“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.