Wilhelm grunts, eyes blowing wide as the Wraith yanks on his arm to pin it behind his back. Instinctively, he struggles against the hold locking him, but his assailant answers with greater force, shoving him forward against the tree. He bangs his chin on the trunk, scrapes his cheek on the bark.

"What the fuck?" Now it's not panic cresting in his voice, but confusion, indignation, and cutting through both, hurt. "Cut it out!"

Why is Erik ignoring him? Just like he did in the car, when he brushed off every one of Wilhelm's pleas to be careful and pushed the gas pedal harder and harder. When he laughed even as tears spilled down Wilhelm's cheeks, grinning right up until the moment of impact. For a moment, his mind spins trying to reconcile these two truths: Erik, both dead and alive. Nothing makes sense.

Yeah, we'll see about that, the Wraith sharply replies to Ches's protests. The unfamiliar voice crashes through Wilhelm like a cold wave, makes him jerk harder in the man's grip, because he swears it was his brother— He'd seen him crossing the field. Thrashing and twisting, he tries to get another look over his shoulder, but the hands pinioning his arms are like manacles.