Chapter 13 #3
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes so intense they seemed to burn my skin, leaving me anxious and unsettled. Zion had this gift: looking at someone and making them feel uncomfortable just for existing.
“Why?” This time his voice had an even sharper edge. “I thought it was pretty obvious, but maybe I was wrong to think your intelligence could follow the logic.”
My jaw dropped.
“Are you calling me stupid?”
“Not exactly, but I'd say someone with a higher IQ would've already figured out that I want distance.”
Zion's voice carried something bitter—I could almost taste it on my own tongue. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the pain that had pierced my chest. I never stopped being amazed at my heart's ability to still be hurt by things that should have left it calloused by now.
Zion kept staring at me, gauging my every reaction to his words.
“It would've been simpler to just say so, but you preferred to run away like the arrogant coward you are.” I clenched my hands into fists, holding myself still. “And what about all the promises you made in that hospital room?”
My throat was a hard, painful knot. Zion hesitated at those words, as if he too had been blindsided by the memories and lost the ground beneath his feet. He seemed to want to ask something, looking confused, but quickly composed himself and the serious facade returned.
“I promised you protection, a safe place, and company. You're inside three walls, living in a comfortable house with Kiara. I kept my word. I don't know what else you expect from me, Kyller.”
I sighed and looked away. He was right—those had been his exact words. Zion had rambled about other things, but none of them had been promises. I heard him scoff and looked up, only to see him let out a mocking laugh as he continued:
“What? Did you really expect us to tie the compatibility bond? You and me?”
I felt my face burn, embarrassed and small beside him.
By the scalding abyss, I should have been retorting—I should have set his hair on fire for talking to me like this—but those words hit me deep, in a spot already cracked and exposed in my chest. Rejection from Interion didn't shake me, but being spurned by a partner, someone who should be part of me, hurt in a searing way.
“I didn't mean that,” I murmured, looking away so he wouldn't see the humiliation written on my face. “I wouldn't dare bring up something like that. I just wanted to be your friend.”
Zion stayed silent for so long I thought he'd disappeared into the shadows and left me there alone. When he spoke again, his voice was firm, cold, and once more carried that bitter edge:
“Friend? You've got to be kidding me.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. My thoughts were a jumble, but the pain was clear and all too real. Each of his words cut as sharp as the arrowheads I'd shot that day. Standing face to face, it felt like I might suffocate at any moment.
I was finally ready to turn and flee that horrible situation when he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, stopping me from leaving.
The moment our bodies touched, a current slammed into me full force, pulling me closer to him, and I gasped at the whirlwind of sensations that hit me.
Amid the chaos of feelings, I realized there was a connection between our minds and figured it must be the bond.
I'd never felt it so tangible before. Zion took advantage of the link being more active and, with impossible force, pulled my mind into his.
One moment I was at the academy, and the next I was staring at a dimly lit room.
I stared in horror at the dark cellar where he kept all the breeding women and descendants he'd captured.
Some wept in despair, others shielded their families with their own bodies, and some were broken beyond repair—but above all, every single one of them was desperate.
Then the images twisted and shifted, revealing a battlefield littered with countless decomposing bodies.
Fragments of a suffering, abused people flashed through my mind—a dignified, righteous people who'd had the misfortune of being born in the wrong place.
Before he could add more disturbing images, I pushed him away, severing the connection. I shoved Zion with all the strength my shocked limbs could muster, but I only managed to make him take a single step back. Tears welled in my eyes, and my legs trembled like jelly.
“My people!” My voice came out strangled. “You killed them,” I shouted, bracing myself against the training table.
These were the images I'd spent years trying to avoid—my own partner, the murderer of innocent people.
“Do you understand?” he asked, his eyes promising war.
“You killed all of them,” I stammered, trying to compose myself, but my mind was in shock, unable to break free from that sticky trap. “How can you live with the weight of this atrocity? How do you have the audacity to take innocent lives and call yourself some damn proud general?”
“Someone has to deal with this problem. Unfortunately, that someone is me.”
Not a people. Not persons. Just... a problem. That was how the world saw us.
“You're a monster.”
The images still flashed through my memory. They were good people who had suffered—perhaps friends I'd grown up with, gone to school with, loved.
“Great, now you understand! I hope that was enlightening about why this 'friendship' isn't a good idea.”
He turned his back and walked away. A cold hatred I never thought I could feel consumed my heart.
“One day you'll pay for all of this,” I said, my hands clenched into fists.
Zion stopped for a second, his entire body radiating perverse fury as shadows slithered like serpents across his skin.
“There's not a day I don't pay, Kyller.”
Another icy wind whipped through my hair, and then he vanished into the shadows.
I let myself collapse against the table, shaken and infinitely tired of all this turmoil. My hands pressed against my chest, as if somehow I could keep my heart from breaking.
By the gods, what an idiot I was. I felt like the stupidest creature in the universe.
How could I have let myself hope when it came to him?
How could I have opened up, talked, even laughed by his side these past few days?
As if I didn't know what he did beyond the walls, as if reality wouldn't eventually catch up with me.
I was a desperately needy, hopeful fool, but the truth had been there all along, and no matter how much I wanted some relationship to fill the emptiness of that house, I shouldn't have let myself forget.
Hope, it turns out, is a cruel little beast, and whoever surrenders to it ends up losing everything—including their own heart.
After what felt like an eternity of tears, I stood up, trying to steady my mind.
In the process, I shoved the bond into a tiny corner of my soul—a tightly locked box.
I was disgusted by it and would do anything to forget it existed.
Still dizzy and nauseous, I walked toward the exit, and as I made my way home, I promised myself I wouldn't make the same mistake.
I wouldn't give him space in my life. I wouldn't subject my heart to fresh humiliation.
I would live my life as best I could, far away from him.
It was a promise.