Blood Bonds: Chapter 3

KIERAN HAS TECH HANDCUFFS ON, the type that will send volts of electricity tearing through your body if you step out of line to kill you, so I’m not surprised that Davies has just left him behind with me. I’m also aware that there’s a camera on us. While I’m confident that it won’t have a mic, I still don’t want to be sitting here chatting about what’s really going on.

When he looks up at me with a glare, I shush him and then I cast out my gift to feel who is around us, whether anyone will overhear his pissed off tirade that I’m sure is just bursting to get out.

Davies is over in the main tents with a handful of his strongest and most trusted men. None of them can hear shit from this far away though, so I’m safe there. There’s a lot of new people here, but I can’t sense any Neuros or Telekinetic-type gifts, so I decide it’s worth the risk and call my gift back into myself, meeting Kieran’s eye and giving him the go-ahead to speak.

I shouldn’t have bothered.

“I’m not having sex with you.”

I snort at him and snap back, remembering in the last second to keep my voice down and my head ducked despite my outrage, “That’s never been the plan, Black! Get your head out of the gutter.”

He huffs at me like I’m being the unreasonable one, and then winces as he jolts his leg, shifting slightly to attempt to relieve some of the pain he’s obviously in. I hope it’s not broken. I’m not sure how long it’s going to take me to get the hell out of here, and Franklin is still here for some unknown reason, so the thought of having to drag Kieran out on my back is just too much.

“So what is your grand plan then? You heard Silas Davies, he’s going to expect us to ‘Bond’.”

I roll my eyes at him, extra petulant because I’m stuck in the chair with a numb ass, but also to hide the thrill of terror that jolts through my veins at him saying the name. “I know exactly what the next few days are going to look like, so calm down. We just need to be patient, and then I’ll get us out.”

He blinks at me for a second and then curses under his breath, shaking his head. “Contact Shore. Tell him where we are and get an evac, because there’s no way you’re going to get us out of here.”

My bond floods me at the sound of his name, and I have no control of my body as it takes over and my eyes shift to black, leaning down to hiss at Kieran, “I have endured too much for you to speak his name here. Don’t ever speak of any of them.”

He pauses for a second and then he gulps.

He honest-to-God gulps like I’m terrifying, which my bond loves, but it releases its grip on me, and I slump back in the seat with a gasp.

“You’re a crazy fucking kid, you know that?”

I shrug and let out a quiet, slightly shaky, laugh. “I thought you were looking forward to watching me ruin everyone’s lives? Come on now, don’t give up on me over something so small. My bond barely spoke to you!”

He shakes his head and me and looks away. “And I’ll do my best to never speak to it again, thank you very much.”

I scoff at him, giggling a little, which is stupid, but there’s also this weird sense of relief in me that we’re trapped here together… that I have someone with me this time, and I’m not going to be completely alone. Plus, if it had to be anyone, I’m sort of glad it’s him.

I’d be beside myself if it were Sage again. I’d be too worried about her getting hurt or assaulted to concentrate on my plans, and if it were truly one of my Bonds? Jesus, the bloodshed my own bond would have over them being in danger is just too much to even think about. A Technokinetic is no help, and Sawyer’s smart mouth would get him in way too much trouble.

Felix would’ve also been helpful but, again, I’d be too worried about my bestie’s Bonded getting himself killed to focus, so Kieran Black is the best goddamn choice here.

If only Kyrie wasn’t also in the freaking camps with us.

There is a moment of silence between us while I try to figure out how the hell to get Kyrie in this tent with us before Kieran speaks again, his voice barely more than breath. “You’re protecting them.”

It feels so obvious to me, but I guess he assumed the same as the rest of them, that I’d hated my Bonds and run from them all rather than have them.

I duck my head again so whoever is watching that camera can’t read my lips. “Always. Everything I’ve done has been to protect them. Every action, every word I’ve bitten back, every minute I spent running from them. If you’re not terrified of that man, then you don’t have good enough intel… or you haven’t been paying attention to it. He’s evil incarnate.”

He doesn’t answer for a second, his breathing even and slow, and then he murmurs back, “He tortured you. The IW… I read what they did to you. They tortured you. You didn’t give them your Bonds’ names. You didn’t break.”

I swallow and desperately want to change the subject. “I did break. I let my bond take the pain for me. I let it become the monster instead of me.”

I refuse to speak about anything else with Kieran after that, too much honesty freaking me all the way out until I’m a jittery mess. I spend the time talking quietly with my bond to see if we can actually do something about how much pain Kieran is in but I’m not a Healer, no matter how well I can repair the men who belong to me, and my bond has nothing to give.

I wonder if I can convince someone else here to heal him for me?

There’s a rustling and more noises outside, and then the tent flaps open again as the older woman from before bustles in again, this time with two plates filled to the brim with more of the same food. I’m not surprised to be getting a second helping. It’s well known that I need the extra calories post-gift usage, but I’m guessing he’s been given the slop they serve the so-called sheep. The steaming plate of roast chicken with all of the sides, smothered in gravy, is a sight for sore eyes.

Or growling belly.

She walks over to us both but ignores Kieran, instead meeting my eyes with an authoritative look and says, “I’ve been told to loosen your restraints so you can eat. If you attempt to move in any way, I will zap your ass into next year.”

Ah.

So she hasn’t been told that her gift won’t work on me thanks to my bond being the second biggest monster in this camp? Poor woman. I play along nonetheless, mostly because I know it irritates that man when I do.

He never understood why I wouldn’t just kill everyone he sent my way, and I’m sure he picks them all carefully. Choosing the most annoying, the sleaziest, or the most arrogant of his underlings that he can get his hands on.

Once my hands are bound in front of my body and I can feed myself, the woman hands me my plate and then finally turns to Kieran, shoving his plate at him as though he’s dirt beneath her shoes, and walks back out.

“What the fuck is this? Are we being poisoned?”

I shake my head at him and shove a forkful into my mouth. “Welcome to VIP life in the camps, Black. As my Bond, you’ll be fed three hot meals a day. You won’t be beaten or attacked in the showers, and if anyone attempts to incapacitate you, they’ll answer straight to the top man himself. All it will cost you is daily torture sessions and being forced to put up with lines of questioning that will have you considering suicide just to get it to end.”

He blinks at me and then when he’s watched me shove half my plate into my mouth, he finally picks up his own fork and gets to work on the chicken.

“It’s flavorless,” he gripes, and I scoff at him.

“It’s the Resistance, were you really expecting something different? Who knew you were so spoiled?”

He shakes his head at me and keeps eating, with far more decorum than I have, goddamn him. There’s a lot of noise in the camp around us, they’re preparing for something big, some mission they’re about to set out on to tear Gifted families and Bonded groups apart.

I loathe the lot of them.

We eat in silence for a few minutes longer, right until Kieran is using the last of his bread roll to sop up the gravy, and then I finally ask the question I’ve been working my way up to, afraid of the answer. “Have you seen Kyrie?”

He sets his empty plate down beside himself and stretches out his bad leg, wincing again. I curse under my breath, but he shrugs it off. I’m sure it’s incredibly painful… I wonder if there’s Tac training for learning how to ignore that level of pain or if he’s just built like that?

I learned after many, many torture sessions.

Kieran grunts and then murmurs softly, “She’s in the cages with the other women. They haven’t sorted them or tested any of them yet. Davies has been too focused on having you back. He was positively gleeful about it.”

I nod and look around the tent again as though a key or weapon is going to jump out at me to get me the hell out of these frustrating restraints. The forks are both plastic, and the tech in the restraints would just melt them if we tried.

Maybe Sawyer would be useful to me right about now.

I try to ignore Kieran’s eyes on me, but they bore into my skin until finally he says, his voice low, “You’re too calm. If this is the place you were tortured as a kid, for two years, you should be more… worried. What’s your plan? Why are you so calm?”

I shove the last of my potatoes into my mouth so that I don’t have to answer him for a minute, chewing slowly. How do I answer him without giving away too much? Is there such a thing anymore?

There’s not really any secrets left… except one, and there’s no amount of torture that could pry that out of me.

“I’m not calm… I’m sure. There’s enough happening here that’s the same as last time, so I know how this is going to go. I know what has to happen to get us out. We just have to be patient and, probably, take a little pain. I’m sorry about that part, but there’s no avoiding it. Does your bond help out with that stuff? I’m not really sure how other people’s bonds work.”

He turns to keep his eyes trained on the opening of the tent like he’s keeping watch, but I know all too well that we’ll hear the woman coming. There’s no mistaking it.

“My bond doesn’t protect me like that. Mine is more… placid compared to yours. I’m the one in control, not it.”

I hand him my plate so that he can set it down, because my restraints won’t let me do it myself. “I’d love to think I’m in control, but I’m pretty sure my bond is just humoring me. I think it lets me run the show, but the second I’m in danger, it takes over. It’s handy until some little jealous bitch starts throwing perfume around.”

I shouldn’t bring it up, not here, but there aren’t enough details to tell the Resistance anything.

Obviously Gryphon didn’t give his second all of the details, but he knows enough to smirk at me and shrug. “Could be worse, Fallows. Could’ve been your arch-nemesis. Or his brother.”

I snort at him and mutter, “I’m not actually sure which one you’re referring to, but yeah, I guess you’re right. It could’ve been much worse.”

The smirk slowly melts from his mouth and he glances at the camera one last time before he turns his body into mine a little more, covering his mouth from sight as he murmurs, “You need to warn them… about who we saw here. You need to tell them sooner rather than later that there’s a potential sleeper cell.”

Atlas.

He’s talking about Atlas, because we’d seen his father here. The likeness between them both was striking, absolutely no doubt of their relation, but then Davies had turned to him and called him ‘Bassinger’ and sealed the freaking deal.

I still don’t know what to think of it.

I don’t know why I didn’t tell Gryphon while I was speaking to him.

I hope to God that I haven’t fucked up royally by not saying something, but I just… I couldn’t. I can’t believe that he’d betray me like that.

My spiraling thoughts are interrupted by the woman coming back to collect our plates. She grumbles under her breath about the waste of good resources on us sheep, and I roll my eyes at her. They’re all the same here. The more I can cultivate a spoiled brat persona with them, the more that they’ll underestimate me.

It’s how I got out last time.

I wait until her back is to us both, scraping off the plates into a scraps bin, before I cast out my gift to find Kyrie. I need to find my way over to her sooner rather than later, and when I find her in the showers tent, I try not to shiver in disgust.

It’s the worst place in the entire damned camp.

I pitch my tone to be whiny and demanding. “I need a shower.”

Kieran scowls and glances up at me, but the woman doesn’t react to him. I’m sure he just looks like an overprotective Bond, so it’s probably a good thing he’s acting up.

“The others are in there now, you’ll have to wait.”

My eyes shift to black and I watch the color drain from her face as I smirk at her, letting my bond take over to snark back at her, “I’m not going to wait.”

Her mouth opens and shuts soundlessly for a second before my eyes flash back to their usual violet hue and she recovers enough to croak, “I need to get more men here. I can’t take you both over there by myself.”

I shrug and make a dismissive noise. “I don’t need my Bond to hold my hand in there, leave him here. I smell, and I need to get some of this filth off before I puke at my own stench.”

I’m hamming it up because I barely smell, only a little bit of the clean sweat scent of sitting around in a hot tent for days while I slept off my gift usage.

The woman glances down at Kieran, unsure at what the hell our dynamic is because we’re obviously not acting like the Bonds she knows. Of course, she’s probably totally submissive to her own Bond, the good little Bonded woman following orders, and for a fleeting second, I think about being sorry for her.

“You’re going to just let her leave like that?”

Kieran grits his teeth at us both and then snarks back at the woman, “I’m not worried about my Bond’s safety. You should ask yourself why that is.”

She doesn’t question either of us again.

The showers are in another smaller, darker tent on the other side of the camp. I’m sure they’re not lit up with appropriate lighting like the rest of the camp for nefarious and disgusting reasons, but I already know that the women are alone in there.

For now.

“Clear out of the far stall! There’s a VIP here.” Sarcasm drips from her words, and I roll my eyes.

The women all look over at us both and shuffle away from the stall, and I turn to get my restraints loosened. I still can’t do all that much with my hands, but in theory, I’ll be able to undress my lower half and wash off. My shirt won’t come off, but I’m not going to go over the semantics with this woman right now.

All I care about is that, by some insane stroke of luck, Kyrie is in the next stall over.

I walk into the tiny space and snap the curtain closed as though I’m actually going to shower. The Resistance woman stands so close to the stall that I can see her feet poking through underneath the curtain. I want to punch her through the fabric, just to catch her unaware and serve the bitch a little justice, but I’m sure she’ll get what’s coming to her soon.

Patience, Oli.

I have to repeat that word over and over again until this is all over with.

I don’t bother undressing or tuning the water on. I’m not even going to bother with that sort of farce here. Instead, I walk over to the far end of the stall and crouch down to wave my hand under the small wall until Kyrie notices it and crouches down as well. I stick enough of my arm under there so that she can see the clothes I’m in and can hopefully tell it’s me. The gap is big enough that I can see that she’s still in her underwear, just rinsing off the same way I did for two freaking years. It’s smart.

You don’t want to get caught completely unaware in here… by anyone. The women are just as bad as the men, jumping each other in the showers in power plays. It’s stupid, and they shouldn’t bother fighting amongst themselves like that, but they do. Something about desperation and fearing this place brings out the worst in them all. I can’t really talk. If I were in their places, I’d be the same.

Once again, my bond saved me from that. Now I’m going to use the knowledge and the resources I have to keep Kyrie safe from it all too.

I pull Brutus down from my shoulder; his form is more smoke than solid. He doesn’t attempt to play or nuzzle me, completely subdued from the boisterous puppy that he usually is.

I wonder if Nox is watching me through his eyes right now?

He mustn’t have seen anything that would lead them to me, because there’s no doubt in my mind that Nox would be first in line to drag me back, if for no other reason than to have his favorite verbal target back.

It occurs to me that I’m just squatting here in the showers, silently staring at a nightmare creature while Kyrie is probably assuming I’m having a breakdown of some kind.

Hell, I might be.

I bring him up to my lips and whisper softly, “Keep her safe. No one touches her, jumps her, without your protection. Leave no evidence behind.”

When I drop my hand back down to usher him over to Kyrie, I see her startle and hesitate, her hand slow to come out and accept the little bundle of smoke, but Brutus moves to her without question. I have to believe that if Nox is watching, he’d be happy to know that I’m trying to keep Gryphon’s sister alive and safe while we’re stuck here.

I wait for a moment, and then I let our fingers grasp together for a second, squeezing them in the only reassurance I can give her right now, before I pull away and stand back up, rubbing my hands over my legs to brush away the soap suds and dirt from the muddy ground of the shower.

When I snap the curtain back, the woman is waiting there for me, her ear pressed close to the fabric like she was trying to figure out what I was doing in there without the shower on.

Good luck with that, bitch.

“I’m ready to go,” I drawl, and she scowls at me.

“You didn’t even wash anything. What’s the point in me getting you over here?”

I shrug at her and enjoy the huff of frustration I get back, not even caring when she’s rough about tightening my restraints and jerking me around to get me moving again.

Kieran is safe because of my lie.

Kyrie is safe with Brutus.

I’m as safe as I’ve ever been thanks to the bond growing angrier and more savage by the hour in my chest.

We’ll survive until I can get us out.