At that moment he stepped down from the body now, slow but firm. His boots made a solid thump on the ground.
"That's not weakness," the man added. "That's control."
He gave Jonathan one last glance.
"It's a good thing to be able to size yourself by yourself."
He said that like he meant it. Like it came from something he'd learned long ago, Jonathan didn't shift his feet. His eyes didn't move away for a second.
He stared hard at the bald-headed man, his chest rising and falling slow but heavy. His thoughts weren't loud—they were sharp, quiet, clear.
Something isn't right, he looked down again at the dead Alphacrest soldier beneath the bald man's boots. The body was still. Too still. The kind of still that came with death. Jonathan's hand twitched once beside his leg, as if his body still hadn't accepted what his eyes were showing him.
But deep inside, Jonathan knew one thing clearly—he didn't kill that man.
