The drive back to Gwenreen City was fueled by a manic, desperate energy. Malcolm Ford sat in the back of the armored car, his hands trembling with a physiological rejection of the silver essence that was now humming a low, seductive tune in his ears. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the curve of Luca's waist; every time he breathed, he smelled the ozone of the Enigma.
"He's in my head, Marcus," Malcolm hissed, his voice a jagged edge. "He's rewriting my thoughts. It's him. It's Lukas. He's a parasite, and today, I'm cutting him out."
Marcus gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. "Sir, please reconsider the approach. You saw what happened at the hangar. You hit him with enough thermal energy to melt steel and he didn't even blink. He's an Enigma. They aren't bound by the same physical laws we are. If you go in there with a blade..."
