Chapter 26 #2
He doesn’t look so happy about that offer but I leave him there to hunt down Nox and Gryphon, only to find out they’re both on the verge of blackout wasted at some dive bar.
I hold off on telling them anything about Benson’s discovery until they sleep it off, but no sooner have I poured them both into their own beds back at the Draven mansion than my Bond’s GPS flags to say she’s missed her curfew, which was hours ago, but Black followed her and Bassinger back to his apartment a few blocks away.
He knew Gryphon was with Nox, so he stayed nearby to wait her out, but they’ve made it clear she has no intentions of returning to the dorms.
Incensed, I convince myself that my fury is because she’s leaving me no choice but to intervene for her safety. It’s a far easier pill to swallow than facing the fact that Bassinger has managed to win her trust already, that she wants to be with him no matter the consequences.
That he protected her better than any of us have.
Blood and pain.
Sitting bolt upright in my bed, ice in my veins, my bond is awake and aware within me, but I have no clue of what has it calling me to arms to hunt for blood for a full, panicked minute.
Then the house shakes on its foundations.
My panic overrules my common sense. It’s clearly not an earthquake, something I’ve experienced enough times to be certain, but I’m still scrambling out of my bed and throwing myself desperately across the room toward my Bond before I can even process that the house is under attack.
Exactly zero of my brain cells are firing, but my bond snaps my hand out to grab my phone along the way.
I don’t understand why the hell it would even think of it until I’m standing before my Bond’s bedroom, watching as it takes command of my hands again to slip the key out of the pocket from my phone cover to unlock the door.
It doesn’t knock, no matter how adamant I am that we should, that it’s the right thing to do and a very basic form of respect that would barely delay us getting to her.
The door swings open to find her bed is slept in but empty.
It’s a split second before I find her standing by the window looking terrified as she gapes back at me, but my gut hollows out regardless.
Her eyes are too wide, too harried looking, and she stares at me, unblinking, until a voice breaks through the silence of the room and I spot the phone in her hand.
It’s not the one I gave her.
“Oli? Oleander, what the hell is happening up there?”
She jolts on her feet and her focus is broken, Bassinger clearly on the other end of the line. Of all the childish bullshit to deal with, going another round with that spoiled idiot is going to be my tipping point.
My eyes narrow at her. “You called him here?”
Her mouth opens before she jolts again, and I feel unease at the skittishness that is so far out of character for her.
Slowly, with the same sort of reluctant acceptance you’d expect from a death row inmate eating their final meal, she lowers her cell phone from her ear and switches the speaker phone on.
“Open your fucking door, Draven, because I’m not leaving without my Bond. And while you’re at it, tell your scumbag, rapist brother that I will kill him the second I find him.”
My heart stops dead in my chest.
Anything but that.
I could deal with any attempts at a smear campaign from Bassinger about me, or even one of the other Bonds. I could handle just about any attack on Nox’s character because I already have—no Draven has ever been allowed peace. But for Bassinger to go so low, I could set my nightmares on the asshole.
Then I look at my Bond again.
In a sickening rush, every ounce of contention and fight in me evaporates, leaving a gut-wrenching clarity behind.
My Bond stands there by the window, trembling as she stares at me, and I realize my resistance isn’t just to Bassinger’s accusation, but the conviction he’s said it with.
I spend my life in council meetings listening to the performances of keen manipulators—that’s not what this is.
Bassinger believes what he’s saying.
Struggling to find a tone that won’t frighten her further, I finally land on one and murmur to my Bond, “Come downstairs, Oleander. I’ll let Atlas in while I speak to Nox.”
“Hurry the fuck up,” Bassinger snaps. His tone leaves no question about who he’s speaking to like that, but Oleander still cringes at it.
Every breath she takes feels different somehow, a thread of shame in it all, and I find myself enraged at Bassinger, only I cannot fathom that my brother could possibly be responsible for this.
Hurting her? Lashing out and doing everything he can to distance himself from her?
Definitely. Weakening her relationship with her other Bonds as an act of self-preservation? Also yes.
But rape?
No.
Even if I thought he was capable of that, his trauma would never allow it. Even Gryphon is certain of that, his opinion holding a far less biased weight than my own thanks to his Gift.
After another moment, it becomes clear that my Bond is frozen in place.
Her complexion rivals the ghostly tones of her hair, the tremble still visible in her lip, and it’s suddenly impossible to overlook the fact that she’s nineteen years old.
That she was orphaned at fourteen. That her entire support system is made up of Bonds she’s wary of, at the very least, and outright tormented by if I’m completely honest. I’ve controlled all access to her, monitored all attempts at contact, and separated her from her own Bond when it didn’t fit into the parameters I’d put into place.
I’m sickened by myself.
In a gentle tone, I prompt her into moving. “Grab a sweater, the house is cool overnight.”
She doesn’t hit me with a fiery retort or even look in my direction, she simply walks over to that tiny duffle bag that I’m starting to think might truly hold every piece of clothing my Bond has access to, but she grabs out one that I know for certain is Gyphon’s.
The way she bundles herself into it and then wraps her arms around herself has a lump forming in the back of my throat, like she’s physically holding herself together.
Whatever the fuck has happened, someone is paying for it.
Leading her down the hallway, she keeps herself at arm’s length from me as I maintain a slow pace for her to match.
She doesn’t utter a sound, but when I also stay silent, there’s a pulse of power out of her.
For a single second, I think it’s a Gift, but then my bond rushes to answer her and I realize it must’ve been her bond reaching out with a desperate plea for comfort and reassurance.
Without being able to touch her, there’s very little my bond can offer her and it seethes under my skin with a vehemence that doesn’t bode well for Bassinger.
One wrong move and he may die tonight.
We step into the elevator together and the moment our gazes collide, she swallows roughly before her gaze drops to her toes. “I can talk to Atlas and sort this out. I just need a minute, you don’t have to intervene.”
The tears in her voice fill me with violence. “No, I’ll be getting to the bottom of this mess before it gets out of hand. There’s too much going on for me to deal with, without adding a feud in my Bond to the list. I will deal with Nox if that’s what’s required.”
If I was hoping to reassure her, it backfires spectacularly.
By the time the doors open, she looks as though she’s going to be sick, her skin taking on an almost greenish hue.
I pause for a moment as I consider calling this off and taking her back upstairs, to offer her whatever comfort I possibly can, but then I remember Bassinger is probably the only Bond who can help right now.
I have no choice but to lead her to him.
Rafe and two of the overnight staff are huddled by the front door, and my driver is instantly relieved the moment he sees me. “I’ve called the authorities and the HOA, we’re on top of damage control, sir.”
The man is a godsend and I nod to him. “Thank you, Rafe. I’ll take it from here.”
Stepping around them all, I open the door to find the extensive damage Bassinger has wrought as well as the Bond himself, his eyes boring into me with utter rage before he’s practically shoving his way past me to get to my Bond.
Taking note of what he’s capable of—more than any of us had guessed—I almost miss Oleander’s response to him, the most damning evidence so far.
The moment his intentions to hold her become clear, she takes a step away to avoid the connection.
To Bassinger’s credit, he slams to a halt without hesitation.
He doesn’t look at me, not at the other men in the room, no one.
Every tiny scrap of his focus is on our Bond, and I can almost feel his heart breaking in his chest but when I glance at her, the sound is drowned out by my own.
She wasn’t rejecting him, or scorning his attempts at comfort. She’s terrified.
My Bond is standing there before us trembling and trying to stop herself from crying.
She glances up to meet his gaze and recognizes the agony in his expression, her own heart cracking even worse, but when she moves as if she’s going to comfort him, my bond warns me before my brother arrives.
I’m not ready to see him.
I’m not ready to know the truth of what’s happened.
When he practically stumbles out of the garage, he sneers at my Bond and then Bassinger.
When Atlas snarls back, Oleander throws herself at Bassinger, and my entire body tenses at the action but he instantly stands down.
He’s strong enough that he’s just torn apart the entire front of my house in his rage, so it’s clear it’s her touch alone that stops him and not any attempts at physically restraining him.