The chair smashed into pieces, leaving me with nothing but a leg still in my hands.

I rocked forward onto a knee and whacked Raymond in the shin with the leg, and cracked him in the knee on the comeback. I rose to my feet, hitting him once, then twice in the head.

Raymond hit the floor with a satisfying thud.

The pistol-carrying friend made a grab for his gun when I rounded on him, the chair leg hanging loosely by my side.

“Don’t,” I said.

The entire bar was silent save for Raymond groaning at my feet and the click-scratch of the old jukebox switching records behind me.

I could hear the pounding of my heart in my head, and finally I felt alive.

I pulled Raymond’s wallet from the inside pocket of my coat and tossed it toward him. It landed with a slap on his chest. His girlfriend just stared at me.

Everyone was staring at me. A toxic rush of power ran through my veins.

Sirens blared in the distance, so I hurried toward the back door, the chair leg still in my hand.

“This is the third time in a month you’ve come home looking like this.”

I ignored Anna and made my way up the stairs. She followed.

“Nick. Talk to me, damn it.”

I went into the bathroom and tried to shut the door, but she shot a foot into the doorway and pushed her way in. I groaned.

The upstairs bathroom wasn’t much bigger than the downstairs bathroom, and two people in it was one too many.

I leaned back into the vanity, propping the heels of my hands on the sink. “I ran into a doorknob,” I said. She smacked me in the side, and fresh pain chased the hit. I hunched over. “Fuck, Anna.”

“The doorknob hit you in the ribs, too?”

I turned around, giving her my back, and leaned over the sink. I suddenly felt like I might puke.

“What happened?” She shut the door, making room for herself at the side of the vanity. “Was it someone from the Branch?”

The panic in her voice made the truth race out. “No.”

She exhaled. “Thank God. I thought…” She trailed off and sighed.

Out of all of us, Anna was particularly edgy when it came to matters of the Branch. Her uncle, Will O’Brien, had created the organization to research and produce bio-weaponry, and he’d roped his family into participating in his programs in exchange for the things they needed most. For Anna’s older sister, Dani, it was help for their pill-popping father.

And later, when Anna was near death after getting shot by that very same deadbeat dad, Dani made a deal with Will to save Anna’s life. In exchange, Dani had given us all up. Sam, Cas, and me. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole thing. Dani’s deception was the reason I’d been locked in a cell in a basement for five years, getting poked and prodded like an animal. It was also how Anna found herself mixed up with the Branch. But her life had been saved, and I thought that made my being a prisoner worth it, no matter how much it had sucked.

Five years later, when Anna’s memories started to return and she realized the truth, she killed Will in a showdown, thereby destroying the head of the Branch. His second-in-command—Riley—was still out there, though. None of us would really be free until Riley was dead. We’d picked up on some leads, hoping to hunt him down and take him out, but all of them were dead ends. Wherever Riley was, he was keeping a low profile, and that worried us. He’d had plenty of time to reach out to old contacts and pull the Branch back together, provided he found the right funding.

Anna gave me a shove. “Sit so I can take a look at your injuries.” All trace of her earlier panic was gone, leaving only exasperation and a driving need to take care of something that was broken. Unfortunately, that something was me.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to.” Her jaw tensed. “Sit down.”

I closed the toilet seat and sat, feeling the ache of the fight settling into my joints. I needed painkillers. Maybe something stronger than OTC.

“Where’s Sam?” I asked.

“In town, filling the gas cans.”

“Cas?”

She bent down to fish out the first-aid kit from beneath the sink. “He went running about a half hour ago.” She unzipped the kit on the vanity top and started tearing into gauze packs. I caught her hand mid-tear, and she glared over at me.

“Stop,” I said. “Don’t waste the supplies. A rag will do.”

She frowned, but didn’t argue, and switched to a rag she dug out of the closet. She wetted it down and came over to me, hunching so we were face-to-face.

Her blond hair was braided, and it hung over her shoulder, tied off with a black rubber band. Dark shadows painted the skin beneath her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Flashbacks and old demons haunted her out of bed. I could relate. None of us really slept well, except for Cas. Cas could sleep through an air raid.

Anna cleaned the blood from my face and the open wound on the side of my eye, working with the methodic confidence of a professional, even though she wasn’t.

“Why do you keep doing this?” she mumbled.

I scowled. “Why do you keep asking?”

Another frown. It was her default expression with me.

“What’s going on, Nick? Is it more flashbacks?”

Yes.

I looked past her at the towel hanging from the towel rack. It used to be brown. Now it was a faded mud color.

I saw a flash of a girl. I kept seeing her. The same girl. And every time I did, she was shaking. No, not shaking. Trembling.