A fate worse than death was watching Remington Quinn, a man made of steel and always smart and clever, going down from a blow to the head. Watching him be flung onto a cart with a dozen others, every one of them bleeding and woozy and fuming, spitting at their captors and shouting insults. Nathaniel climbed on quietly, sitting beside Remy and curling up into a ball. The men thought that he looked strong, but Nathaniel knew that he wasn't. Remy was strong. But Remy was unconscious.
When his friend finally came round, Nathaniel held his breath, hoping that maybe a brilliant plan had some to Remy like it did sometimes for Nathaniel. But no luck. "I'm too tired to do anything," he said softly, biting his thumb worriedly. "Once I took away a woman's eyes and I don't want to do that again." He couldn't hurt Remington like that. "But I'll keep you safe, Remy. Somehow I'm going to."