And that was somehow worse than the biting anger Ghastly heard in Wreath's words even from outside the Hotel. That was the tone of someone who cared, however much they didn't want to, however much they hated the fact that they did.

This was the tone of a man who'd already given up. The tone of a man who'd been drained of all fight, who didn't see a point anymore. Asking for something phrased in a way that only had effect when it was demanded. Almost the same tone the ex-Necromancer used when he claimed that Skulduggery himself said Vile was inevitable.

Wreath might have already given up, which was dangerous enough for someone trying to escape Necromancy's clutches, and he was looking for a way out. Defeated, and trying to leave the room. The last time Ghastly let that happen without a fight, the person who left the room went on to go slaughter millions.

Ghastly hadn't moved from his spot, nor did he intend to. He did, however, unfold his arms and straighten up. "You shouldn't be going anywhere alone, Solomon. You're a target. Let someone go with you, at least."

Dex had been Wreath's bodyguard all morning, but Ghastly would volunteer this time. He was not going to make the same mistake twice.