He told his brain to go to hell. Those ties weren’t worth anything if they were all dead.
“You’re quiet,” said Hunter.
Michael didn’t look away from his food. “What do you want me to say, Hunter?”
“I think we should talk about what happened.”
“He’s dead. It’s over.”
Tyler stabbed a piece of broccoli with his fork. “You really think that means it’s over?”
Michael shook his head. He pushed chicken around on his plate. “They’ll send another one.”
“Should we have a plan?” said Hunter.
Michael didn’t answer that. Any plan he came up with now would be violent and vicious. He was done with hiding. He’d spent his entire life trying to hide his nature, and look where it had gotten him. He’d lost everything.
His hand almost missed the feeling of the sharpened rock he’d clutched in the woods. He shouldn’t have stopped. He should have pushed the edge all the way through that man’s body. A couple of times.
These thoughts should have scared him. They were risky—and the whole reason the Guides were a threat in the first place.
It wasn’t as if he’d never used his abilities fully before. He’d used his powers on more than one occasion to help the earth absorb a dead body into the soil, leaving no trace of a person’s death.
He’d never used his own strength and power to directly affect another man, seeking death so effectively.
He thought of what he’d said to Hunter, about how he tried to live according to what his father would have expected of him. Would his father have expected this? His parents had fought to keep him and his brothers safe from the Guides—but would they have wanted him to employ this kind of violence? Or was this exactly what they didn’t want him to do?
He had no idea. And it wasn’t like he could ask them. Hunter hit his fork against his plate. “Earth to Michael. Should we have a plan?”
“I have a plan. I’m going to get my brothers and we’re leaving.”
The room went silent. Michael could feel them looking at him.
He finally looked up. “I can’t do this anymore. We don’t have a house to live in. I don’t have a truck. We have too much history in this town. We’re too big a target.” He paused and looked at Tyler. “Maybe I should have paid attention to the signs five years ago. I don’t know.”
“This isn’t just about your family anymore,” said Tyler.
“Then you should leave, too.” Michael dropped his fork against the plate. “You should all leave.”
“Fine,” said Hunter. “I’ll go with you.”
“You can’t.” Michael refused to let guilt affect him—but it was hard to meet Hunter’s eyes. “It’s one thing to stay at the house with your mother’s permission, when she lives a few miles down the road. But I don’t have a legal claim to you, Hunter. Like it or not, you’re a minor—”
“So you’re just—you’re going to leave me here, knowing more Guides are coming—”
“I’ll talk to your mother. Explain the situation.”
Hunter shoved his chair back from the table. “Wow, that’s helpful. She moved here because she couldn’t afford to live on her own. What do you think we’re going to do—”
“What do you think I’m going to do, Hunter?” Michael was too charged with adrenaline. He couldn’t keep his voice level. “I’m not made of money, either. It’s not my responsibility to protect every single person I come in contact with.”
Hunter was glaring at him. “What about Hannah and her son? They were threatened, too—”
Michael glared back. “You think I don’t know that? Jesus, Hunter, I can’t even spend fifteen minutes with Hannah without some kind of crisis falling at my feet. In the past week, I’ve spent more time worrying about her than I’ve actually spent with her, and you think I’m not aware of what my presence here does to her family? To my family? To your family?”
“My father and my uncle were coming here to help you, and now you’re going to run, and you’re going to leave me behind.”
“Your father and your uncle never made it, Hunter.”
Hunter flinched.
Michael immediately regretted his words. He took a long breath. “Look—”
“Forget it.” Hunter didn’t look at him. He dug his keys out of his pocket and headed for the door.
For two seconds, Michael didn’t move. He watched Hunter go. He told himself it was better this way. He’d need to separate himself from everyone, and soon.
Then he found himself at the door, a hand above the dead bolt, holding it closed. “Stop. Hunter, stop.”
“Let me go.”
“No. Listen. We’ll figure something out. I won’t—”
“You won’t what? You won’t leave me to deal with this alone? Guess what. You wouldn’t be the first.”