Really, he couldn’t remember the last time any of them had talked to him civilly.

Michael was halfway to the parking lot when he realized she was following him.

He stopped short and turned to face her. “Damn it, what? You got what you wanted, okay? I’m leaving.”

She drew back, her hands up, as if he’d drawn a gun or something. “That’s not ... I wasn’t ... that’s not what I want.”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d you cry to your father about me?”

Her cheeks were faintly pink, her breathing rapid. The blond hair and fair complexion made her brother look like a freak, but it suited her. He’d say she looked like a china doll, but then she’d swung a putter at his head on Wednesday. A contradiction in terms: strong and fragile, all at the same time. Like she might cry, but she’d slug him first.

It made him want to apologize.

To her, of all people! He turned and started walking again.

Loose rocks ground against the pavement as she jogged to catch up to him.

Michael whirled before she could say anything. “I don’t know what you’re playing, but it’s not going to work. You think you can provoke me into losing control? You think I’m going to give you a reason to call the Guides? This was my place, get it? Mine. It’s a batting cage. I’m not hurting anyone.” He took a step closer to her. “So just leave me the hell alone.”

And with that, the pavement cracked and split between them.

Emily jumped back, but Michael caught it before his power caused too much damage. Just a twelve-foot crack in the parking lot, only an inch wide. Anything could have caused it, really. Rain. Weeds. Anything.

But Michael knew he’d done it. Worse, she knew he’d done it.

She was staring at him now, wide-eyed, her breathing quicker than before.

Run.

Pride wouldn’t let him do that. But he turned on his heel and made for the truck, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from tearing out of the parking lot.

CHAPTER 4

Emily was pushing her dinner around her plate again. Tyler was texting again.

Her parents were bickering again.

She kept thinking of Michael in the batting cage, the fury that carried through every swing. The conviction in his voice as he’d confronted her in the parking lot.

I’m not hurting anyone.

And then that twelve-foot crack had split the pavement.

But worse, she kept thinking of the color of his eyes in the sunlight. The moment of intimacy when all that stood between them was a few links of steel.

In a way, he reminded her of wildcats at the zoo. Mountain lions, maybe, or panthers. All sleek and dangerous, but so beautiful you’d reach out and touch if you could.

“Emily?”

She snapped her head up. Her father was staring at her, and it sounded like he’d called her name more than once. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I asked if you had any more trouble at the sports complex.”

Here was her chance. She could tell them what Michael had done. Her father would call the Guides, and they’d eradicate the problem.

But she’d provoked him.

This was my place. Mine.

If she’d poked a mountain lion with a stick and it bit her hand off, would that be her fault or the lion’s? Guilt had a hold of her gut and refused to let go. She speared a few noodles with her fork so she wouldn’t have to look at her father. “No. No trouble.”

“Good,” said Tyler, without looking up from his phone. “Seth and I were going to stake the place out if he kept pulling that shit.”

“Seth!” snapped their mother.

“He’s got a point,” said her father. “Josh Drake and I talked about doing the same thing.”

“A stakeout,” said Emily. “Really.”

Her father’s eyes were like ice. “It’s for your safety. I don’t like you going back there until this is resolved.”

She glared back at him. “I think you resolved it with your phone call.”

He didn’t back down from her tone. “It won’t be resolved until that boy is dead.”

Emily’s fork scraped across the plate. “So your plan is ... what? To sit outside the office and wait for him to show up and use his powers?”

“There are ways to make him break the deal.”

At that, Tyler looked up. He met their father’s eyes across the table.

And smiled.

Michael spent Friday night in his room, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Waiting.

When Emily reported him, how long would it take for the Guides to come after him? Would they kill him right away, or would they take him somewhere else?

Michael hoped they’d take him somewhere else. He kept thinking of his brothers, how every time they looked at him now, he knew they were just waiting for him to drop some bomb about running away.

That was nothing compared to watching an execution.

A soft knock rapped at his door just after nine. Had to be his mother; no one else in the house would knock softly.

He wanted to pretend to be asleep, but no way would she buy it this early.

“Yeah?” he called.

She cracked the door and leaned in. “Sure you’re not hungry?”

He was, but he couldn’t sit in the kitchen, look his parents in the eye, and pretend everything was fine. Even now, he couldn’t face his mother. Not knowing what he’d done.

He shook his head and kept his eyes on the ceiling.