THE OBSESSION that Davies has with his set of knives is disturbing. I have to remind myself that he’s absolutely getting off on prolonging his fondling of them in the tool desk. The sounds they make as he runs his fingers along the handles are like the world’s most twisted and macabre bells, warning me of all of the pain he’s about to put me through.
“There’s something I need to discuss with you before we start, something that you gave to one of the women in the shower block yesterday. The cameras can see you both interact but not what you handed her. Tell me what it is, and I’ll refrain from killing the girl.”
I think of nothing.
Blackness.
Inky nothingness in a desolate and barren wasteland of oblivion.
Nothing makes Davies angrier than my faultless ability to empty my brain out. He had no idea that one of my fathers, Vincenzo, had been a Neuro. He was the stay-at-home father with whom I’d spent the most time with, and even as a small child, he’d played this simple game with me—how many different ways can we empty our minds to utter blankness? Even as a very little girl, I’d be quizzed and tested until I could become a calm, blank canvas.
I wonder often if he’d known that someday I’d be facing this man, if my mother’s dreams of oleander flower-filled cribs also showed a madman obsessed with breaking inside my mind to destroy my life, and that’s why Vincenzo had been the one chosen to primarily raise me.
It makes more sense than I want to admit.
Davies picks a knife, the long carving knife that’s sharper than a surgeon’s blade, and steps towards me. “These games grow so tiresome, little Render. Must we always play them? The woman is strong enough that we were planning on keeping her, but that’s not all. Her brother is a leading Tac operative, a pain in my ass.”
Her brother is nothing.
Her brother is absolutely nothing.
Nothing.
I am a blank slate of zero thoughts about him.
“Did you meet him in your time away? Is he the reason you gave her something? She’s not going to escape, you know. If you’re hoping Shore will come after you, I can assure you that he might be strong and have tricks up his sleeve, but he’s no match for me.”
I need a subject change, and fast. “I didn’t give her anything. She gave me a job, and I went to check she was okay. I came here in an apron and work sneakers, it’s pretty obvious I’m not lying.”
He grins at me and waves the knife. “Then why is it that a simple, Neuro-gifted woman could make three fully grown men disappear into thin air? Two of them were Shifters and at least twice her size, and when they approached her in the shower block for a little fun… gone.”
It’s easier to be blank about this. I’d already guessed what had happened in the shower stalls, and I’m incredibly glad that I’d been able to get to Kyrie before it happened.
I shrug and roll my head on my shoulders to look back up at the fabric panels of the ceiling. “I’m a little confused about why you’re bringing this up with me. All of that chaos is outside of my skill set, and you know it.”
He grins at me, his eyes wandering around the room before he snaps, leaning over me on the table and snarling in my face, “And we both know a little Neuro sheep couldn’t devour grown men alive and leave nothing but a little DNA matter behind! So what did you do, Render? You know better than to make me angry.”
I know better than to end up here again, and yet I walked right in here after that woman, so I’ll be damned if I’m going to sell her out to save myself a little pain. “I know nothing. I’m still the same little stupid girl you had here last time, so you really shouldn’t bother with all of this. It’s a waste of time.”
The first press of the knife to my skin doesn’t actually break it, it’s more of a warning that he doesn’t appreciate my tone, and he snaps, “I saw you hand her something in the showers. The camera didn’t pick up on what it was that you gave her, but you will tell me. Whatever you’ve done while you’ve been gone, whatever you’ve become, you’ll never be stronger than I am. If you don’t tell me what it was that you gave her, I will bring her here, and I will do everything to her that I’ve done to you, little Render. You’ll repay that woman’s kindness with pain and a slow death.”
Nothingness.
Hold on to the nothingness because it’s much harder to stay blank when there are other people in this stupid fucking hellhole who I want to protect, but if he brings Kyrie here, then I’ll find a new plan.
There’s always a way through this.
He clicks his tongue at me like he’s disappointed and pulls the knife away from my skin. His favorite form of torture is edging, and I loathe him for it. I’d rather he just freaking stabbed me already.
He steps back over to his tools and puts the carving knife down, fussing with the handles again as he says, “Cold little Render, I should’ve known you wouldn’t care that much about some useless woman. But what about your Bond, hm? I can heal him. Let your bond out to play with me now, answer the questions I have, and I’ll heal your Bond. He’s starting to look a little green over there. Linda and Zarah said the wound over the break is looking infected too. Blood infections can move quickly, you know.”
I can go back to ignoring him, because there’s no way he’ll let Kieran die right now. He’s spent too long trying to find my Bonds. He’d never let one die without experimentation first. It’s the whole reason I lied in the first place.
Davies sighs, making a big show of it, as though I’m an unruly school child he’s being forced to deal with. Then he straightens back up, finally selecting a new knife from his tool desk as he runs a hand down the side of it lovingly.
My heart starts to beat a little faster, panic slowly working its way down my spine, and I have to start focusing on my breathing to stop myself from hyperventilating.
Be blank, Oli. Be nothing.
He leans over me again to murmur right in my face, “I already know you won’t break so easily, Render. I’m just making sure your Bond knows it too. Let’s see how long it takes me to break him though, shall we?”
The moment the knife touches my skin, I start to disassociate. My bond creeps up to the forefront of my brain, ever watching what’s happening and waiting for the right moment to step in for me, but simple cuts are easy enough to block out. When Davies really starts to get creative with his slicing, my leg begins to shake involuntarily and a pool of sweat starts on my lower back. I can almost keep it blocked out, almost, until he starts cutting off my pants and working his way up the sensitive skin of my thighs.
My control slips for a second and my body is instantly flooding with Gryphon, his bond reaching out to me and breaking down the last of my barriers in a single sweep, and his voice is booming in my head.
WHAT IS HAPPENING?!
I watch as Davies’ eyes flash wide and I slam my barriers back up, cursing myself a thousand times over for slipping and letting my Bonded in. One split second and I’ve ruined everything that I’ve spent five years guarding and protecting with my goddamn life.
Fingers as cold as ice and spattered with droplets of my blood trail over my cheek, leaving behind a red trail as Davies leans down to whisper to me, his lips touching the rim of my ear, “And who was that, my precious little Soul Render?”
Two years.
I was a prisoner in one of these camps for two whole years, and not once did I so much as think their names. I knew them, oh my God did I know their names. The moment I’d woken up in that hospital with Nurse June standing over my bed with teary eyes and a file tucked under her arm, I’d memorized their names. I remember thinking how scary it was that North was almost a decade older than I was. The five years between me and Gryphon and Nox seemed like so much as well. I wanted so badly to know Gabe and Atlas because they were only a few months older than me, and I wanted friendship until we were old enough to Bond.
I spent a few short hours in that hospital planning and hoping and wishing that they’d hurry up and take me away from the horror of what had happened to my family.
And then I never thought of them again.
I never let myself.
And with three desperate words sent through our Bonded link, Gryphon has revealed himself to the biggest threat our Bond Group will ever know.
On instinct, I think of nothingness. I let the panic ride me even as I force myself not to think of the details, the exact reasons why I’m panicking so badly. I triple check my barrier to my Bonded, and then I check on my bond because I might have to let it take over to distract Davies from what he’d heard.
My bond is ready and eager to be let out.
I’ll take the pain for as long as I can and then I’ll let my bond take over to finish this session off. If Davies forces me to kill innocent people then… well, I’m a monster, because if it keeps my Bonds and our loved ones safe, then I’ll fucking loathe it but accept it.
I hate myself, but it’s the line I’ve drawn here.
“Fine. Fine, insist on being a stubborn little shit. I have more than enough tools to bleed it out of you. If I need to have you screaming to find out who he is, then I guess we’re going to need a bigger, blunter knife. How do you feel about being hacked to pieces with a butter knife, little Render? It’ll be hard work for me but, oh, the satisfaction.”
Deep breaths.
Deep, long breaths—in through the nose, hold for two counts, out through the mouth.
I can survive it.
I manage to convince myself of it too, right up until he actually starts hacking at my thigh, and then a scream rips out of my mouth, ragged and hoarse. Gryphon is pounding at my barrier, my head thumping with it, and I need to puke.
This is also when the entire scene becomes too much for Kieran and he shouts at Davies, startling me because I’d almost forgotten he was in here with us thanks to all of the pain, “Get your hands off of her, and I’ll tell you where he is.”
The knife buried in my thigh stops moving, but Davies doesn’t take it out entirely. The muscle clenches around it like my body is trying to force it out, but his hand is firm on the handle.
I blink my eyes open finally, but Davies is focused on Kieran. When I glance over to where he’s chained, he still looks like he’s halfway to his grave, but there’s a determined gleam in his eyes as he says, “Her other Bond, the one in her head, you’ll want him. He’s stronger than I am. If she Bonds with him, she’ll get the kick of power you want from her. He’s a Neuro, like you… he’s a lot like you, actually. From the moment they met, he’s been in her head. If anyone will be able to help you control her bond, it’s him. Just stop fucking cutting her up, and I’ll tell you where he is.”
I want to scream at him to shut the fuck up, but I can’t speak around the lump in the back of my throat caused by all of the pain and the moment I think that I see the triumph in Davies eyes. He knows that Kieran is about to give him another piece of the puzzle, another toy to play with to make me the weapon he so desperately wants. After years of getting nothing from me, there’s no way he’s going to even question Kieran about it.
He’ll just take it and find my Bond, drag him back here to live through all of this right alongside me.
Davies decides to prove a point and presses the knife down harder, slicing through the muscle there, and my bond finally kicks in, taking over for me to spare my mind from the agony, and then I finally feel nothing. My bond soaks it all up for me like the greatest sponge in the world.
My eyes don’t shift though. My bond knows better than doing that here.
Kieran has no idea that the pain just ended for me though and snaps, “Massachusetts. He’s in Massachusetts. Give me a pen. I’ll write down where, just stop cutting her.”
There’s a horrific spurt of blood that comes out of my leg when Davies finally pulls the knife out. Kieran’s brow furrows at the sight of it, but Davies grabs a cloth and one of his tourniquets to staunch the bleeding. He’s an expert at directing blood flow, but usually he uses it to keep me conscious for as long as possible during this process.
He wipes his hands off on a cloth and then he steps over to where Kieran is restrained on the other side of the tent, staring him down as though he’ll be able to tell if he’s being lied to.
He doesn’t have that ability though.
Kieran plays his part well, staring back at him with no signs of deception as he lists off an address and even coordinates of a place that I’ve never heard of.
Davies smirks slowly, deciding he’s been victorious, and steps back to his work desk. “If you’re lying to me about this Bond and where he is, I’ll come back here and I’ll really torture her. This? This is just a warm up, but if you send me away for no good reason and I don’t come back with this Neuro? I’ll amputate her leg. No pain relief either, she doesn’t need both legs to be my weapon. It was my next course of action when I last had her to get her to talk. I’m excited to give it a try.”
I want to pass out at the very sound of that, but then he’s back at the table and pushing a needle into my neck, injecting me with something that kicks in immediately, my brain fuzzing out.
“Extra insurance to keep you here, little Render. I’ll be back with your next Bond soon. Be a good girl and wait here for me.”
Then he walks out, and I lose track of what the actual fuck is going on here. I don’t know up from down, the table feels as though it’s spinning into space, and my skin begins to crawl as though a thousand fire ants have just been injected into my veins.
I lose my shit entirely.
There’s a cracking sound and a muffled scream, like someone biting down on fabric to stop themselves from making noise but failing kind of miserably, and then there’s some retching. My stomach doesn’t like that sound one bit, protesting immediately, and I turn my head to vomit. My restraints are too tight to move much and I’m sure there’s vomit running down my chin, but I can’t feel anything, nothing but the sensations that the drug fills me with.
I think I’m crying.
Not that I want to, not that the tiny slivers of my sane brain are feeling that sort of emotion, but my breath is sawing out of my chest and I start to taste salt.
There’s grunting and the sound of a heavy sack dragging along the dirt, and then somehow Kieran’s face appears in front of mine. I have no idea how the hell he’s here—it’s probably a hallucination—and I think the sobbing gets worse.
He’s trying to speak to me but his words are distorted, because even though I can see his mouth is moving, the words are all coming through wrong.
“Kill… just him… get help… Oli, please… kill… know you can…”
I scowl at him and finally take a gasping breath, but whatever the fuck Davies shot me up with turns my stomach again and bile rushes up my throat.
There’s a moment of darkness, nothingness I want to climb into and stay in forever, and then there’s Kieran’s face again. There’s vomit on his shirt and pants, my vomit, I think, but he’s not angry or disgusted.
He’s desperate.
“Kill him, Oli… kill Franklin…”
I don’t understand what he’s saying.
But my bond does.
And then there’s nothing but death and pain, blood and destruction. I might be utterly fucked from the drugs, but my bond has always been stronger than anyone will ever comprehend, and no one threatens me without facing the dark god living inside me.
