skills. With our formula,
you can enhance anyone you want. Key contacts within an organization, informants, those with a personal connection to the target.” And with that he looked straight at me.
St. John had done this intentionally. Why? What did it even mean to “enhance” someone? How deep did St. John’s process go? My thoughts were consumed by this shift in reality. I
was afraid to move, to inhale or exhale with any degree of force, as if that might cause the sight of Zane to dry up and crumble away.
“Assuming they survive,” Laughlin said dryly with a sniff. But he didn’t seem upset, more amused than anything.
“This is unacceptable!” Jacobs shouted, his fists clenched.
“Oh, don’t be a poor sport just because he outmaneuvered you,” Laughlin said gleefully. “Picked the boy up off the pavement, did you?” he asked St. John.
“Smart.”
“What is going on?” Melody demanded.
I ignored all of them, the din around me fading into a faint hum, as I watched Zane. His chest was moving in and out steadily, and there was no sign of the bullet wound that had seemingly killed
him.
He was here. He was alive.
The urge to see him close up, to touch him, swept over me, squeezing my chest. I lurched in Zane’s direction.
Jacobs made a grab for my elbow, but I pushed him away before he made contact, sending him stumbling and crashing into his chair under the invisible force of my mind, the very ability he’d
gifted me with.
Then I shoved at our table, swinging it neatly out of my way. The fastest route to Zane was through the U, not around it.
Chaos erupted then, with someone shouting for the guards, who piled into the room, moving around Zane like water flowing around a rock as they searched for the threat.
And still Zane didn’t react. What had they done to him?
“Stop her!” Jacobs’s shriek pierced the fog in my head.
But I didn’t need to be stopped. I halted all on my own in front of St. John’s table, two feet from Zane.
His face was pale, but his cheeks were flushed, just like Adam’s.
“Zane?” I asked, my voice hoarse and scared sounding.
He didn’t move, but his gaze flicked to mine for the barest of seconds. Any farther from him and I probably wouldn’t have seen it.
He knew his name, at least. But that appeared to be it. The look he’d given me had held no recognition or significance.
Knock, knock, knock, but nobody’s home.
My knees wobbled, weak suddenly, as a huge, wrenching sob rolled out of me, catching me by surprise before I could stop it.
Not that it mattered. The GTX guards were on me seconds later, pulling at my arms and shoulders, tugging me away.
No. I fought out of instinct, breathing hard and fast through my mouth, like an animal in attack mode. I pushed back against every hand on me, throwing them off me.
One of the men flew into Laughlin’s table, colliding with it hard and setting off a chain reaction. The glass pitcher and glasses hit the floor, and Laughlin scrambled out of the way, his
assistants following with a shriek as the table collapsed.
Then, without moving from where he stood, Zane reached out and righted the man without touching him, pulling him away from the table and the glass shards with telekinesis as naturally and easily
as if he’d been born to do it.
I froze, adrenaline thundering in my veins and air trapped in my chest.
Oh. Oh no. What had they done to him?
The GTX guards grabbed me again, but I didn’t fight this time, my mind reeling from the possible implications. Zane shouldn’t have been able to do that. What did it mean that he
could? Was the Zane I knew still in there somewhere? Or was this some new version? Someone molded and fashioned to be like me, just to prove St. John’s point?
“I think perhaps it’s best if we postpone the remainder of this meeting until it can be held without disruption,” Morpheus said with obvious disapproval.
“Wait! That’s not necessary,” Dr. Jacobs protested
you can enhance anyone you want. Key contacts within an organization, informants, those with a personal connection to the target.” And with that he looked straight at me.
St. John had done this intentionally. Why? What did it even mean to “enhance” someone? How deep did St. John’s process go? My thoughts were consumed by this shift in reality. I
was afraid to move, to inhale or exhale with any degree of force, as if that might cause the sight of Zane to dry up and crumble away.
“Assuming they survive,” Laughlin said dryly with a sniff. But he didn’t seem upset, more amused than anything.
“This is unacceptable!” Jacobs shouted, his fists clenched.
“Oh, don’t be a poor sport just because he outmaneuvered you,” Laughlin said gleefully. “Picked the boy up off the pavement, did you?” he asked St. John.
“Smart.”
“What is going on?” Melody demanded.
I ignored all of them, the din around me fading into a faint hum, as I watched Zane. His chest was moving in and out steadily, and there was no sign of the bullet wound that had seemingly killed
him.
He was here. He was alive.
The urge to see him close up, to touch him, swept over me, squeezing my chest. I lurched in Zane’s direction.
Jacobs made a grab for my elbow, but I pushed him away before he made contact, sending him stumbling and crashing into his chair under the invisible force of my mind, the very ability he’d
gifted me with.
Then I shoved at our table, swinging it neatly out of my way. The fastest route to Zane was through the U, not around it.
Chaos erupted then, with someone shouting for the guards, who piled into the room, moving around Zane like water flowing around a rock as they searched for the threat.
And still Zane didn’t react. What had they done to him?
“Stop her!” Jacobs’s shriek pierced the fog in my head.
But I didn’t need to be stopped. I halted all on my own in front of St. John’s table, two feet from Zane.
His face was pale, but his cheeks were flushed, just like Adam’s.
“Zane?” I asked, my voice hoarse and scared sounding.
He didn’t move, but his gaze flicked to mine for the barest of seconds. Any farther from him and I probably wouldn’t have seen it.
He knew his name, at least. But that appeared to be it. The look he’d given me had held no recognition or significance.
Knock, knock, knock, but nobody’s home.
My knees wobbled, weak suddenly, as a huge, wrenching sob rolled out of me, catching me by surprise before I could stop it.
Not that it mattered. The GTX guards were on me seconds later, pulling at my arms and shoulders, tugging me away.
No. I fought out of instinct, breathing hard and fast through my mouth, like an animal in attack mode. I pushed back against every hand on me, throwing them off me.
One of the men flew into Laughlin’s table, colliding with it hard and setting off a chain reaction. The glass pitcher and glasses hit the floor, and Laughlin scrambled out of the way, his
assistants following with a shriek as the table collapsed.
Then, without moving from where he stood, Zane reached out and righted the man without touching him, pulling him away from the table and the glass shards with telekinesis as naturally and easily
as if he’d been born to do it.
I froze, adrenaline thundering in my veins and air trapped in my chest.
Oh. Oh no. What had they done to him?
The GTX guards grabbed me again, but I didn’t fight this time, my mind reeling from the possible implications. Zane shouldn’t have been able to do that. What did it mean that he
could? Was the Zane I knew still in there somewhere? Or was this some new version? Someone molded and fashioned to be like me, just to prove St. John’s point?
“I think perhaps it’s best if we postpone the remainder of this meeting until it can be held without disruption,” Morpheus said with obvious disapproval.
“Wait! That’s not necessary,” Dr. Jacobs protested
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