KNOX’S POV
Whatever just happened to Gale — wherever he is, whatever is being done to him right now in a storage room in a shabby house where I put him — Logan FELT it. Through whatever bond they share.
My phone buzzes in my jacket. The vibration travels through the silver haze like a distant drum.
Logan hears it too.
His head snaps toward my pocket with the speed of a predator acquiring a target, and I see the calculation happen behind his wild, bloodied eyes.
Faster than thought, faster than language, the rapid-fire processing of a desperate man assembling a plan from broken pieces.
His hand moves to his pocket. The remote.
“Logan, wait—”
He presses it.
The silver DETONATES. Every thread in the restraint ignites simultaneously, and my entire nervous system goes dark like a city
