Richards left him at home.
For once the man did exactly what he'd said he would, which Neo found mildly suspicious on principle. The car eased to a stop in front of the apartment building, engine purring low while the city went about its business with its usual expensive indifference. Behind them, Kaiden stayed strapped across the back seat in blue Essence bindings, wrapped so tightly he looked less like a person than a problem someone had packed badly for shipping.
Neo cracked the door open, but his attention clung to the rearview mirror, where Kaiden's throat pulsed once beneath the black vein.
Richards caught him watching. "Go rest."
"That thing in his soul moved again," Neo said.
"I know."
"That doesn't sound comforting."
"It wasn't meant to." Richards kept both hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road. "I'll handle Kaiden. You handle Gray Hand. They won't care that your week has been strange."
