I served him the drink, noticing out of the corner of my eye that he had reluctantly taken off his tie. The fury hasn't subsided; my friend is still like a beast in search of blood, eager to make heads roll.
So am I, but I need him to be the Reed we both know so well. I need him to be that calculating man, cold enough to devise plans and with admirable precision in taking the next step. Not the man lost in rage, overcome by emotions and possessed by not finding answers immediately.
And I understand. I really do understand, because, although it doesn't show, I feel as powerless as he does.
He's been threatened because he's a Reed. It's impossible for me not to take this personally when his sister is engaged to me; she will be my wife someday. She will be a Romanova, and although there's
