In the distance, he could hear the voices.
“—spread out and search the building—”
They were getting closer, maybe in the lobby already.
“Comeon,” Grayson said. “Do you want to be a lab rat? You gotta move, Reece. I’ll buy you time.”
Reece swallowed. He set his foot into Grayson’s hands, gripping his shoulders, just like they’d done a short time and a lifetime ago. “Butwhy?” He sounded so lost as he looked into Grayson’s eyes, his oversized pupils like twin night skies. “Why are you helping me escape?”
Because I hear Victor Nichols downstairs. And I can’t let him have you.
And Grayson couldn’t stop himself: He darted in and brushed their lips together. It lasted less than a heartbeat, but he heard Reece’s breath catch, and the spark their split-second kiss lit across Grayson’s skin should’ve powered the whole building.
“I got my reasons,” Grayson whispered.
And before Reece could speak, Grayson boosted him up. Reece grabbed the ceiling and levered himself inside, disappearing into the vent. Grayson snatched up the ceiling tile from the floor as Reece looked down from the opening.
“Go,” Grayson urged him in a whisper. “Care Bear, please.”
Reece seemed about to say something. But then he swallowed down whatever it was and disappeared. Grayson fit the ceiling tile back in place as quickly as he could, hiding all evidence ofReece. Then he strolled out of the office, pulling the door closed behind him just seconds before a half-dozen armed soldiers in balaclavas and fatigues burst from the stairs.
“Can I help you?” Grayson said, flat as he said everything.
But the soldiers kept coming, pouring out of the stairwell without stopping. Safeties were being disengaged, weapons clicking in three hundred sixty degrees as they formed a tight circle around Grayson.
“Agent Grayson.” That was Victor Nichols’s voice. The circle around Grayson parted just enough to let Nichols’s familiar figure through. He stood with his forces ringing them and met Grayson’s eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
—that’s the Smart car, he must be here somewhere—we have nothing to fear, we’re ready for him this time—
The realization hit too late.
Nichols had never known Reece was here.
“Take him down,” Nichols said calmly.
And then the soldiers were on him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Formidable though he may be, the Dead Man has a fatal weakness as surely as Achilles: he will always choose to act as a guardian of the empaths, even when it poses a risk to himself.
A stupid and worthless flaw. The empaths only fear him. They’ll never reciprocate his protectiveness.
—One-year-old text from Victor Nichols to [REDACTED]
Sean Lennox, head of Charles Stone’s personal security, looked over the message he’d just received with a flash of irritation.
Snow increasing. Communications limited.
“Get it the fuck together,” Lennox snapped at his phone. The snow was still mild enough on the east side of the sound. He ducked under the roof of one of the structures that made up the former pulp mill north of Everett and put his phone to his ear as he made his scheduled call.
“Ah, Sean, right on time,” Charles Stone said, as he answered. “I always do appreciate your punctuality.”
“Yes, sir,” Lennox said. “We’re ready to transport the empaths to the Olympia facility, but that team is pushing back.”
“The snow is picking up in the mountains,” Charles said. “I’m choosing to see it as an excuse for a slight change in the plans.”
Lennox raised his eyebrows. “I was under the impression Dr. Nichols wanted to keep a tight schedule,” he said delicately.
