Merritt startles as the chains burst out of the chair, starting to push himself up. One manages to get around his chest, though, hauling him backward - helped along by Dylan's mental slam that leaves him reeling, leaves a trickle of blood dripping from one nostril.

Before he can gather himself, he's trapped. One chain pins his upper body to the back of the chair, another holding him in at the waist like a seatbelt, and he grunts as they tighten, squeezing him enough that breathing isn't easy. Others pin down his wrists, tightening hard enough to bruise and joined by more at his elbows as he struggles to pull free; another two snake out from under the chair to secure his ankles, and they throw him farther off balance when they, too, tighten as he struggles.

"I don't," he begins, looking finally from the chains to Dylan - and then he stops. He stops struggling, face going slack in dawning realization - and no small amount of horror. He does get it, no matter how much he wants to deny that he does. "I offered to leave," he says instead of whatever he might have been going to before.