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 eyesclosed. “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 couldtrip,” 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.”
“Andyou,” 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 includedthis.
“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 mego.” Reece’s voice held not gravelly anger but a note of pleading Grayson hadn’t heard in ages. “I have to help Cedrick Stone.”
