Matheus felt the tug as soon as the door to the theater swung shut behind him. He closed his eyes, testing the connection. The claim pulled him to the right. The longer Matheus resisted, the stronger the tug became. The sensation reminded him of the buzzing that meant Quin had gotten himself into trouble again, but softer, restrained. Matheus took a step to the left, and the tug whined, like the engine of a truck trapped in mud. Matheus thought he’d be able to ignore the tug if he wanted. On the other hand, provoking Quin didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do at the moment. Matheus followed the pull to one of the projection rooms. He knew Quin waited inside, but he still jumped as the door burst open, and Quin dragged him in by his hair.
Matheus landed on his knees, his palms slapping against the floor. He had only a split-second to process before Quin flipped him over, and grabbed his throat. He hauled Matheus upright, pinning him to the wall.
Okay, Matheus thought. He’s either going to kill me or fuck me.