Page 49 of Interion

“Being close to you.”

“Why?” I huffed, lacing my fingers together to keep them still.

“I can't answer that question.”

I grunted in exasperation. Zion had shifted his posture and now wore a cold mask of calm, as if explaining something to a two-year-old. I took a deep breath, crossing my arms as well, and tried another question:

“Why did you disappear for five years?”

“Do I need a reason beyond the fact that my job is in the forests?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, nearly shouting. “I did my research, Zion. I know soldiers in the army return to the walls every month. I know you all get leave every year. But you never came back, not even to see Kiara, and I want to know why.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes so intense they seemed to burn my skin, leaving me anxious and unsettled. Zion had this gift: looking at someone and making them feel uncomfortable just for existing.

“Why?” This time his voice had an even sharper edge. “I thought it was pretty obvious, but maybe I was wrong to think your intelligence could follow the logic.”

My jaw dropped.

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“Not exactly, but I'd say someone with a higher IQ would've already figured out that I want distance.”

Zion's voice carried something bitter—I could almost taste it on my own tongue. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the pain that had pierced my chest. I never stopped being amazed at my heart's ability to still be hurt by things that should have left it calloused by now.

Zion kept staring at me, gauging my every reaction to his words.

“It would've been simpler to just say so, but you preferred to run away like the arrogant coward you are.” I clenched my hands into fists, holding myself still. “And what about all the promises you made in that hospital room?”

My throat was a hard, painful knot. Zion hesitated at those words, as if he too had been blindsided by the memories and lost the ground beneath his feet. He seemed to want to ask something, looking confused, but quickly composed himself and the serious facade returned.

“I promised you protection, a safe place, and company. You're inside three walls, living in a comfortable house with Kiara. I kept my word. I don't know what else you expect from me, Kyller.”

I sighed and looked away. He was right—those had been his exact words. Zion had rambled about other things, but none of them had been promises. I heard him scoff and looked up, only to see him let out a mocking laugh as he continued:

“What? Did you really expect us to tie the compatibility bond? You and me?”

I felt my face burn, embarrassed and small beside him. By the scalding abyss, I should have been retorting—I should have set his hair on fire for talking to me like this—but those words hit me deep, in a spot already cracked and exposed in my chest. Rejection from Interion didn't shake me, but being spurned by a partner, someone who should be part of me, hurt in a searing way.

“I didn't mean that,” I murmured, looking away so he wouldn't see the humiliation written on my face. “I wouldn't dare bring up something like that. I just wanted to be your friend.”

Zion stayed silent for so long I thought he'd disappeared into the shadows and left me there alone. When he spoke again, his voice was firm, cold, and once more carried that bitter edge:

“Friend? You've got to be kidding me.”

We stared at each other for a long moment. My thoughts were a jumble, but the pain was clear and all too real. Each of his words cut as sharp as the arrowheads I'd shot that day. Standing face to face, it felt like I might suffocate at any moment.

I was finally ready to turn and flee that horrible situation when he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, stopping me from leaving. The moment our bodies touched, a current slammed into me full force, pulling me closer to him, and I gasped at the whirlwind of sensations that hit me. Amid the chaos of feelings, I realized there was a connection between our minds and figured it must be the bond. I'd never felt it so tangible before. Zion took advantage of the link being more active and, with impossible force, pulled my mind into his. One moment I was at the academy, and the next I was staring at a dimly lit room.

I stared in horror at the dark cellar where he kept all the breeding women and descendants he'd captured. Some wept in despair, others shielded their families with their own bodies, and some were broken beyond repair—but above all, every single one of them was desperate. Then the images twisted and shifted, revealing a battlefield littered with countless decomposing bodies. Fragments of a suffering, abused people flashed through my mind—a dignified, righteous people who'd had the misfortune of being born in the wrong place.

Before he could add more disturbing images, I pushed him away, severing the connection. I shoved Zion with all the strength my shocked limbs could muster, but I only managed to make him take a single step back. Tears welled in my eyes, and my legs trembled like jelly.

“My people!” My voice came out strangled. “You killed them,” I shouted, bracing myself against the training table.

These were the images I'd spent years trying to avoid—my own partner, the murderer of innocent people.

“Do you understand?” he asked, his eyes promising war.