One second he was still. The next, he was a blur, cutting the space between them with terrifying speed.
Reynold's instincts kicked in. He threw himself sideways just in time, the wind from Ted's movement brushing his coat like a blade passing too close.
Jeric stumbled back, flashlight clattering to the ground.
"Move!" Reynold shouted, hitting the floor and rolling toward the far wall.
Ted didn't stop.
He pivoted with inhuman precision, his body twisting midair, landing on his feet like a creature designed for one thing only—pursuit.
Jeric scrambled for his flashlight, breathing fast, panicked. "What the hell is wrong with him?!"
"I don't think it's him," Reynold muttered, chest heaving.
Ted stopped again.
He turned slowly, his eyes flicking between them. There was no recognition. No flicker of familiarity. Just a cold, patient hunger behind his stare.
Something else was in him.
Something not human.
Jeric raised the light and aimed it directly at Ted's face.
