Every instinct warned him to turn back, but Charlie's hand reached for the handle anyway.
It turned easily.
The door swung open to reveal a stark white room. In the center stood Simon, dressed in black tactical gear, his posture military-straight. His eyes fixed on Charlie with no recognition, no emotion.
"Simon?" Charlie's voice caught in his throat.
"Right on time." Another voice. Charlie recognized it from that one time he'd heard it on the phone. Reuben.
"Charlie, is it?" His smile didn't reach his eyes as he stood there dressed in an immaculate suit. As if it was just another night at the office. "Simon's little project. I've heard so much about you."
Charlie's gaze flicked between Reuben and Simon, who remained unnaturally still. The bond between them pulsed, but Simon's expression betrayed nothing. No recognition, no warmth, nothing of the man who'd kissed Charlie with such desperation just days ago.
"What did you do to him?" Charlie's fingers curled into fists.
"I reminded him of his purpose." Reuben circled behind Simon, placing a hand on his shoulder. Simon didn't even flinch. "Cleared away the confusion your entanglement created. He's himself again."
"He's not!" Charlie took a step forward. The makeshift cloth around his waist suddenly felt inadequate against the clinical chill of the room. "Simon, look at me. Really look at me."
Simon's eyes remained fixed on some point beyond Charlie's shoulder, his posture military-straight, his breathing measured and controlled. Nothing about him suggested he recognized Charlie at all.
"Simon," Reuben said, his voice gentle as if speaking to a child, "show our guest what happens to vampires who interfere with Organization business."
Simon moved.
But not with the explosive speed Charlie had witnessed in the alley behind Rosie's, but with deliberate, measured steps. His face remained expressionless as he approached, like a machine executing a program.
Charlie stood his ground even as his instincts screamed at him to run. He couldn't run now. Not from this. "Simon, I know you're in there. I can feel you." He pressed a hand to his chest, where he could still pick up the faintest hint of their bond.
Simon didn't respond. Not in words, anyway. He kept moving toward Charlie.
"Simon—"
The hunter's hand shot out, closing around Charlie's throat.
Fuck.
Charlie gasped. The pressure around his throat wasn't crushing but firm enough to make breathing difficult.
And then he was slammed back against the wall.
"There, you see?" Reuben said from across the room. "Whatever happened between you means nothing. Finish it, Simon. Let's be done with this distraction."
Simon's other hand came up to Charlie's chest, directly over his heart. Right where he would bury a stake if he were holding one. His palm pressed flat, fingers splayed. The pressure increased slowly, like Simon was calculating exactly how much force would be required to punch through Charlie's ribcage.
But he wasn't punching.
And he wasn't pulling a weapon either.
If Charlie knew anything, it was that Simon could kill him in two seconds flat if he really wanted to.
But did he want to, or was he struggling against the grip Reuben had on him?
Charlie knew how difficult it was to fight an order from one's sire. He knew that it felt like the worst thing in the world to disappoint them. But he also knew that it could be done, and ifCharliecould do it, so could Simon.
"You don't have to do this," Charlie whispered, too quietly for Reuben to hear. "You can fight him."
Simon's fingers tightened fractionally on Charlie's throat, but his eyes flickered with the briefest flash of something human.
