any misunderstanding.
In fact, it required a whole sentence.
He cleared his throat again, lowering his voice to something barely more than a whisper as he said, “I need you to make me an ability restrictor.”
And whoa, did he get hit with worry, anger, and panic.
His ears rang and his vision dimmed and he sucked in a long, deep breath as Dex jumped to his feet and told him, “I’m never making one of those again!”
Keefe wasn’t surprised.
The other ability restrictor that Dex had made was an epic disaster and had left Sophie powerless and in a whole lot of pain. Their entire group also had to flee the Lost Cities after Dex defied the Council and destroyed the gadget.
But this was different.
This new ability needed to be restricted.
And it was only a matter of time before the Council realized that and locked Keefe away somewhere.
“Please,” he whispered, keeping the word barely audible. “You can find a way to key it to my DNA, so it’ll only work on me.”
Dex shook his head so hard it made his ears jiggle. “Then the Council could have one of their Technopaths figure out a way around that. Or copy my design and build a bunch more—why do you think I threw the other one into the fire?”
His resolve felt like a wall between them.
“Please,” Keefe begged again, trying to wear Dex down with as few words as possible.
But Dex’s determination strengthened, and Keefe could tell that nothing he could say would get through.
Unless…
His heart started racing and his palms started sweating and he felt a thought start itching in the back of his brain.
No—not a thought.
A word.
A word that Keefe refused to acknowledge because he knew it was his need taking over again, and if he said the word, it would smash through Dex’s doubts and make him cooperate.
But he couldn’t shove the word out of his mind either, because the need kept reminding him that if Dex wouldn’t make him an ability restrictor, he could never see Sophie again.
He’d probably never be able to see anyone.
Those were his only options.
He had to make Dex understand.
Had to. Had to. Had to.
The command burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back, hacking and coughing as the unspoken word caught in his throat.
His instincts were screaming at him to stop resisting, but he slammed his fist into his chest, and the pain distracted him enough to make the word fade.
“Whoa, easy, boy,” Ro said, grabbing Keefe’s arm to stop him from hitting himself again. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Keefe shook his head, feeling tears pour down his cheeks as the rest of him collapsed into Ro, clinging to her as hard as he could.
“Uh, I’m not much of a hugger,” Ro warned.
But she also twisted Keefe’s head so it rested on her shoulder, away from the spikes on her armor. And mixed with her surprise and awkwardness was a tangle of anger and concern so tightly woven together that they felt almost solid.
Protective.
Which was good, because Keefe couldn’t let go.
Couldn’t move.
Could barely open his eyes—but he made himself focus on Dex, pouring the full force of his plea into his stare.
Ro whistled. “Wow, now that’s what desperation looks like.”
“It is,” Dex agreed, dragging his hands down his face so hard, his fingers left little red lines. “But you don’t understand what you’re asking for, Keefe. You weren’t there in Magnate Leto’s office when the Council made me put the ability restrictor back on Sophie. Even with the adjustments I made, I could tell it was super painful—and I don’t think I can fix that. I also can’t control which abilities it blocks. I’d have to restrict all your abilities.”
“I don’t think my boy cares,” Ro said quietly. “But you know what, Hunkyhair?” She grabbed Keefe’s shoulders and leaned him back, so he’d have to look at her. “I think you should care. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’ll always think you elves put way too much emphasis on your little ability things. But I’ve also been here long enough to see how much drama it causes if you don’t have them—and you have enough drama in your life already. Plus… you do have abilities. They’re part of you. It never goes well trying to fight who you are—trust me on that.”
Keefe jerked away and sank onto his bed, curling into a ball and wishing he could shout, THIS ISN’T WHO I AM—MY MOM CHANGED ME.
But… did she?
Or had she just activated something that had always been