Grayson:It was still worth protecting your pacifist side from seeing what’s in that file.
Reece’s eyes narrowed.
Reece:It was pointless. Everything you did, everything you tried, from hiding these files to that bullet scar on your shoulder. POINTLESS.
Reece:You were never going to save me.
Shit. Reece hadn’t meant to text that much. He dropped his phone on the table with more force than necessary and went back to the manual. He clicked on the next page.
And froze.
It was a picture of Alex, a little younger than he was now, a beaming ray of sunshine holding a box of canned goods in gloved hands. He was standing next to a cheerful hand-lettered sign that readFood Drive!and flanked by two others of middle age, a woman with tan skin and hazel eyes and a pale man with blond-brown hair, both of them waving at the camera with smiles of their own.
Alex and his parents, before they were murdered to corrupt him.
Distantly, Reece heard his phone go off again. He glanced down at the screen.
Grayson:I bought us time before corruption got you.
Grayson:So no. It wasn’t POINTLESS. And I’d take that bullet again for the pacifist version of you.
Grayson:But you’ve made it real clear that’s not who you are anymore.
Reece swallowed. His gaze lingered on Grayson’s words.
He believes you’re a murderer now, said the little voice in Reece’s head.Of course he doesn’t think you’re worth a bullet anymore.
Reece shoved the phone to the side without responding. He forced his eyes back to the manual and the older picture of Alex with his parents in the days before corruption and the Dead Man.
Don’t click to the next page. Don’t do it.
Reece clicked down, too hard, even when he knew in his gut what he’d see.
And there it was: an old photo of Grayson, taken next to the same black F-150 Raptor that was now in Owens’s garage. In the picture, the truck was parked in the dappled shade of a stately oak, the tailgate down and boxes of food donations stacked in the bed. Grayson was casually dressed in shorts and a college T-shirt, crouching down to play with the oversized retriever trying to lick his face.
And he washappy.
The sound of the rain had been lost to the pounding of Reece’s heart in his ears. There was a golden summer hue to the picture, the sky a brilliant blue through the green-leaved tree branches stretching up above Grayson’s head. His eyes were crinkled at thecorners and his mouth was partially open, lips turned up like the photographer had captured him mid-laugh.
This was Evan before the Dead Man—the Evan in Texas who’d loved his parents, and his little brother, and apparently dogs.
And this picture was in a manual dedicated to his transformation, the upcoming pages a detailed recounting of exactly what horror he’d been put through in an underground bunker as twisted scientists following orders attempted to make the corruption in Alex even more powerful, and Alex had made him the Dead Man so they could escape.
I can’t undo it, and neither could you, Alex had said. For all intents and purposes, Evan’s transformation is permanent.
Reece yanked out the flash drive, the picture of Grayson disappearing from the laptop screen. He tossed the drive on the table, slammed the laptop shut and ran both hands roughly through his hair.
Fuck figuring out Grayson’s weaknesses. He had a new plan: learn the names of every person responsible for what had been done to the Grayson brothers.
And find them all.
He could start with Traynor—
Reece abruptly stilled.
He hadn’t realized he’d already gotten to his feet.
Distantly, he could hear voices outside, neighbors beginning to yell. He couldn’t let this happen; couldn’t deal with Traynor on his own before they could question him, couldn’t let himself lose control and start a neighborhood brawl that could bring the police.
