“He should do it now,” said Quinn. Her voice was thick with tears, but strong. “If you’re going to go out, Chris, you should do it with a bang.”

Chris shook his head, just a fraction, just enough.

“He knows,” Gareth said, “I’m supposed to witness evidence of destructive abilities before I kill him. Nicholas and Gabriel demonstrated that last night. You two, however . . .”

“Then let us go,” said Michael. “We’re not going to demonstrate anything.”

“I bet I can make you show a little something,” said Gareth.

He cocked the hammer and pointed the gun lower.

“No!” she screamed.

She didn’t know what she expected. Maybe some kind of Elemental show. But Michael moved, shoving Chris hard, pushing him to the ground, shielding him with his body. The gun fired.

The bullet missed Chris, but Michael cried out. Blood bloomed on his shirt. A lot.

But at least it wasn’t his head.

The Guide aimed again.

Quinn didn’t think. She flew off the couch. Her hands slammed into Gareth.

For the first time, she was glad she wasn’t one of those stick-thin twigs who lived on lettuce and water. He wasn’t a big guy, and she had the element of surprise. She hit him with the full force of her rage, and he went down.

But damn he was strong. She tried to go for his gun, but he was faster.

Then Adam was there, adding his strength to hers, pinning Gareth’s arm, trying to pry the gun from his fingers.

They were going to get the gun. And she was going to shoot this f**ker in the forehead and see how he felt about it.

But she’d forgotten Gareth wasn’t an ordinary human, limited to finite things like strength and leverage.

Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. At first she kept fighting, trying to get the gun anyway. But black spots danced in her vision.

Her muscles started to cramp. Her fingers couldn’t grasp at the steel.

Adam was suffering the same thing.

She had to let go of the gun. The Guide shoved her to the side. He freed himself from their weight and stood. He aimed at Michael.

Quinn needed to move.

She needed to stop this. She needed to stop this.

She couldn’t.

She was going to see two people get shot in the head on the same day.

Only she didn’t think Michael was going to be able to stop this one.

The gun was in Gareth’s hand.

He cocked the hammer.

The sound of the gunfire made her jump. Tears sprang to her eyes again.

But Michael was still staring, still bleeding, still covering his younger brother.

The Guide was on the ground.

Quinn stared. Her brain couldn’t make sense of it.

Gareth was quickly creating his own blossom of red on the beige carpeting of the Merrick living room. He’d been shot in the head.

And Tyler was standing in the doorway, a gun in his hand.

“There,” he said, sounding like he was panting. “Now I don’t owe you anything anymore.”

CHAPTER 33

For the second time that day, Nick sat with Adam on the concrete step of his patio.

Now, the sun was nearing the horizon, and Quinn was in Adam’s bathroom, taking a shower.

Six inches of space separated Nick from Adam.

It felt like a mile. They’d been sitting in silence for a while.

“Are you okay with everything?” Nick finally asked.

“I’m not sure okay is the right word.” He rubbed at his jaw.

“It’s a lot. I watched someone die today.” He paused. “More than once. And very . . .” He shook his head. “Very violently.”

Nick nodded.

“Your brothers. They’ll all heal?” Adam said. “Just like—like you did?”

Another nod.

Adam’s eyes flicked over, dark and shadowed in the moon-light. “Your brother Michael can . . . get rid of the bodies?”

“Yeah.” Nick didn’t correct him to body, singular. He hadn’t told Adam exactly what had happened to the Guide in the woods. He wasn’t quite ready to deal with that himself. Nick still had no idea who she was or where she’d come from.

Or if there were more out there.

Hunter and Becca had brought her dad, Bill Chandler, back to the house when they’d called to tell them what had happened.

Bill had looked at Gareth’s body and had said to Michael,

“You all killed Gareth Brody. You might not have wanted a war, kid, but I think you just started one.”

Adam studied Nick in the darkness, his eyes full of wary uncertainty. Nick wondered if this was the wtf coming home to set up shop.

Adam frowned. “And the studio . . . if the police come knocking, you expect me to tell them we left before anything happened? That we had no idea?” His voice was level, even.

Nick shifted on the step to look at him. “I don’t expect you to do anything, Adam. You don’t need to keep my secrets.” He sighed, resigned. “I know what I am. I know what happened. If you want to tell the cops everything, I can’t stop you.”

Adam nodded.

And that could mean anything.

“Okay,” Nick said softly. “I don’t want—” He hesitated. “I’ll leave.”

He waited for Adam to protest. Adam didn’t.

Nick stood and opened the sliding door. His voice was rough now. This was a thousand times worse than when they’d been caught by Hunter. “Thanks for taking care of Quinn,” he said.