Chapter Thirty-Three #2
Charles smiled coldly. “As I said: Useless to pretend. We know Evan’s enhancements and limitations intimately and are well-equipped
to cause even the Dead Man a world of pain.”
“Cedrick experimented on Reece first.” Grayson’s eyes were half lidded, but he was still fighting to get words out. “None
of this would’ve happened if he’d left empaths alone—”
“Evan, be silent or I’ll pull this trigger just to shut you up.” Charles gestured impatiently at Cedrick again, his gaze on
Reece. “I know when I’ve found a pressure point. I’ve dealt with more of your kind than you can imagine. How do you think
we discovered empaths can become corrupted in the first place? That was me, my research, nearly four decades ago.”
Four decades? “We’ve only had one generation of empaths,” Reece said with another pulse of anger. “How old was the empath you experimented
on?”
“Ten,” Charles said unapologetically. “We thought it’d be better to start young, to see if we could acclimate the pacifists
to violence so we could find uses for empaths in the military. Imagine our shock when we discovered so much more.”
He pressed the gun into Grayson’s temple, metal against skin. “But that’s all ancient history. In the here and now, you’re
going to provide us with another new data point.”
Reece ground his teeth. He wanted to tell Charles to go straight to hell, but his gaze was locked on the gun against Grayson’s
head. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Must I repeat myself?” Charles’s gun never wavered. “Bring. Cedrick. Back.”
“How do you not understand?” Reece bit out. “What you want is impossible—”
Lie.
Reece’s eyes went wide.
Charles cocked the gun. “Make it possible.”
“Reece?” Grayson wasn’t paying any attention to the gun at his temple, his gaze locked on Reece.
Reece spoke again, this time to himself. “What I did to Cedrick Stone is permanent.” Lie. “I can never undo it.” Lie.
How? How could those be lies? Reece couldn’t reverse what he’d done to Cedrick: He believed that, believed empaths could never
un-thrall their victims—
Part of you believes that, said a little voice in his head, the one he’d thought he had lost forever after the Olympia facility. The other part of you has always believed you can help.
Reece stared at Cedrick’s catatonic form on the gurney, his breaths starting to come faster. A lifetime ago, in a marina dry
dock, he’d told a corrupted Cora he could help her, and it hadn’t been a lie. He’d believed he could help.
But he’d still been a pacifist then. Now, the black lightning was leaping along his skin, almost painfully sharp. It didn’t
want to let go. It wanted revenge, wanted to make Charles and Cedrick Stone pay for everything they’d done. If Reece got his
hands on Cedrick right now, he’d kill him, and then Charles would kill Evan.
The corruption in you would kill Cedrick.
But what if there’s another path?
Reece’s gaze went to Grayson, and the gun still against his temple. Grayson’s hazy eyes met his. “Don’t listen to them, Reece—”
“Evan, be quiet,” Charles snapped. “Stone Solutions is not protecting you anymore. You are nothing but collateral now, and you’ll live longer if you behave accordingly. Do you understand?”
But Grayson was trying to shake his head. “Reece, just wait. Don’t do anything Stone wants—”
“Shut him up,” Charles said to a soldier.
The man smashed a hand over Grayson’s mouth, hard enough Reece heard the blow. Fresh anger jolted through him. “You get your
fucking hands off Evan—”
“Watch your mouth, you little shit—” Charles cut himself off. He closed his eyes and took a breath through his nose. “No.
I won’t be influenced.” He opened his eyes and gestured at Cedrick. “I’m waiting,” he said, calm on the surface but with an
undercurrent of anger. “And I won’t wait much longer. Undo what you did or Evan pays the price. I know you can hear the truth
in my words.”
Reece clenched his teeth. Corrupted or pacifist, it didn’t matter; there was no part of Reece that wanted to live in a world
without Evan.
Your compassion is a strength, Jamey had told him time and time again. Was it true? Was it strong enough to reverse what he’d done to Cedrick—if it was
strong enough to return to him in the first place?
“If I can bring Cedrick back,” he heard himself say, “I want your word that you won’t hurt Evan.”
“Reece,” he heard Grayson try to say.
Reece turned to Charles. “I want to know that no one here will hurt him. I want to hear you say it.”
“Give me Cedrick and I will return Evan to you unharmed,” Charles said.
Not a lie. “And you’ll give us one of your cars and let us leave,” Reece said tightly.
“You can have that SUV right there, and we’ll let you drive off,” Charles said. “Do we have a deal?”
Also not a lie. Reece nodded once.
Charles took one step backwards, gun still aimed at Grayson’s head. “Take the empath to Cedrick.”
The men holding him began steering him over to the van-turned-ambulance. Reece let them move him without fighting, his gaze
trained on the figure of Cedrick Stone on the gurney.
The black lightning was crackling angrily along his skin and the base of his skull, so his whole body was hot and prickling
with anger and power.
But corruption had never been alone in him. And from somewhere deep in his chest, something even stronger was rising back
up.
And then everything was black.
Grayson tried to force his eyes to stay open, no matter how much the drugs in his system were trying to pull his lids down.
There was blood on his lip from the blow, and he swiped his tongue over it, willing the sting and unpleasant taste to wake
him up.
“Watch them both,” Charles snarled at the uniformed men. “Don’t trust either of them or avert your eyes for a moment.”
The men were marching Reece toward the van. Did he really think he could fix Cedrick Stone? Un-thrall someone? As far as Grayson
knew, it couldn’t be done—
Reece suddenly went limp, so that the men holding him stumbled.
“The fuck?” The curse came from one of the men holding Reece, the one Grayson had threatened before, who Reece had said was
scared. “Hey! Wake up.”
Reece was unmoving in his grip, head lolling and eyes closed. “Empath!” The man shook Reece, hard. “Wake up and do what you’re supposed to do.”
Reece didn’t respond. He shook Reece again even harder, and when Grayson got free, this guy was getting more than bruises.
Grayson tried to open his mouth, but Reece was blinking hard and lifting his head. “What the hell are you doing to me?”
The man huffed with irritation. “You’re the one who—”
“There’s a curb right in front of us,” Reece snapped. “If you get distracted yanking on me, you might trip.”
There was a sudden silence.
“What the fuck did he just say?” said one of the men.
“I said this stupid guard could trip,” Reece repeated. “He’s so busy manhandling me he’s not paying attention, and could fall off the curb and onto the pavement.
You want him to get hurt?”
Grayson stared at Reece. He couldn’t have heard that right. He couldn’t—
“It can’t be,” Charles whispered, echoing Grayson’s thoughts. “It’s impossible.”
“And you,” Reece went on, to another man holding him. “Your grip on my arm is way too tight. If you don’t loosen your hold, you could
strain a muscle—”
“Stop!” Charles was marching forward, gun still in hand. “Stop,” he snapped again at a guard. “Don’t move. Don’t take him any closer to Cedrick.” He pointed at another guard. “Let me see
his eyes.”
One of the soldiers grabbed Reece’s chin in a gloved hand and forced his face up. Grayson pulled at the men who held him,
his muscles useless and watery as Charles Stone stared at Reece through narrowed eyes.
Whatever Alex had been planning, Grayson was absolutely certain it hadn’t included this.
“Is this a ruse?” Charles demanded of Reece.
Reece furrowed his brow. “A what?”
Charles turned to the guard with his hand on Reece’s jaw. “Is he resisting you? Is he fighting back at all?”
The guard used his hold to jerk Reece’s head to the right, then back to the left. “No, sir. He’s like a doll.”
“I don’t believe it,” Charles said hoarsely. “This is supposed to be impossible. Someone get this on film—”
“Who are you?” Reece said to Charles, not struggling against the hold on his chin.
“Who am—but of course.” Charles clapped his hands together. “Amnesia would have to be an inevitable component of reversion,
because how could the pacifist stand to know what was done under corruption—”
Reece’s gasp was audible.
“—and the empath would experience a full and instant breakdown—”
“What are you talking about?” Reece’s voice had a new note of distress. “Who are you? Why am I here?”
“You’re going to fix Cedrick Stone,” said the soldier still holding Reece by the chin.
“I’m what?” Reece’s eyes went very wide, his gaze going past his captors, to the van-turned-ambulance. “Oh my God—Cedrick
Stone—let me go.” He leaned in Cedrick’s direction.
“Hold him!” Charles snapped.
“No, you have to let me go.” Reece’s voice held not gravelly anger but a note of pleading Grayson hadn’t heard in ages. “I have to help Cedrick Stone.”
“Hold him immobile,” Charles barked at a soldier. “Do not let him look anywhere but me, understand?” he added as the soldier nodded briskly and held Reece’s face steady.
“You don’t want me to look?” Reece’s eyes were still wide. “Why not? What don’t you want me to see?”
Good chance Charles was trying to stop Reece from seeing Grayson himself, drugged and captured. “Reece,” Grayson tried to call through the hand on his mouth.
Reece made a choked sound. “Who was that—” He twitched in his captors’ grip, and the soldiers tightened their grip, holding
him in place.
Charles stepped closer, only inches from Reece. “What is the last thing you remember?” he demanded.
“I—I don’t—Vancouver, maybe? A dock, a boat? We can talk about it later. Just let me go, please,” Reece said, hoarse and begging. “I have to get to Cedrick—”
“Absolutely not.” Charles was gesturing at the waiting SUVs with his free hand. “Get him away from Cedrick at once.”