Page 82 of A Cruel Kindness

I nodded, even though the panic hadn’t even remotely fled my body.

“Oi,” General Iroko called, forcing us to break apart. “We’re leaving.”

Soren’s hands tightened on my shoulders, and I was half convinced someone was going to have to physically rip me from him. I looked up at him to find him already looking at me.

A real, honest streak of pain broke across his face, but he took a step back. Then another. He walked several steps backwards, never breaking eye contact with me until he was forced to turn and follow one of the Guard to the truck at the back of the convoy.

Someone ushered me forward, but I only passively realized what was happening. My gaze was glued to Soren as he stepped into the car. I was so distracted that I missed the step up I was supposed to take and tripped, slamming my shin into the metal step.

Soren lunged forward, the soldiers on either side of him catching his arms, restraining him just enough to slam the door shut and close us off from one another. The look on his face before they shut him away from me triggered my end of the Bond, my body moving before I realized what was happening.

I made it two feet from the car before General Iroko stepped in front of me and snapped, “In the car. Now.”

I breathed in, making myself control my reaction as I slowly turned and stepped into the truck. So this was how this was going to be for the next few days, huh? A bunch of people who had no idea how to handle paranimas. I wouldn’t say it to General Iroko, but that was incredibly stupid of him.

At the base around the Bridge, everyone knew what to do. I didn’t think I fully realized it until this moment, how things naturally fell to accommodate Matches. Not just the seating and the bunks.

People knew not to tease a fresh Bond too much, not to get in the way of someone when their Match was injured, not to speak poorly about them in their presence.

All of that was escalated with paranimas, and it was now explicitly clear the Guard was planning on treating us like any other person.

Someone was going to end up wounded, I was sure of it.

I could barely feel my shin hurting from where I’d slammed it against the step, not when I was being crushed on either side by soldiers. If I thought the ride to the Bridge was bad, sitting stick straight so that my Mark stayed off the cold, hard interior of the van, I was sorely mistaken.

This was torture.

As the car took off into the Sicco Desert, the soldier on my right slammed into me, and that entire side of my body erupted in pain. I looked down, half convinced I’d find flames trailing over the arm of my black long sleeve, even though the fabric was made to resist fire.

For the next three hours, I stayed in agony. Every single time someone touched me, even after I’d snapped halfway through and told them all to stay away from me, the pain doubled, compounding until my breaths were labored and sweat trickled down my spine, right over the tree trunk of our Mark.

The physical pain was made worse by the tightness in my chest, a horrid, unshakable feeling of dread that made me feel like I was being ripped apart from the inside out.

I needed Soren.

Even though we were probably no more than two or three hundred feet away from each other in the convoy, it was still too far. The Bond didn’t register the relatively close distance.

It only understood that we weren’t together, and it was making me pay the price for pissing it off. I could tell that we were approaching the rest stop, because the road turned from the smooth, arid sand of the uninhabited desert to the rough, overrun roads of the small town that had been erected for the sole purpose of refueling.

There wasn’t even a place to find food. Just water, a place to relieve yourself, and gas.

My car hit a particularly sharp ditch that took everyone off guard, and I was smushed between two sweaty bodies with such force I thought I heard my ribs crack.

That was it, this was my breaking point. Even though I was screaming at myself to keep it together, to not show a single moment of vulnerability in front of the guard, I could feel tears welling in my eyes.

I missed Soren. The Bond was pouting and making me throw a pity party in response. The car came to a rapid halt, and a heavy breath fell from my lips. Before anyone could think of stopping me, I shot towards the doors at the back of the van and shoved them open, the oppressive desert sun momentarily blinding me.

When I blinked to clear my vision, I saw Soren breaking into a full sprint towards me from the back of the convoy, sheer pain written all over his face.

I no longer cared to save face in front of the Guard. They could choke on sand for all I cared.

I launched myself down the steps and onto the ground as fast as I could. Soren’s legs were longer, his stride faster, so he caught up to me in seconds. I didn’t even wait to consider whether or not he’d catch me, I just jumped into his arms and wrapped my body around his.

He pulled me flush to his chest, almost crushing me with the force of his grip. Where the lightest brush of a soldier’s arm in that car felt like the slice of a blade, his strong hold felt like the summer sun warming my face for the first time after a bitter winter.

It made me feel rather primal, how much his scent affected me. That didn’t stop me from burying my nose in his neck and inhaling deep, letting the warm and rich smell of him chase away the tightness in my chest.

Soren’s hand twisted in my hair and I could feel his nose brushing my temple. If I wasn’t mistaken, I heard him inhale.