Page 9 of Bonds of Pain
“Sorry, you’re right. I promise, I won’t.” Cillian holds up both hands in a placating gesture, seeming genuinely apologetic. When his gaze returns to Logan, his expression is pure challenge. “But I needed to make a point.”
The look on Logan’s face would be almost comical if the situation weren’t so dire. Rage, disbelief, and humiliation war for dominance in his expression. His hands clench into fists at his sides, and I can smell the bitter clove of his scent turning acrid with anger.
I would feel more fear if I thought there was anything left he could do to me.
“The specific nature of this bond changes nothing,” Logan finally says, his voice dangerously controlled. “As far as the world will know, I have bonded with Maya Tantamount. You, Cillian, have a secondary bond as my pack beta. That’s the story. That’s all that matters.”
Cillian cocks his head. “What about Ares and Poe? You planning to loop the rest of our pack in on this little farce.”
“They’ll know what they need to know when they need to know it.”
“And when she responds to my commands instead of yours? When everyone can see that her instincts are aligned with me, not you? What then?”
“You’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” Logan hisses. “You’re still my personal guard, Cillian. You serve me. Always.”
“And we still need to learn the lesson about secrets the hard way, I see.” Cillian’s shoulders droop then, the fight leaching out of him almost as quickly as it appeared. The exhaustion that replaces it almost has me swaying on my feet. “Maya, why don’t you go clean up? The bathroom is through there.”
It’s a suggestion, not a command, but I find myself instinctively moving toward the door on the other side of theroom. Spend and slick leaks from between my legs, adding to the tacky sensation on my inner thighs as I stumble away. I’m very aware of the abused and disgusting state of my body. I absolutely reek of the two of them, a nauseous feeling rising in my gut with every breath I take.
The worst of this will never wash away, but a shower might help me feel like an actual person again.
Istay in the shower until the water turns lukewarm and I force myself out before anyone can come looking for me.
With the tap shut off, I can hear that Logan and Cillian are still verbally at each other’s throats. Their conversation has turned into harsh and muffled whispers that I don’t even try to parse through the closed door.
I just can’t bring myself to care.
The body I see reflected in the mirror is a constellation of bruises, galaxies of every color from the handprints set in bright pink to the purplish-yellow shadows where I was gripped too tightly.
A star map of where they’ve been and still have yet to go.
I stare at my reflection, seeing a stranger’s face. My eyes look hollow and hard as shards of amethyst, as if something essential has been scooped out of them. My normally vibrant hair seems dull against my pallid skin. I don’t recognize this person.
The bond pulses inside me like a second heartbeat. Pressure and release. Two distinct rhythms: Cillian’s steady presence and Logan’s domineering force. Both unwanted. Both permanent.
What options do I even have now?
I could run. The thought flickers through my mind like a match in darkness. But where? Eventually, the distance between us would become so painful that I’d be unable to take it. The bond would pull me back like a fish on a hook. Or it would act like a beacon, leading them right to me wherever I managed to hide. They will always be able to find me.
And if they don’t, the Doctor Sionis Thane probably will.
My stomach barely churns at the memory. It all feels so much more distant now: his clinical smile, his cold hands, the gleaming instruments. The basement. The restraints. The endless tests and injections.
I should have just let him kill me.
With Logan and Cillian, I might not be strapped down to a table, but there is also no chance of escape. No weakness to exploit. No biding my time in the hopes they make a mistake.
This is forever.
I trace the path of a bruise along my collarbone, then press down until my tender flesh blooms in painful protest. That ache grounds me, reminds me I’m still here. Still alive, despite everything.
The muffled argument beyond the door rises and falls like waves. They’re deciding my future without me. Again. Always.
“You had no right?—“
“She’s mine?—“
“—through me?—“
