Chapter Four
You won’t see any updates on their socials. You won’t hear about it on the news. But here at Eyes on Empaths, we KNOW that something big must have happened at Stone Solutions last night.
HOW do we know? Because the Stone Solutions Board of Directors ALWAYS meets at Stone Solutions headquarters in Bellevue—except
TODAY, when they’re borrowing a conference room at American Minds Intact.
Still not convinced? We heard DIRECTLY from a savvy Eyes on Empaths reader who works at Stone Solutions. According to Anonymous, staff had to use the service elevators this morning because
construction crews are replacing the front windows.
Maybe they can fool the public, but WE know when something is suspicious—just like we know there’s more going on with the
empaths than we’re being told.
—Gretel Macy, blogging for Eyes on Empaths
Reece woke late, with a headache and a crawling along his skin.
Evil is hungry. It was such a cliché. And yet he felt it, like his body was crackling with electricity, a lightning storm looking for a target. It wanted to strike and revel in the destruction it left behind.
Reece pushed the thought away. It would settle. He was just even less of a morning person now.
He reached for his phone out of habit, then yanked his hand away before he picked it up. He didn’t need to see Grayson’s texts
again, definitely didn’t need to see if Jamey had sent more messages. Even Liam and Diesel had tried texting. He should block
them all.
But you won’t, the little voice in his head said. You need to know if someone tries to hurt them. Your sister, your friends, your—whatever you and Evan are.
Reece huffed. He and Evan were enemies, obviously.
Say it out loud, if you’re so sure it’s true, the voice in his head needled him.
Reece threw back the covers and forced himself to his feet.
One of the changes corruption had brought was a heightened awareness of the emotions around him. He followed the sense to
the kitchen and found the other two empaths sitting together at the breakfast table, Alex scrolling on his phone while Cora
peered at the screen of a laptop. On the wall, a television was playing local news with the sound muted.
Reece squinted into the too-bright light pouring in the many windows. “Thralls?”
“Guarding Traynor,” Alex said without looking up. “Y’all’s friend Ms. Macy has already posted about last night.”
To Reece’s fuzzy and headache-addled brain, his accent sounded extra reminiscent of Grayson’s. One more thought to carefully
ignore.
Cora did look up, meeting Reece’s eyes. “‘Y’all’s friend,’ he says, as if he isn’t a blogger himself and a genuine fanboy
of Eyes on Empaths.”
“It’s not like I agree with her,” Alex said. “But she knows what’s going on better than the news. And she cares about the truth.”
Reece side-eyed him. “Didn’t Gretel tell everyone we can mind-control pumpkins?”
“If you had actually read October’s featured story,” Alex said long-sufferingly, “you’d know Ms. Macy was speculating that
an empath could influence the emotions of the person carving the pumpkin.” He gestured at the three of them. “And she’s not
wrong.”
Reece rubbed his temple. Eyes on Empaths was not going to help the headache. “Are you still in touch with her?”
“She hasn’t texted since our last exchange. And I’m not texting her, for the obvious reasons.” Alex held out the phone. “Though
she has dedicated tags for both of you.”
“You’d have your very own tag too, if she knew what you were,” Cora said to Alex, as Reece glanced at the phone.
On-screen was a picture of the auto show he’d gone to in Vancouver, he himself just visible on the picture’s edge, wearing
the hat with bear ears that Grayson had bought him. The photographer had obviously been focused on Grayson, though, centering
the tall figure speaking into his phone. So annoyingly good-looking, obviously drawing the eye of several others in the photo.
Even if Photo Grayson’s own eyes were on Reece.
Reece quickly averted his gaze. “She’s also tagged this one for your brother.”
“I know.” Alex wrinkled his nose. “I do try not to see her whole readership lusting after the so-called Dead Man.” He scoffed. “I can’t believe Evan has a secret code name. He probably thinks he’s Batman.”
Cora snorted. “So the thralls wrote down what they could remember of Stone Solutions’ recent textile deliveries.
I’m searching for warehouses and shipping lines,” she said, pointing to a piece of paper next to the laptop.
“Then Alex pointed out that in the meantime, we could relieve Stone Solutions of some of their current materials.”
Reece perked up. “Oh?”
“Don’t get excited yet,” Cora said ruefully. “Because according to our new friends Eton and Pelham, after delivery, materials
for empath gloves are stored in locked vaults on the second sublevel. And for security reasons, the codes are known only to
leadership—and the head of security, Wayne Smith.”
This time, Reece did groan, his palm covering his face, the sensation of his own warm bare skin instead of cold gloves still
unexpected. “And I let him go last night.”
“But we can get him back.” Alex held out the phone again. “There’s a reason I’m on Eyes on Empaths this morning.”
Reece took the phone. On-screen was an article dated that morning, titled in Gretel’s signature exuberant style.
BOD Meeting Moved to AMI—What’s Going On at Stone Solutions??
“So they had to move the board meeting to American Minds Intact because of our break-in?” Reece scanned the article. “But
if the board is going to be at AMI—” his eyes closed, his corrupted empathy automatically leaping up to make connections for
him “—then they’re going to want all the security they can find, just in case we show up again. Which means Smith, because
a different man might stay home today to recover, but Smith is so derisive of the whole concept of empathy, he won’t even
have it for himself. He’ll be there.”
He opened his eyes to see Alex and Cora nodding along. “He’s going to be tougher to get to now, though,” Cora said. “We’ll
need a plan.”
The black lightning brought an answer. “Grand larceny,” Reece said.
“AMI’s offices are in a high-rise, but there’s an AMI storefront at street level.
Instead of trying to infiltrate a conference room on the upper floor, I bring Eton and Pelham to rob the store. Security comes down. I pick off Smith.”
“You said I, not we,” Alex pointed out.
“Because this is my fuckup,” Reece said more tightly. “I’m the one who left Smith un-thralled. I’m going to do it right this
time.”
Cora and Alex exchanged a glance. “Eton and Pelham won’t do well away from Alex,” Cora pointed out. “Thralls have limited
lives anyway, but the farther they are from the empath they’re devoted to, the faster they start deteriorating.”
“True,” Reece said lightly. “But maybe turning two deteriorating thralls loose in an AMI store sounds like a damn fine time.”
“Well, now I don’t want to miss it,” Alex said wryly.
“Come on,” Reece said, pleadingly. “You two keep looking for the warehouses and ships. I have a lot of practice fucking things
up, but let me fix this.”
Alex and Cora exchanged another look. “Okay,” Cora said, sounding like it was against her better judgment. “But promise you’ll
call us if Stone Solutions brings in the— Ugh. Speak of the devil.”
Reece followed her gaze up to the television. On-screen was an advertisement for Stone Solutions, children and puppies running
in slow motion across a meadow with fake mountains generated in the background. Curved text scrolled over the screen: Protect our minds. Protect our future.
“This has got to be the fourth time this ad has played,” Alex said, sounding bored. “At least Gretel would never believe we
can emotionally control dogs.”
Reece took a breath through his nose.
Alex glanced his way. “You’re good, right?”
Reece blew the breath out, too hard. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Uh-huh,” Alex said skeptically, sounding far too much like his brother. “You do remember if you project anger, there are
thralls here now, and they’ll start fighting?”
“I know.” It was fine. Reece was fine. He’d grown up having his shows interrupted by worse Stone Solutions commercials than that.
And maybe it never really stopped stinging, but he wasn’t that helpless pacifist anymore.
The on-screen text was still scrolling: A bill in Congress would mean safety measures around empathy: Tell your representatives that you support S.B. 1437.
Reece’s jaw tightened. On second thought, maybe he and his hair-trigger temper shouldn’t be watching this. Alex was going
back to his phone and Cora’s gaze had returned to the laptop, so Reece took the moment to slip out of the kitchen, back to
his room.
As he closed the door behind him, his eyes went to the phone that still sat on the nightstand. Before he’d realized what he
was doing, he’d picked it up, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling up his last text message to Grayson.
Reece: Stop jerking off to your own hair and pay attention: I am not your Care Bear anymore. Don’t you get it, Evan? I’m the bad
guy now.
Grayson had responded early that morning.
Grayson: If I were someone else, that threat might be scary.
Grayson: But I’m still the Dead Man. So maybe you’re the one who doesn’t get it, sugar, because handling bad empaths? Handling YOU?
Kinda my whole job.
Reece’s fingers were already moving. You weren’t complaining when I handled YOU in the back of the truck—
Fuck, no, DELETE. Jesus. Reece threw the phone across the bed like the bad decision enabler it was.
Whatever treasonous cell in his unhinged brain that had always gleefully ignored common sense in favor of panting after Grayson
had unfortunately survived corruption intact. But it didn’t matter, because Reece was going to ignore it. Going to put Stone
Solutions and Grayson both firmly out of his mind and plan a robbery.
Except he’d already picked his phone back up.
Reece: No more Mr. Nice Dead Man, is that what you’re trying to say? Please.
Reece: If you’re so sure you can handle bad empaths, come and get me then.