Page 149 of Bonds of Pain
The bullet tears through Logan’s shoulder, the impact spinning him halfway around. He stumbles back with a startled curse, clutching at the wound as blood seeps between his fingers. His royal blood looks exactly like anyone else’s as it drips onto the ground.
“Maya!” Ares lunges forward, his massive frame coiled with protective rage, stopping only when I swing the gun toward him. His green eyes—usually dancing with cruel humor—are now wide with genuine shock.
“Next one goes in his heart,” I warn, my voice steadier than I feel. The weight of the weapon is unfamiliar but oddly comforting in my palm. “Back up.”
Ares raises his hands, his muscular body tensing as though physically restraining himself from attacking me. “Let’s all just calm down and think about this,” he says, his usually playful tone replaced with something cautious and deliberate.
“I’ve had plenty of time to think,” I reply, returning my aim to Logan. My mind flashes with vivid memories of white walls and straps cutting into my skin. “While I was being carved up. While Cillian was being tortured. While Sionis-goddamned-Thane turned us into his personal science experiment. I don’t need any more time to think.”
Logan’s face contorts with pain, but his eyes never leave mine. Blood continues to seep through his fingers, staining the royal insignia on his uniform. “We didn’t know?—”
“You knew you couldn’t protect me, but you still took all my choices away!” My voice rises despite my efforts to control it, raw with emotion that’s been building for months. The gun wavers slightly in my grip before I steady it. “Is the king dead?”
Logan blinks, confusion momentarily overriding the pain. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple. “What?”
“Answer me. Is your father dead?” I demand, the barrel of the gun unwavering.
His jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck straining. “No.”
I laugh, the sound hollow and bitter, scraping my throat like broken glass. “Then we’re all traitors, and we’ll be dead by morning. Your father isn’t the benevolent ruler everyone thinks he is—he’s a monster with a crown.”
Logan surprises me when he doesn’t argue. “I know.”
“We have a safe place,” Ares interrupts, taking a careful step forward. His eyes dart between me and Logan, calculating. “A location not even the king knows about. Completely off the grid. We can regroup, figure out our next move, treat Cillian’s wounds…and Logan’s.”
“There is no next move,” I snap, fury bubbling up again. “Your king knows everything—about Cillian, about the bond, about what Logan did to Ander. He’s been watching us all along, pulling strings like we’re puppets. He let Thane use us like lab rats for his twisted experiments.”
“Maya,” Poe’s voice is soft beside me, surprisingly gentle coming from someone who normally fades into shadows. His dark eyes meet mine, a silent understanding passing between us. “We need to go. Now. More of Thane’s people will be here soon.”
“You mean the king’s people,” I correct, bitterly.
My hand trembles slightly, the weight of the gun growing heavier with each passing second. The metal is warm against my palm, almost alive with potential. Part of me wants to pull the trigger again, to finish what I started. To make Logan feel even a fraction of the pain he’s caused, to watch the light fade from those golden eyes that once captivated me.
But Cillian sags against Poe, his pale hair matted with blood, his ice-blue eyes barely focused. His thin frame shudders with each labored breath. His needs matter more than my revenge.The Omega in me recognizes his suffering, even as the woman in me craves justice.
“Fine,” I say, lowering the gun slightly, but not holstering it. My finger remains near the trigger, ready. “But I’m leaving. On my own. I’m done being your property, Logan.”
“You won’t be safe on your own,” Poe protests
“I’ve never been safe,” I reply, backing toward one of the vehicles parked nearby, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. “Not since the moment I set foot in that palace. Not since I first caught your scent, Logan.”
Ares moves to help Logan, whose face has gone pale from blood loss, his golden skin now ashen. “Maya, don’t be stupid,” Ares growls, supporting Logan’s weight with his massive arms. “We’re stronger together. This isn’t just about Logan anymore—we’re all targets now.”
“I’m done being part of your pack.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, but it’s time to swallow my medicine down.
Cillian pulls away from Poe, swaying on his feet. His whipcord-thin body trembles with the effort of standing. Blood trickles from a cut above his eye, but his gaze is suddenly clear and focused on me. “Let her go. Give her a car and let her go.”
“The bond—” Logan starts.
“Is broken,” Cillian finishes for him, on a pained exhale. “Or at least broken enough that she’ll survive the separation. Let her go.”
Ares approaches slowly, hands still raised, his hulking frame moving with surprising caution. “Take the car with the black markings. It’s got untraceable tags, no tracking system. The autopilot can be programmed to go wherever you need.” He gestures to the sleek vehicle at the edge of the loading dock, its midnight exterior reflecting the harsh overhead lights. “The windows are blackened. If you sit in the back seat, no one will see you inside. There’s a medkit and emergency supplies in thetrunk. And some credit chits in the glove box. Money won’t last long, but it’s enough to get you started.”
I back toward the vehicle, keeping the gun trained on Logan. His golden eyes follow me, filled with an emotion I can’t—or won’t—identify. “
Why are you helping me?” I ask Ares, suspicion coloring my voice.
“Because it’s what I should have done a long time ago.” Ares’s voice catches, an emotion I can’t name flickering across his face. The hardened enforcer suddenly looks vulnerable, his cherubic green eyes shadowed with regret. “I’m sorry, Maya. For everything.”
