Page 171 of The Wild Charge

Enemies, probably.

The floor couldn’t hide the sound of approaching footsteps, and so he was tense and ready when the plastic crinkled aside.

It wasn’t Hunter, nor the sadistic Jax who stepped into the bluish glow of the lanterns, but the other assassin. He looked a few years younger than Jax, only a boy, really, with a scatter of freckles on his nose. His eyes were blue, too, wide and uncertain where Jax’s had been narrowed and cruel. He hedged in a few steps at a time, until the plastic finally slipped through his fingers and swung closed with a dry sound like bird wings rustling.

Reese didn’t sense a threat from him, no aura of malice.

The boy carried a paper cup in one hand, and lifted it up between them. “I’m supposed to bring you water,” he said in a quiet voice. A voice that didn’t sound like it was put to use often.

Reese’s tongue was so dry it did nothing to wet his lips when he traced them. It hurt to swallow. “Okay.”

The boy hesitated. After a beat, he pulled a knife from a sheath at his belt, and even if his stance was wary, his grip on the hilt was sure and practiced. “If you attack me…” He twirled the knife, one deft flick that spun it three-sixty and sent light flashing through the dimness. It was a warning, rather than a threat.

“I won’t,” Reese said.

The boy studied his face a long moment, searching, and then stepped forward, cup lifted. His reach was far and slow, like he was trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. The rim of the cup hit Reese’s lip, and water trickled down his chin and throat, ice-cold, making him shiver. The boy eased a little closer, though, and then it was flooding his mouth, and he had to force himself to drink in slow, measured pulls so he didn’t regurgitate it all right away.

Reese gasped when it was gone; licked stray drops off his lips as the boy withdrew to a safe distance.

Reese breathed through the tight cramping in his stomach as the cold water hit it with a shock. Slow breath in, slow breath out. He chased the last trace from the corner of his mouth with his tongue and said, “What’s your name?”

The boy’s brows lifted. He seemed shocked to have been asked a question. He hedged another step back, then another, knife glimmering down low at his thigh.

His lips compressed, whole face tight and unhappy. “I’m not supposed to say.”

“The other one, your friend, is Jax. Hunter called him that.”

The boy frowned. “He’s not my friend, he’s my brother.” Then his lips clamped tight again, brows quirking. He’d said more than he meant to.

Brother. That made sense. Reese could see the similarities between them: the blue eyes, the shape of the nose, the light hair.

“So Jax is your brother. And you are…?”

The boy sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring, as he debated internally. His face wasn’t as carefully composed as Reese’s had always been. He marveled, a bit: when he’d fought these two before, he’d glimpsed nothing but impersonal, inhuman aggression in their gazes. Flat, efficient, focused. But now, first with Jax and now with the little brother, there was so muchlifeto them. More like Tenny and less like he’d been himself, before Tenny.

Finally, glancing nervously back over his shoulder, the boy said, “I’m Grayson. Gray.” He made a face, after, like he thought he’d messed up.

Reese drew on everything he’d learned from Tenny, from his club brothers. What would Mercy do here? How would he handle things? How had Mercy handledhim, come to think of it?

“Hi, Gray,” he said, aiming for conversational and friendly. If he missed the mark, it was down to hanging from numb arms, he figured. “I’m Reese.”

The boy blinked at him, stunned. “I know,” he said. “I know who you are.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Gray darted another look at the plastic surrounding them, left then right; cocked his head as if listening for footsteps. “Okay…”

“When I was with Hunter, a long time ago, he didn’t let me talk. He always wanted me to be quiet: seen and not heard.”

He watched surprise move across the boy’s face, a complex wriggle of brows and nose; watched him try to imagine such a circumstance for himself.

“But it’s not like that with you and Jax, is it?”

After a beat, Gray shook his head. “He says…” He bit his lip, hesitating.

“It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“He says…we’re no use if we’re stupid.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Like you were.” The last was just a whisper.