“So what happened to Anony—Gabriel?” Adrien said.

Greg paused. “He…your clone took his Beretta…pushed him out the plane. I picked him up later.” His eyebrows met.

Adrien said nothing and kept walking. Deep inside him, a fire flared and was secretly glad as to what had happened, but the Adrien side of him, the real side, was regretful. For a moment, the fire burrowed closer to the outside, and his eyes burned red, illuminating the alley with a strange glow.

Greg looked at him. “You okay?” he asked.

Adrien’s eyes died down, and he looked over. “You see?” he whispered. “This is what happens. I hate it. I can’t control it. I can’t stop it.”

Greg frowned and started walking again. Adrien paused, and followed along. “Do you think I’m…right?” he said.

Greg gave a mirthless laugh. “I think you’re completely ‘right.’ Now, if you didn’t hate it, that wouldn’t be right. But you’re fine.” He looked at Adrien’s unsure face. “Trust me,” he added.

“I do,” Adrien murmured.