He takes a breath and looks down at me for a second before looking back up, using a single moment to square away his own feelings before continuing. “My father started this town with my uncle. My father, who you're all so terrified of for a single moment of extreme anger and emotion that he had no control over. Every last one of you villainized him for a single moment of his life that wasn’t his best. Let me make one thing very clear to you all now—my mother deserved the death she got.”
The entire room goes silent.
I refuse to look around at anyone or make a face that might give away how I feel about what North is saying. Nox’s fingers are cold around my wrist, but he’s not surprised by this admission.
North must have warned him that it was coming.
“I will not speak on this issue any further. I won’t tolerate any gossip about it either. My mother transgressed on such a level that I feel nothing towards her death but gratitude to my father for doing what was right, even at the cost of his own life. I have borne the brunt of the hatred and distrust for my family name because of an act of real love from a father, and I did so because it’s no one else’s business. My father died with a clear conscience, and I have always intended to live up to his legacy. Dissolving the council and setting up a new one does so.”
No one dares to speak, no one moves, and no one in this room dares to question the honesty or integrity of North Draven again.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Oli
Life enters a weird,new normal for us all.
Gabe and Atlas spend their days helping build houses and working on the new extensions for the school that are under way. North and Nox occupy themselves organizing an election for the new council. They go through the logistics of setting something like that up and how they can best use their resources to ensure that the Top Tier families don’t attempt to corrupt the voting process. I think it would be incredibly bold of them to attempt it. When I say this out loud, everybody stares at me like I'm either dumb or naive.
“Men in power will always choose to stay in power, Bonded. You should remember that,” North drawls as he sips his whiskey at the dinner table, pages of information still spread out in front of him even as he eats.
I smile coyly back at him. “I don't need to. I have a Bonded Group for that. I get to dance around and think the best of everyone at all times. Isn't that great?”
Gryphon scoffs at me and takes one of the rolls from my plate, ignoring the daggers that North shoots at him, but I bat my eyelashes until he serves me a spoonful of potatoes in exchange. I wasn't expecting to love them as much as I do, but the chef has always been insanely talented at figuring out exactly what carbs I need on any given day.
“You don't think the best ofanyoneatanytime, not even your Bonded, so don't try that bullshit here, Oli.” I flick a pea in his direction, but he's not exactly wrong.
Gryphon spends his days down at the Tac Training Center, working with the new recruits to get them as trained as we possibly can before our next conflict crops up. There's no doubt in any of our minds that it's only a matter of days, not weeks, before we're hit again. The Resistance have always tried to throw everything they can at us without taking a break, and the news of the deaths has already quieted down. I feel as though we’re in the calm before the storm.
I spend my days bouncing between the three groups, trying to help but mostly being a distraction to them all. More often than not, I find myself pressed up against a hard surface somewhere. My Bonded are just as insatiable for me as my bond is for them. I might also enjoy their presence a little more than I'm willing to admit, which is a whole lot.
I spend more time with Gryphon than I do the rest, though it isn't favoritism. I'm keenly aware that he’s just lost his father. His mother, from whom he is estranged, is still sitting in the cells underneath the Tac Training Center. She’s not exactly a prisoner, but she’s not trusted enough to walk the streets of the Sanctuary.
I tried to reassure them all that I'm fine with her being out and about. I don't think she's going to attempt to hurt me, and I doubt she could even if she tried, but her words are still very clear in my Bonded’s minds. Gryphon was the first person to shut down that idea.
It's only after I go to visit him at the Tac Training Center and he squirrels me away into the small office that he finally reveals what has been eating away at him all this time.
He sits me on his desk in front of him and takes a moment to lay his head across my lap, enjoying my fingers as I scratch his scalp after I pull the hair tie out, threading my fingers through it as I work. I’m intent on just being here for him and offering him whatever comfort I can. Physical, mental, emotional; I’m here for it all.
“My parents weren't really Bonds,” he mutters against my thigh, and my fingers falter for a moment before I get back to scratching.
“They did the blood tests?”
He shakes his head. “My father refused. I got Sawyer to pull them and rerun them. He's only doing them on my request because the database is so big. It’ll take him years to rerun everything, but there was something that I just couldn't let go of that the god said… North too. So I asked him to rerun them. My mom also requested that we don't do it. She told me she knew exactly how she felt about my father, and she didn't need a blood test to tell her they were Bonds. I guess she was wrong.”
I scowl a little as my eyes wander over the large map of the entire country he has hanging over his desk. Small flags mark the Resistance camps. It looks a lot like the one that Atlas’ mom had sent to us before she died, only there are a lot of older camps and Wastelands on it that have already been shut down.
I’d questioned him about it the first time he brought me up here. He'd sent me a sheepish grin, which was so foreign on his face that I almost wish I'd taken a photo of it.
“It's proof that we're actually getting something done around here. Proof that we're making a difference. That even though more Resistance camps and Wastelands keep popping up, we are still getting rid of some. It might not seem like a lot, but to the people trapped inside of them, it’s huge. I have to remind myself that every life saved might be a single number on our data sheet, but to that one person? It's their entire life. Remembering the small things in this big mess is what gets me through the night when everything becomes just a bit too much.”
I don't like him speaking like that.
It sends a small tingle of fear into my belly, but I understand what he means. Sometimes I lie awake at night, the sound of their breathing all around me, and yet, even in the safety of their arms, I can't go back to sleep.
I know exactly what he's talking about.
“Do you really think she doesn't know? Or that she's just convinced herself that she does? I can't imagine not knowing.”
