“Reeceknew?”
No. Traynor had to be wrong, because that was impossible. How the hell could Reece have possibly known that Traynor planned to kill him—
But there was one way, wasn’t there?
Reece had damn powerful empathy. He’d been suspicious already, had suspected that Grayson had pissed off Stone Solutions and the Empath Initiative by taking the empaths’ side. Reece had told Grayson as much, had been worried they weren’t going to tolerate that from Grayson forever, but Grayson had assumed he was untouchable.
Your arrogance is your biggest weakness, Evan.
The pacifist version of Reece in the truck with Grayson that night hadn’t had a single shred of self-defense. If Reece had believed someone else was in danger, he would have tried to save them, no matter the potential cost to himself.
And the best chance he would’ve had to figure out where the danger might be coming from was using the corrupted empath’s power of insight.
Reece had been on the edge between pacifism and corruption for months. If he had believed there was danger to Grayson and had reached for the power of insight on purpose, that might’ve been the final straw to push him fully into corruption.
Thoughts and memories were rising in Grayson’s mind, insistent and strong. Grayson shook his head, clearing all of it away. “You said, ‘We were going to kill you.’ Who’swe?”
Traynor only pushed at the car door, growling inhumanly.
“Who were you working with to kill me?” Grayson tried again.
But Traynor didn’t speak. Now blood was running freely from his nose as well as his eyes. He wasn’t coming back. Not from this.
Grayson stepped back, simultaneously drawing his gun in a rapid motion. Traynor roared and pushed up at the car door. Grayson fired a single bullet, right in the center of his forehead.
Traynor slumped to the ground, instantly dead. A more merciful death, maybe, than letting the corruption eat away at him for a couple more hours until it inevitably killed him.
Grayson’s chest felt tighter than normal, his heart beating a little too fast. But then, he was sweaty from the fight, still breathing hard from the physical exertion.
He got back in the Smart car, starting the engine.
Reece might have sacrificed his pacifism for the chance to save Grayson’s life. Knowing that was exactly the kind of thing that might’ve given someone else feelings.
So it was a good thing Grayson didn’t have any. However it had happened, Reece was corrupted now, and innocent people couldn’t afford for the Dead Man to forget that.
But if Reece could choose corruption to save you, maybe thereisa chance it could be reversed. For Reece—for Alex—for all of the empaths—
Grayson ignored the voice, pulling the Smart car back onto the road. St. James could hope the empaths could be saved; he’d remember that they needed to be stopped. He’d get Nichols’s research for her so she could keep having hope, and the Dead Man would stay the empaths’ enemy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Remember our conversation about whether empaths could potentially be acclimated to violence if we started exposure young enough?
Get on the next plane to Seattle.
You’re not going to believe this.
—Thirty-eight-year-old note buried in a filing cabinet at the Empath Initiative
Alex leaned on the rail on the Bellingham Boardwalk, gaze not on the water but on his phone. Gretel had responded to his condolences about her parents.
Gretel:What would you say if I told you I think my parents’ murder was a setup?
His eyebrows went up. How much did she know? Who did she suspect? The waves rolled in quietly as he typed a message back.
Alex:I’d say you’re probably right. Your parents were pretty powerful people.
Another pair of texts came in a moment later.
