Tragic Bonds (The Bonds that Tie Book 5)

As the days slowly go on, the tension in our Bonded Group grows.

We know that the peace we’re feeling can only last a short amount of time before we are thrust back into a fight with the Resistance. All of the training and hard work we’ve been putting into place will have to hold up against our enemy, something that can only really be tested when we’re in the line of fire.

I spend my mornings down at the Tac Training Center working through drills and sparring with Sage and Aro. My afternoons are spent either building with Gabe and Atlas or reading through translations of texts with Nox in North’s offices.

Reading about the other times that the gods had been here is both jarring and familiar. The edges of my memories catch on snippets, as though if I could just clear my mind a little more, I could remember those moments myself. It brings into question the things that Jericho had said, because though the gods had been here before, I’m supposed to be nothing more than a vessel. By his count, I’m brand new, so I shouldn’t be able to remember anything. Yet my mind keeps getting stuck on the little details, the little horrifying snippets that I can’t stop obsessing over. The dragon. The god who wields madness. The one who had been burned at the stake for tearing men apart in a void-eyed fury, who had said with his dying words that it was the demon inside of him.

Something about them all is so familiar to me, and yet, how could it possibly be? None of the details that grab at me make any sense, and when I tentatively question Nox about it, he stares at me for a moment before he pulls out a small list of his own.

“I started keeping track of it as well. I’ve been meaning to give it to North to see if he can remember too, but I haven’t made the time yet.”

I stare down at the list and find that it isn’t too different from my own.

Bleeding out on a field of roses, a sword thrust through the heart.

A death of exposure.

A corpse hanging from a tree.

Each of these things are nothing more than words on a page, but something about them… something is familiar. I question my bond, but it has nothing to say to me, creeping back into the dark corners of my mind as it goes back to its hibernation stage. I hope that it’s reserving its energy for our next big fight, but something about this feels so vital, as though the words aren’t just tugging at my memory but irritating some ancient wound within my soul.

I wake up on the morning of the next council meeting, tangled up in a pile of limbs with a sense of dread hanging over me. Gryphon is already up and in the shower, the bathroom door open just a little, a sliver of light breaking through the bedroom.

North is still sleeping happily where he is wrapped around me, and Gabe is on his back next to me, snoring just a little, one of his hands tucked in my own. Atlas is on the far side of the bed since it’s his turn to be on the edge, and he doesn’t look any happier than I am, even in his sleep.

I wriggle out from between my Bonded and make my way quietly over to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes and slipping into the shower with Gryphon where he’s scrubbing the shampoo out of his hair. He doesn’t turn as he hears the door open, but he speaks directly into my mind so as to not wake anyone up. You should be getting some extra sleep, Bonded. The council meeting is not going to be easy for any of us.

I slip my arms around his waist as soon as he’s gotten all the shampoo out of his hair and tip my face up to meet his lips as I answer him. I’ll sleep in when you do.

He sighs and then his hands come down to grip my thighs, lifting me up until I’m wrapped around him. The water works its way down us both as I try not to squeal at the move.

I can’t play around when I know what’s coming for us. I feel like every second that I’m not training or planning is a second wasted, one that might be the difference between us getting out of there alive or not.

This isn’t the sort of foreplay talk I am hoping for, and I cup both of his cheeks in my hands as I kiss him back, hoping to wash away the worries in him.

He’s tense under my fingers, the muscles in his shoulders rock hard even though I know it isn’t a strain on him to hold me up, and I can’t lose myself in the kiss while I’m too busy freaking out about what I could possibly do to fix this for him. Well, maybe not fix it, because short of leaving the Sanctuary right now to hunt Davies and the Resistance myself, there’s not a lot I can do about that situation, but if I could just find a way to soothe this tension in him a little…

Isn’t that what Bonded are supposed to be able to do for each other?

I’m not going to let them get you again. I’m not going to lose you to Silas Davies again, Bonded.

I shiver at the dark promise in his words, but when I glance up at his face, his eyes flash at me. I blink rapidly, my mind attempting to rationalize what I thought I saw, but there’s no way. No chance that I could have seen it.

He couldn’t have had void eyes.

It’s hard to sit still in a room full of council members and the leaders in our community, including Vivian and Unser, when I had spent the morning getting the life fucked out of me by Gryphon against a cold, tiled wall.

I’d spent the entire time watching his eyes, but there were no signs of change in them, and I started to tell myself that I’m clearly going freaking crazy. The history books I’ve been reading with Nox have obviously wormed their way into my brain, and I’m seeing things that aren’t really there.

Three gods and a pissy dragon is more than we can handle.

I feel hyperaware of my Bonds sitting around me at the table. I don’t want to be forced to sit here and listen to people trying to question them and belittle them even while they’re killing themselves to keep everybody safe and alive.

You need to stop fidgeting before I drag you out of here and give you something to fidget about, North sends through to me directly, but because he is evil, he does it where everyone else can hear it.

Gryphon is quick to supply, The problem is that somebody already has given her that, and instead of scratching the itch, it’s only made it worse.

Someone, huh? Atlas sends through, and I try to keep my face completely blank as Vivian takes his seat across from us.

He’s as close as I’m ever gonna get to a father figure who is still alive, and I feel mortified at the conversation happening in my head right now. The fact that it’s happening so close to him is just freaking bad.

You can’t have done a good enough job if she’s still squirming that much, Atlas snarks with a smirk on his perfect face for the whole damn room to see.

I hate them all.

Instead of playing along with any of them, I put the walls back up in my mind and send Nox a pleading look from where he is glowering at the entire meeting room from over by the coffee machine. He’s just as good a mind reader as his brother is and brings me a mug the size of my head, threatening Gabe with nothing more than a look to get him to move down so that I’m flanked by the Draven brothers.

Half of the council stares at my entire Bonded Group like we’re their worst nightmares come to life, and that is enough to get the smile back on my face.

It lasts about a minute before the General walks back in and takes up his own seat at the far end of the table. I swear that man was supposed to have left the town by now, gone back out on mission somewhere, but he just seemed to be lingering like a bad smell. A teensy, tiny part of me feels guilty about thinking that about my own Bonded’s father. That lasts only about as long as it takes for me to get a good look at how the General is glaring at our entire Bonded Group.

His son included.

It makes me murderous, but I really should settle down with those sorts of thoughts, because my bond doesn’t need any assistance in planning out the deaths of anyone around me today.

It’s already chomping at the bit.

“Thank you everyone for joining us today. There have been significant changes in our stance with the Resistance, and we are hoping to be able to keep you all in the loop on how things are about to proceed.”

There’s a quiet murmuring around the table at North’s words, and though most of it is positive, there are some disgruntled noises that I try to ignore.

“As you all know, we have just opened the doors of the Sanctuary to sixty-five more families and, though we have some people sleeping in the Community Center in town, we’re close to having enough houses for everyone. I have spoken with Jeremy Ardern, who is joining us today, and we are confident that we will be able to fit the growing needs of the community in the coming weeks, as well as continue to expand for the next wave of Gifted who have been vetted.”

The General makes a grunting noise, and North’s eyes snap over to him.

“This vetting process seems to be taking too long, considering the amount of people who have reached out to come here. What are you doing about that?”

I feel Gryphon flinch from where he’s sitting, two seats down. I don’t need to see it to know that it’s there. He’s already feeling the weight of the entire community on top of him being the only person with a built-in lie detector and the only person that North trusts with such a decision. He’s already being pulled in five different directions, and the reason that the vetting has slowed down is because we decided as a group that we would all be going out together from now on and no longer splitting up.

I want to kill the General for making such a comment.

North is quick to redirect him away from his own son. “This community is not funded by the council or any other pooled resource point, ergo, no one outside of the Draven Family Trust has a say on how we vet people or the time in which it takes for that process to happen. You are all here at my discretion, every last one of you is here because my Bonded Group allows it. While we are happy to listen to any concerns that you may have, it’s up to us whether or not we choose to act on such things. The alternative is, of course, returning to your homes.”

There’s a tension in the silence that wasn’t there before, every man and woman at the table stewing in the notice North just put them on.

Jeremy casts a look down the table at the General before he addresses the group. “The Resistance are taking hundreds of Gifted a day. I don’t know whether they chose to amp things up because they’re ready to or whether they’re becoming desperate, but that’s the reality of what life outside of this place is like. I suggest you all think about that before you start throwing around accusations baselessly.”

Hundreds a day.

I feel sick to my stomach, and there’s a small trickle of guilt in me that we’re not doing more for everyone. I have to remind myself that we’re planning to go back to the Wastelands again to wipe out more of our enemy in the coming days.

“The best way to keep people safe is to get rid of the enemy entirely, and we’ve moved from the defensive position that we have been in for years, decades, at this point, to now taking the fight to the Resistance. We will be heading back to the Alaskan Wasteland in the coming days.”

Alaskan Wasteland. I can’t wait to be tits-deep in snow while fighting for my life; the Resistance sure knows how to pick a great place for a fight. I wonder whether they have snow leopard shifters or something running that division, because I can’t think of many Gifted who would be able to use the snow as an advantage. I also wonder if Sage can set people on fire if they’re surrounded by snow. An important question for my bestie, but it would be incredibly rude to pull my phone out right now while North is talking, so it’ll have to wait.

“Is the Alaskan Wasteland the best use of our resources? Could we not go after the smaller Wastelands and shut them down before moving to the larger one?” one of the council members asks.

I have no idea who she is, but she doesn’t seem to be asking in an antagonistic way. Her face is open and clear, and the men who sit on either side of her watch North carefully, clearly interested in his answer.

Surprisingly, Gryphon is the one who speaks up. “The Alaskan Wasteland is going to be very difficult to win and shut down because of where it is and the size of it. The strongest of their Shields, the one not being utilized at the camps, is currently manning it. If we leave it till last, there’s the potential that we will never get it shut down. Newer and less experienced recruits could potentially deal with the smaller camps, and we’re hoping to be able to utilize those resources there.”

‘We’re throwing everything we have at the Alaskan shithole’ would be the translation of his words, but I try to look confident from where I’m sitting. This entire meeting is becoming a test of my patience and how far I can be pushed before I lose my shit.

I’m proud of how far I’m making it.

“Couldn’t your Bonded walk in and empty them for us?” one of the men says, though his voice is very careful.

He’s obviously trying to convey a respectful sort of questioning, but Nox leans forward in his chair anyway.

“Maybe we should just send your Bonded in. It’d be the most that she’s done since getting the seat from her useless mother,” he mutters under his breath, though loud enough that the entire table hears it, and I have to bite my lip at the scandalized looks on their faces.

I’m not sure what they were expecting from Nox, but clearly they haven’t interacted with him enough to know that you don’t poke him without catching the brunt of his acidic tongue.

“What about the camps? Why are we focusing on the Wastelands when there are still camps full of prisoners that we could be focusing our efforts on?” Councilman Hannity says, his fingers fidgeting nervously in front of him as he deflects away from Nox’s quiet outburst.

I’m not sure if he is moving the attention away from Nox as a favor to North or whether he is just naturally opposed to conflict, but he looks nervous as he practically squirms in his seat. His eyes keep darting across to North—it’s as though he is an excitable puppy looking for approval.

I have to bite my lip from smiling at that image in my head as well, just as clear as the last.

“The largest camp was dismantled by Shore and his TacTeam on their way in,” North says, and it takes me a second to realize that he means the General and not Gryphon.

Hannity looks shocked. “I had no idea that that had taken place, but I’m glad to hear it. How many survivors were brought in?”

A muscle on North’s cheek flicks as he grinds his teeth. “Eleven.”

“Eleven people?” The words shoot out of my mouth before I have the chance to bite them back, and the General shoots me a filthy look.

The one that North gives me is a lot softer, something that almost feels too private to be happening in this room, but he can feel the way my stomach has given way. “Yes, Bonded. Eleven people.”

My mind is empty for another second of shock, but then the information really soaks in. The rage I am flooded with is so consuming that my bond wakes up inside of me and a ripple flows through my Bonded Group and the entire room as it does. The General has not been around my bond, so he has no idea of the danger that he’s in as I peg him with a look of my own.

How dare he come in here with accusations about Gryphon, his own goddamned son.

“You walked into the biggest camp of the Resistance, shut it down, and only brought out eleven prisoners?”

The General doesn’t even bother to look sheepish about it. “Everybody knows that you don’t bring back survivors from the camps. Most of the people in there are already broken shells. The people we got out were hard fought for.” He says it all as though I’m supposed to be congratulating him. Here I was, thinking that I couldn’t find much else to hate the man for. Boy, was I wrong.

“You might not bring home survivors. That’s your story, not mine.”

He glances at North as though he’s expecting my councilman Bonded to step in and disagree with me, and then his eyes flick over to Gryphon as an afterthought.

My bond doesn’t like that either.

“Well, how many do you bring home then, if you’re so amazing, because the average is—”

I cut him off before he can get his stupidity out. “I’m aware of what the average is amongst the groups that don’t have me and my Bonded in it. I’m also aware of what our average is, and it sounds to me like you walked in there, guns blazing, not giving a fuck about the Gifted who were trapped there. How many children were in that camp?”

His eyes narrow at me dangerously, but I’m not afraid of this man. “Not that many.”

“You don’t even know exactly how many children were in the camp that you took out?”

His lip curls, and as I stand, the palms of my hands make a smacking sound as they hit the table. I lean forward aggressively, and the moment the General moves to stand as well, as though he’s trying to stay in a position of power, Gryphon’s eyes flash to white as he keeps his father in his seat. It’s the ultimate act of rebellion, and I fucking love my Bonded for it.

“I know how many children are in every camp we walk into. I know how many Resistance are in every camp we walk into, and you know what? Your son does too. North knows the casualties of every camp that every one of his TacTeams walks into. Nox knows. Gabe knows. Atlas knows. A Bassinger, that you are so intent on loathing, knows the cost of this war more than you do.”

His teeth grind in his mouth, but Gryphon won’t let him stand.

I’m too pent up to stop, too angry at the council and these useless Gifted at the weight they put on my Bonded’s shoulders. How dare they all question and judge every little thing that we’re doing while there are men like this being given all the leeway in the world?

Disgusting.

My arms tremble with rage, but I zero in on him. “And what did you win from this camp that you took out? Sure, you wiped the Resistance there from the map, and sure, that’s what we need, but what else? What intel? What trophy? Which of the higher members of the Resistance did you bring in as a prisoner or take out? What was the win that you got from all of that death and destruction?”

Gryphon doesn’t need to stop him from speaking—the General has no words to give me.