Page 172 of Harley & Her Ferals

Harbinger tries to hide it with his smirk, banter, and his white suit.

The bond strips him bare.

Is it because Harbinger is separated from the rest of the pack during the initial bonding period? Or is Vinnie punishing him each night on top of that?

I can’t feel every time that my other bonded packmates are hurt. I know because River stubbed his toe on the nightstand yesterday and hopped around like it was a strange new dance.

Laurent’s amusement was stronger through the bond than River’s pain.

Even though I can feel a terrible thinning of the bond with Harbinger like a thread being pulled tight, however, it hasn’t snapped.

Yet.

It’s held strong. Just like Harbinger has.

I believe in him. I have to hold onto that.

I haven’t told the rest of the pack what I’m feeling, only that I can still sense Harbinger through the bond because Laurent has been so worried.

Yet Feral has been casting me piercing looks.

He knows me too well. He also understands how the Hades pack works.

Has Vinnie truly sent Harbinger to the Discipline Cells?

I shudder.

When I was nine, Dad took Allegra, Lionzio, and me to the intimidating corridor that led to the freezing concrete block of cells.

“Only the naughtiest people are locked up here to be punished in the dark,” he warned.

He knew that Lionzio was terrified of the dark.

I sometimes wondered if it was because Lionzio had been blindfolded, while he was brought all the way from Sicily to America and then to the Underworld.

When Lionzio looked like he may bolt, Dad rested his heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Then we’ll never need to go to this nasty place, will we Papi?” Allegra lisped.

When Dad tightened his hold on Lionzio’s arm, my stomach dropped. “Of course not, giomia mia. Soft Omegas should be tamed by a gentle hand at home. These Discipline Cells, however, is where bad Alphas are taught a lesson, including unruly, disobedient puppies.”

When Dad dragged a struggling Lionzio by his ear toward the cells, I began to cry. “Daddy, no,no… Bring my brother back.”

I didn’t see Lionzio for a month after that.

When at last he was sitting at the breakfast table again, looking immaculate in a suit like he’d never been away, he was quiet.

And he flinched even more.

He was also neverdisobedientto Dad.

He’d been conditioned into Dad’s perfect soldier…and son.

When I wipe my hand over my cheeks, they’re wet at the memory.

Yet Harbinger isn’t a traumatized kid who is frightened of the dark.

He won’t break like Lionzio did, right?

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