He struggles and tries to fight me off—without any real skill, but enough to be annoying. I consider using the neutralizer, but I want to be able to talk to him, to ask him where Chris is. Instead I give him a quick jab to the chin, not hard enough to really injure him, but enough to knock some sense into his stupid head.
He lets out a cry and stumbles back, clutching his face. The car lands next to us before he recovers, and I shove him inside, then climb in after him. Once the door shuts and the car takes off, I fix him with a steely gaze. “What was that about?”
He eyes me warily and rubs his face where I hit him, but doesn’t speak. His hair is messy and his brow shines with a touch of sweat, but he isn’t out of breath. My head is pounding harder than ever now, and I pop open the fridg
