Forgotten Read Online Free PDF Page B

Of course he’s right. But saying it and doing it are two different things. It seems like we don’t have time, either, because in that moment the door to the cell opens again to let in one of the large men who came in with Wilson Hammond. His blond hair is buzz-cut short, his muscles bulge through his suit, and he’s wearing wraparound shades as well as black gloves that don’t really fit with the suit. Grayson half turns towards him… and then collapses to the floor unconscious as the bodyguard punches him right on the jaw.
                “Hey, what are you doing?” I demand, but in that moment he takes a swing at me too. I barely dodge it, feeling the rush of air as the punch goes past my head. I get a good look as it happens of Grayson there on the floor, completely out. I know he’s going to be fine. I know he’ll heal, but right then, that sight is enough to send fury bursting through me.
                Something in me snaps and I charge at the bodyguard. My hands are still tied behind me, and he’s far bigger than I am, far stronger. Right then that doesn’t matter. I slam my shoulder into him, and the power in me is already rushing through me hard enough that I knock him back into the opposite wall, shoving into him. He spins me around, pulling me back tight against him with gloved hands, but that doesn’t matter. If anything, it makes things easier.
                I lift my cuffed hands behind me, placing them on the shirt of the man attacking me. Grabbing hold of it so he won’t get away. I don’t want him to just stop after what he’s done. I want him dead. It’s so easy to use my power in that moment. As easy as it has been when Jack has been in danger before. So easy that it would be harder not to use it. I take that force, and it pours out of my hands into the man holding me. Before, I didn’t want to do this, but now, when he’s hurt Grayson like that… now nothing can stop me.
                The man cries out in pain as a white hot glow surrounds us both. He cries out, but he holds on, keeping a tight grip on me while his arm wraps around my throat. He makes a sound that is more animal than human, so full of pain that it’s amazing he can still stand, but he manages to start squeezing anyway.
                I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe, and he’s still squeezing, even though I’m pouring all the energy I can out of my hands. He’ll stop soon though. He’ll stop when there’s nothing left of him but ashes. The part of me that thinks that seems far too happy about it, but right then, the rest of me is busy working hard not to pass out. If I can just hold on a little longer…
                He isn’t burning. Why isn’t he burning? There’s heat there, because he’s obviously in pain, but he isn’t disintegrating. He isn’t dying. He’s even able to keep squeezing so that I fight and struggle, straining for breath. It feels like there’s far too much pressure in my head. Like I’m going to explode. I can see hints of blackness on the edges of my vision, and it’s hard to concentrate on just keeping the power going. So hard. Even harder than fighting for oxygen.
                My mind starts to drift, and I realize something feels strange about the cloth of the bodyguard’s suit where his elbow it tucked under my chin. For a fraction of a second it seems like nothing more than the random observation of a brain quickly shutting down, but then I remember what Wilson Hammond said about his company working on new materials. The suit must be made from the same stuff as the walls, meaning…
                Meaning that even if I’m hurting the man attacking me, it isn’t going to stop him. He’s protected by his suit. He won’t burn, no matter how much energy I use in doing it. I need to… need to…
                It’s too late. I gasp for air, but it’s too late. I was so certain that I