Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
NORTH
Drowning in security threats, complaints from entitled council members, and managing Nox’s unrelenting hunt, I am entirely unprepared for spring break, but it appears out of nowhere and quickly becomes a living nightmare for me regardless.
Despite our best efforts, no signs of Toby have been found and his parents’ Bonded Group disappears before I’m able to speak with them.
There are no indications of Resistance activity at their house, and we can only assume they’ve gone into hiding.
Part of me hopes they found Toby themselves.
The rest of me knows there’s no chance of that, not for any Gifted, and certainly not for those in our community without a shred of training.
They’ve only ever lived in gated communities, been educated in private establishments, socialized in vetted Top Tier circles—Toby is gone, and I’m certain his parents are desperate to keep their remaining child safe.
I can’t imagine making the same decision, but I also can’t imagine living without the seething, violent, borderline–psychotic bond within me.
The same one that’s still fixated on that pit of bones despite how hard I’m trying to forget it.
It’s not squeamishness or fear; I’ve seen a lot of carnage and horror thanks to this utterly pointless conflict.
The emotion I feel is undoubtedly shame, but I’ll hide it from every single Gifted until I find my grave to lie in.
Any other response to the excitement that lit up my bond at the sheer volume of death is unthinkable and would only make me the monster the Gifted community claims that I am.
Throwing myself into work is the only way I know how to avoid drowning in my own misery, and after more than a decade of holding my family’s seat on the council, it’s easier than breathing to trim away the raw and the real until I’m left with a neat, palatable cardboard cutout of the sedate and good-natured councilman.
All it really takes is a tailored Tom Ford suit, a pair of Hermes loafers, and a smile full of straight, white teeth to hide the destruction brewing within me from the vain and self-important idiots.
The few who aren’t so full of themselves are also those who share my horror and fury at the abductions, so they’ll look away from the part I’m performing without a word otherwise.
The emergency meeting is pointless, hours of me explaining for the thousandth time that we don’t have the resources to assign TacTeams to every single Gifted family.
None are brave enough to say what they really want, which is just their own families guarded, and when Sharpe pushes back by pointing out the detail currently following my own Bond’s every move, the rest of the table is put on notice as a result.
“As you said, Sharpe, I’m the council member responsible for security and the defense of the West Coast Gifted community.
Three Bonds within the Draven Bond Group are on active duty within the TacTeams; Shore is full-time, while my brother and I are on call thanks to our other duties within the community.
A fourth Bond serves on recovery missions and defensive deployment as required.
Despite the fact that Gabriel Ardern is a college student who hasn’t had the opportunity to complete his formal Tactical Training, the dire shortage of personnel forced us to look to the upcoming students that show promise, and with a Gift like his, it was the only option we could take.
He risks his life, witnesses countless horrors, and has made himself a target, all to keep our community safe. ”
Sharpe’s eyes are hard and brimming with hatred, but the rest of the table is practically squirming in discomfort in their seats.
It’s a well-known fact that they all discourage their children from enrolling in the Training courses at Draven, and those who do never join the teams after they graduate.
The only exception is Harrison, who openly defied his father’s very public demands not to ‘throw away his life’ like that, but despite this, Rockelle is sitting down the table from me and sweating with as much terror pouring out of him as the rest.
The gutless fool was also just whining the most for a personal bodyguard, so he’s on my shit list.
I shouldn’t, it’s only going to bite me in the ass later, but I lower my tone and let some of the violence I feel slip into the warning as I stare Sharpe down from across the table.
“Every Bond in the Draven Bond Group is a target of the Resistance. This fact is not in question, it’s undeniable.
Our names have appeared on Resistance hit lists multiple times, and there’s even a bounty on our heads large enough to retire an entire generation of Lower Tier families.
I, myself, am pictured in the conversion propaganda given out by the East Coast at schools and community events.
Given this, as well as the strength of the Gifts we all possess and the catastrophic damage a slip would cause if something were to happen to her, our Central Bond has been identified as a priority.
This decision was not made solely by me, but by the entire Tactical Response Board.
I suggest you take your complaints to the Training Center.
I’m sure Vivian would be more than happy to share his own assessment. ”
The greatest gift Vivian’s loyalty and friendship has ever given me is the ability to throw his name into the mix and watch the cretins scurry back into their hiding places in fear.
I know for an absolute fact that Sharpe would rather sit here and go toe to toe with me every day of the week than sit before that man for a single minute, and that’s what gets the traitorous asshole to finally drop his gaze away from mine.
The clash doesn’t just stop the growing indignation of the council dead in its tracks, but it also ensures the meeting is quickly brought to a close.
No one will meet my eye or disagree with a word I’ve spoken, heads bowed and desperate to flee.
It would feel more like a victory if I weren’t being forced to attend a social event for the community afterward that everyone at this table will also be at.
As the cars lining the affluent street come into view, the weight on my shoulders seems to triple and my skin begins to crawl with irritation.
The benefits my brother’s antisocial behavior affords him have never been clearer to me.
He was infuriated when the TacTeams were grounded again because of the abductions, but the moment he found out Toby was one of the Gifted taken, he’d checked out of real life entirely.
Right now, he’s back at the mansion, holed up in his office while he maps out the known camp locations to plan a recovery mission, all while I’m here, praying for an emergency to get me out of this.
Unfortunately, one of us needs to be the community-facing Draven to ensure we’re not burned at the stake for the demonic void eyes we’re cursed with- and Nox has already claimed the recluse brother position.
I’ll have to attend the party, kicking and screaming, though hopefully I’ll manage to keep that part in my head.
When Rafe pulls into the driveway of the Halliwell’s mansion, I seriously consider just going home, but my door opens before I can make up my mind.
“If I have to show my face at this stupid party, then you do too—and before you start whining, our Bond is already in the building, so we will be going.”
I shoot Gryphon a look as I slide out of the car. “I don’t whine, and leaving her here was never even a question.”
He leans down to greet Rafe warmly before he dismisses him, intent on removing any options of escape for me like the complete asshole he’s clearly hellbent on being.
Luckily, despite the cars parked everywhere, there’s no one around to witness his jabs at me, but Gryphon has never been the careless type.
Unfortunately, he is stubborn.
“Whatever you say, Draven, but we both know slinging her over your shoulder and making a run for it will only get your face ripped off.”
I scoff at him. “You’re assuming she’s not in there right now hating it as much as we’re about to. We don’t have to see eye to eye on much to agree that this party is pointless. If she doesn’t agree, then… god, things are worse than I thought.”
Gryphon shakes his head with a smirk, stalking ahead of me like a dick. He knows exactly how much I hate it when he does that, which pushes all of my buttons, and I start to think I’ve done something to piss him off.
“You haven’t, but there’s no way I’m standing out on the curb for the next hour while you get this temper tantrum out of your system, so I’m giving you a little push.”
Stalking up the front steps behind him, I throw a look back over my shoulder at his infuriatingly smug expression. “Get out of my head.”
He chuckles under his breath, shoving the front door open without hesitation. “I’m not in it—your face is practically screaming in protest, though. You might want to get that under control before we run into Sharpe or one of his little snakes. Daniella is supposed to be here, isn’t she?”
Fuck.
My footsteps falter, but only because the reminder of what the real battle we’re staring down is and what’s at stake.
My Bond is attending, she’s probably already here if the way my blood writhing in my veins can be trusted, and with the entire council here, there are at least a dozen Top Tier Gifted with grudges against me present.
She’s already proved to have little awareness of the political games we’re all being forced to endure to keep our Bond Group safe.
Or maybe she knows it as well and just doesn’t care.
Either way, I cannot leave without her.