43 #2
We didn’t have time, Cooper, Scotty cuts him off tensely.
This entire situation is a complete shitshow, but we made the right choice.
No one but Ezla has access to that penthouse, so no one but us would have the chance to see the video we did, and the most important thing in that moment was getting our Bonded the help she needed in the infirmary.
His jaw grinds, but he can’t argue with that.
Ten minutes later, and we’re in the Techtis Council building, stepping out of a silver lift that I hope to never see again after today. We’ve been in that ugly fucking box far too many times recently.
Havoc strides ahead of me and my brothers, and I march along behind her as she heads in the direction of the dining room. I can already hear the rat’s sniffling, and my teeth grind together the moment we round the corner.
The hideous fucker is snotty-nosed, his red eyes swollen.
No one can hear his screams in here with the thick glass and taalk all around—his penthouse is almost as insufferable as Joseph’s, with a similar vibe but one floor rather than two and more of this building’s typical thick, squeaky-clean glass around rather than everything being a glossy black—so he’s not gagged, and his mouth unsurprisingly starts flapping the moment he lifts his chin to see us.
“E-Ezla, p-please,” Peter cries out, straining against the ropes we’d found in a storage room in here last night that currently bind him to a high-end dining chair. “I-I’ve never done anything to you! I w-was g-good!”
I let out a dangerous noise, imagining the beautiful sound his spine will make when I snap it clean in half to try to contain myself as I know my Havoc wants.
Dismissing his words completely, she says, voice absent of any emotion, “We have much to discuss, Peter, and I am a busy woman, so do listen closely.” Walking over to him slowly, she trails a finger along the glinting see-through table in the centre of the room, which his chair is at the end of.
Trembling like the pathetic wimp he is, Peter’s eyes widen in fear. “Of—of course,” he all but whimpers. “Just don’t—don’t kill me. Promise me you won’t kill me.”
“As long as you listen and do what I say without argument, I will have no desire to,” Ezla drawls.
He nods his thick head quickly. “Yes. Yes, o-of course.”
“Wonderful.” Pulling an armoury stick from her back, she stops before him before abruptly kicking his chair out with a loud scraping shriek that almost perfectly mirrors the ear-assaulting noise that flees the slimy rodent’s mouth.
A thrill shoots down my spine, cock swelling to titanium at the sight of my baby at work.
“Now, this is just for motivation, of course. Do not fret,” my girl tells him calmly as she manifests her inky-crimson Avri dagger.
His spineless whimpering increases as he gives another billion jerky head nods.
Without further ado, Ezla begins, leaning her hip against the dining table in a seemingly casual but deliciously threatening way, “I will start by saying that we will need you to speak before the globe as always. That is all you must do. Do your job well, and I will let you live.”
The dickhead clearly has no brain cells as a light enters his beady little eyes.
“You will first be announcing the cancellation of Game 6—”
“What?!” From the sounds of it as the Showmaster jerks in his bindings, this is the worst news to ever reach his fragile ears. “Final Battles is essential. We cannot just change The Bonding Games. You can’t—you can’t just—”
His mouth snaps shut as Havoc twirls the tip of her Avri dagger against the gloved pad of her index finger.
It’s such a subtle movement, so effortlessly intimidating and vicious, and I grunt, shamelessly adjusting the now-pulsing bulge beneath my Avri suit.
“Do keep your mouth shut, Peter. It would be a shame for me to have to cut out your tongue when we need it so soon, but I am sure we can regrow it in the infirmary as many times as needed.”
Lips finally tightly sealed closed, a muffled strangled sound escapes him.
Havoc tells him next, “You will announce that Final Battles will no longer be going forth, that The Bonding Games as the world knows it will not be continuing. The eleventh Bonding Games marks the end of an era. The end of the Game Master. The end of everything Joseph worked for.” Her head tilts a miniscule amount.
“It is quite poetic, is it not? Everything he wanted . . . gone, just like that. Because of me—his creation. How funny that the only thing he succeeded in producing was his downfall personified.”
Eyes appearing closer to popping out of his face with each new word, I think Peter almost passes out as he struggles to keep his mouth shut.
Cracking my neck, I grin slowly and widely at the fucker when he darts a glance my way as I move closer to my Havoc, and he manages to swallow down any words that were begging to come out and leave his tongue severed in a bloody mess.
“You will announce that I am the new ruler of Techta, that I will be remaking everything,” Ezla continues, and those thin lips look incredibly close to peeping open.
“There will be new rules and regulations. I will redesign many buildings, and there will be much more colour. Unfortunately, there will have to be less chaos and more safety for my Bonds, too, and so you will announce all of this as well, which I will get into further detail with when we plan your speech—”
“You cannot simply take over!” Peter explodes, losing the battle like I fucking knew he would.
Snarling, I march right up to him. Ezla doesn’t stop me, only smirks as I come to stand behind him and yank his head back by his limp hair. “Wanna try that again, dickface?” I seethe as I lower my head to his ear.
Cooper, Tiger, Alby, and Scotty have all moved closer too, and the first-mentioned brother warns lowly, “Watch how you speak to our Bonded. We don’t tolerate any disrespect towards her.”
Effortlessly spinning her dagger in an understated but threatening action, Ezla replies with a subtle mocking lilt in her otherwise-blank tone to the disrespectful, soon-to-be-dead man, “But of course I can. Am I not the Game Master’s daughter?
” The last words are nearly spat out before the evenness returns as she says, “Who else would take over?” Her head tips to the side more obviously this time.
“You—you are not fit to rule, Ezla. Your Exot traits—”
My hand wraps around his sticky throat. The pig’s sweating like mad, and I’m extremely fuckin’ glad I’m wearing my gloves. “Did you not get the message the first time?” I growl out, tightening my grip. “Shut. Your. Fat. Mouth.”
The only sound he can make in response is a wheeze.
Both anger and amusement swirl through Havoc.
“Do not pretend Joseph was an angel of a ruler. Techta will be much better taken care of under my rule. Admittedly, I do not particularly care about the region’s citizens, but neither did he, so there really is no difference there.
But what will be different is their safety, and I am nowhere near as daft as my sperm donor could be at times.
My choices will all be based around keeping my Bonds in one piece, and that will in turn keep .
. . most others intact. That is more than can be said for him, and so my rule will have far less silent opposition. ”
“There was no opposition—”
Ezla’s eyes roll heavenwards. “Be quiet. Your idiocy is giving me a headache.”
“Want me to cut into his head to see if I can find any brain cells in there, Havoc?” I rumble with a lick of my lips.
Her pupils seem to sparkle, delight at the idea dancing through her. “That would be so fun, would it not?”
“No!” Peter’s cry scratches at my eardrums once more. “Please! Please don’t! I’m sorry! I just want what’s best for this region! I’ve always wanted what’s best for the people! You know I love the people—”
My hand slams over his mouth.
“Thank you, my beast.” Facial expression distant once more, Ezla corrects, “You love the attention, the theatrics, and just like Joseph, only yourself.” Straightening up from the table, she slots her armoury stick back onto her shoulder blade, and I feel Peter relax a fraction.
As if she isn’t just as deadly without the baton.
As if she isn’t a weapon herself. “However, I do not care about that, in any case. You do not matter to me. Nobody does. Nobody but my men. I will take over with them, and you will aid me. Anyone on The Council who tries to reject me will die, and the remaining Exot, Evots, and Neutrals will prove their loyalty by not being bothered by the slaughtering of such vile creatures. I would only be being their . . . saviour.” Ezla’s nose wrinkles.
I feel Cooper’s amusement at that, and he sends down the bond, Don’t like the sound of that, do you, Vengeance?
It is vile, she replies shortly. But for you, I will do what must be done.
Warmth floods the bond from all directions.
Thank you, Love, Scotty says with his tooth-achingly sweet affection dripping all over the place.
Thanks, Ezzy! You’re the best! I’d smooch you so good if we weren’t in mission-mode right now!
You will thank me properly when we next have a spare moment together in our Bonded chambers, Ezla purrs wickedly, and I shiver, teeth sinking into my lower lip as my eyes have a feast on our perfect girl.
Then she snaps out loud, “Moving on. You will also need to announce the Game Master’s death, of course, and you will relay everything I am about to tell you word for word. Is that understood?”
The Showmaster’s gulp is audible, and he doesn’t immediately speak when I remove my hand from his mouth.
Stepping closer, Havoc’s expression darkens along with the rest of her demeanour. “Must I repeat myself? This is not optional. Maybe I shall simply expand my story to encompass you in some way. I already have a handful of respectful scientists to back any claims I make.”