair. ”
Morley is a degenerate asshole who’s been on North’s watchlist for over a decade, but none of that even factored into my decision to throw Zoey out. She attacked my Bond. It was planned out, maliciously executed, and gave a true insight into how inept the Gifted would be as a Tac operative.
Honestly, Zoey is lucky she’s still breathing.
Harrison just keeps talking shit, slipping further into dangerous territory with every passing second. “I hope she’s worth all this, Shore. Your list of enemies is growing, and all for some airhead, mouthy girl—”
My bond surges to the surface and takes my Gift along with it. I have control of his mind before I even realize I’ve lashed out. His body freezes in that unnatural way that marks the use of my Gift, like he’s suddenly made of stone, except for the obvious panic in his eyes.
Waiting a full minute, I finally turn to stare him down, my own eyes filled with all of the fury he set alight. “The Dravens aren’t the only monsters out there, Harrison. You really shouldn’t forget that.”
We follow Gabe and my Bond all the way to Draven without incident.
Once there, the Delta TacTeam takes over guarding my Bond to stop any students from dropping dead in terror at our Bond Group all being in close quarters.
It’s infuriating, but I can’t argue that my Bond is safer without me in this instance.
Once I’m sure she’s safe, Harrison and I head to the Training Center.
Vivian is down in his office and the rest of my team is either training or on surveillance already, so I get Harrison into the sparring ring with Black to work off some of his asshole attitude, while I start in on the council reports North has oh-so-kindly left for me to trawl through.
It’s page after page of elitist bullshit.
Ignorance and pride are in every disgusting word, but it’s exactly this crap that kills people, so I have no choice but to read it all and flag any names that need to be investigated more thoroughly.
Unsurprisingly, it’s almost every name I come across, but I wasn’t really expecting anything different.
I lose track of time, and when a coffee cup appears in front of me, I’m shocked to find Nox standing across from me.
There’s a cup in his own hand and an overflowing file tucked under his arm along with his tablet.
He looks like the harried and brooding professor he was only months ago, before our Bond was found and the small pocket of peace he’d carved out was hit by a landmine.