“Like I care.”

His tone was a smack to the face.

But what did she expect?

She traced a fingertip over the tattoo on his forearm, something scripty and long. She recognized the symbols as Arabic or Persian or something, but she couldn’t read the language. “What’s this really say?” she said, making her voice provocative. “Something dirty?”

He smacked her hand away, as if she were a troublesome fly.

“So touchy,” she whispered mockingly.

“You don’t need to be here,” he said. “I told Silver I didn’t need you.”

“You and Silver are besties all of a sudden?”

“Let’s just say he didn’t climb in my lap to get his point across.”

Well, that stung. She sat in silence after that, letting the last bits of rain collect in her hair and chill her neck. She didn’t want to be sitting next to him now, but getting up and leaving would let him know he’d gotten to her.

After a minute, Hunter sighed, a breath full of weight, like he was going to apologize.

But he didn’t.

They sat there for the longest time, just breathing the same air, waiting for the end-of-class bell that would send students through the doors.

Maybe she was the one who owed him an apology. Or at least an explanation.

“I was never trying to play you,” she said quietly.

His posture tightened, as if he was going to snap back—but then he didn’t say anything. It gave her courage to continue.

“When I got here,” she said, “I didn’t know who you were. I was just supposed to find the Merricks and figure out how hard they’d be to kill. You were kind of like . . . a wild card.”

He didn’t say anything, but he was listening. She could feel it.

“That first day—you defended me in the school office, but then you had some issue with Calla, and then the fight with Gabriel Merrick—I couldn’t figure you out.” She paused. “I still can’t.”

“I can’t figure you out, either,” he said, his tone sharp. “I mean, you throw yourself at every guy you see—”

“I do not!”

He gave her a look.

She sat up straight and gave him one right back. “What?”

He sighed and turned his attention back to the rear door of the middle school.

Then he abruptly looked back. “What happened to your face?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You have a bruise.”

Kate put a hand to her face, and he shook his head, reaching out to touch her opposite cheek. “Here,” he said.

His hand was warm, and she was surprised how it almost made her breath catch, just that little bit of contact.

If she said something about it, he’d probably mock her. So she brushed his hand away. “Sparring with Silver.”

He made a small sound, a disbelieving sound. “Sparring, huh?”

She wanted to hit him. “How did it feel when people didn’t believe you about Calla?”

That got his attention. “This is nothing like that.”

“Really?”

His eyes were intense now, locked on hers. “Yeah. Really.”

She had a retort on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say anything, not with the way he was studying her.

“Did you really kiss Silver?” he asked.

“He kissed me.” It was nothing to blush over, but her cheeks disagreed.

“And when you jumped me on the Ferris wheel, wasn’t that an attempt to shut me up?”

“You don’t have a very high opinion of me, huh?” But her cheeks still felt hot, because his words were absolutely true.

That didn’t mean she hadn’t enjoyed their time on the Ferris wheel.

“See, there’s the difference,” said Hunter. “I never hit Calla. The only time I ever laid a hand on her was when she was trying to kill me.”

“I think you’ve got this all wrong.”

He swung his head around to look at her. “You would, wouldn’t you? I’m surprised you’re not throwing yourself at me right now, just to end the conversation.”

She snorted. “Like you’d know what to do if I did.”

He recoiled, and she regretted it immediately. But she’d needed to sting him back for everything he’d been saying, as if the only thing she could offer this mission was a little physical distraction wrapped up with a pretty smile.

That was how Silver treated her.

And how her mother had treated her.

Hunter’s shoulders were tight now, and he was peeling the label off his water bottle. He very determinedly was not looking at her.

Mocking him should have felt good. It didn’t. It felt like crap.

“I’m sorry you don’t think you can trust me,” she finally said.

He didn’t say anything. He probably could recite the label by heart he was studying it so hard.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he finally said.

That surprised her. “You trust Silver.”

Hunter looked her way. “Trust isn’t the right word. He’s the first person I’ve met in a long time who brought it back to black-and-white.”

And Hunter respected that. She could hear it in his voice. He might not like Silver, but he respected him, he respected what he was doing here.

“So you’re going to turn on the Merricks.”

“I’m not turning on anyone. They’re not on my side.”

“I watched Gabriel pull you out of the line of fire, after Silver shot you.”

Hunter didn’t say anything. Then he looked over. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m just making sure you’re not going to stab us in the back, too.”

“I’m not stabbing anyone in the back. They know what I am. God knows they question me about it enough. They’re looking out for themselves, so I need to do the same.”

“What does that mean, they’re looking out for themselves?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like.” But he’d hesitated for a moment.

Before she could question him about it, the school bells rang and the side door was flung open. Middle schoolers came pouring out.

She couldn’t believe how young they looked. Had she ever been this young? She’d been tiny when her mother first took her to that farm in Virginia. She’d been about this age when her bloodied face had been pressed into filthy straw. What was the worst thing these kids had ever encountered? Hangnail? Forgotten homework?

Hunter was trained on the door, watching as each kid came out. The courtyard filled with students, the gray sky dulling the bright jackets and backpacks. Girls laughed and giggled, boys yelled to each other about sports and games, and they were suddenly surrounded.

“We can’t just shoot him, you know,” she said.

Hunter didn’t say anything, but he gave her another look, as if to say, I’m not an idiot.

She didn’t like all these looks. They were keeping her off balance.

She didn’t like being off balance.

“You act like you’re so experienced all of a sudden,” she scoffed. “What’s your plan, then?”

He turned, put a finger to his lips, and shushed her.

Shushed her!

She wanted to cut him to his knees, but Hunter shifted on the bench, straightened a little.

Kate knew exactly who he’d spotted, because as soon as the dark-haired kid laid eyes on Hunter, he bolted.

Then Hunter bolted after him.

Kate swore and took up the chase.

The boy had an advantage. He’d been coming out of the door, so he was able to run along the school wall, while she and Hunter had to fight through a swarm of students to follow him.

The kid was fast, too, lean and lanky with a stride that ate up the grass and gave him early distance. They made it to the soccer fields behind the school, a long stretch of turf that offered no cover. For a terrifying moment, Kate wondered if this boy had cursed himself, because Silver was surely waiting somewhere, watching this whole episode, and he’d already proven he wasn’t afraid to shoot first and ask questions later.

Then she felt power and knew Hunter was pulling energy from the air, from the misting rain, from the ground under their feet. For an instant, jealousy snaked through her mind—she didn’t have anywhere near enough control to borrow so much at once—but then Hunter was surging forward to tackle the kid and bring him to the ground.

They rolled in the grass, but Hunter had him pinned by the time she got to them.

The boy was fighting like hell.

Her senses were wide open, and his fear assaulted Kate, his panic, his rage that they’d caught him so easily. It hit her so fiercely that she almost grabbed Hunter’s arm to drag him off the boy.

She knew better. She’d learned about that the hard way.

“Let me go,” the kid cried. “Let me go. They’ll know you did this. They know—”

“Stop!” said Hunter. “I just want to talk to you—”

The boy spit in his face.

Hunter swore and ducked his head to wipe his cheek on his shoulder. “Seriously?”

“You can’t stop us. There are too many, and we know where to hide.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Hunter. “You know what happened to Calla.”

“I know Calla is going to destroy you.”

Hunter froze. His shock was almost palpable. “What did you just say?”

The boy spit at him again. “Calla is going to kill you all.”

“Calla’s alive?” Kate couldn’t figure out the emotion in Hunter’s voice, as if relief and dismay were fighting to come out on top.

She knew one thing for sure: Silver was going to shit a brick. And he was probably going to blame her.

The boy was shaking, but his eyes were full of fury. “Do it. Kill me. If I disappear, you’ll just make it worse for everyone.”

“What does that mean?” said Hunter.

“The carnival was nothing. You wait. We’ll show the Guides what we can really do.”

“How many of you are there?” said Kate.

“Where’s Calla?” demanded Hunter.

“Like I’d tell you. What’s the worst you can do—kill me?”

“Break his arm,” she said to Hunter.

She meant it as a threat, as something to throw a little fear into the boy. But Hunter made a movement with his wrist, sharp and quick, and then there was a snap and the kid was screaming bloody murder.

Holy crap.

Kate couldn’t breathe. She must have lost time from the shock of it all, because now the kid was quiet. He’d passed out.

She wouldn’t mind doing the same thing. Hunter had—he’d—it was—

Then people were yelling, just there, coming across the soccer field.

A teacher was grabbing Hunter’s arm and dragging him away from the boy on the ground.

And another one grabbed her, too.

CHAPTER 22

Kate glared at the edge of the guidance counselor’s desk and wondered if she’d get in more trouble if she just pulled the knife out of her boot and stabbed Hunter right now. What a jerk.

He was glaring at Ms. Vickers, his expression somewhat exasperated. “I didn’t even hurt him.”

Ms. Vickers was glaring back at him. “He said he thought you were trying to break his arm.”

Hunter snorted. “It was a joke. I popped the joint. He passed out.” His tone clearly said, wuss.

Kate couldn’t blame the kid. She’d almost passed out herself.

Wuss.

The guidance counselor was still studying Hunter. “He said it was a joke, too.”

“Good. So I can go?”

“Not so fast.” The woman turned toward Kate. “Where do you come into play?”