I throw myself aside.
The blade strikes the porch rail where my arm had been a second earlier. I stumble into the chair, recover, and barely get out of the way when she yanks the knife free.
“Stop!”
She swings again.
I jerk back, and my shoulder slams into the porch post hard enough to send pain down my arm.
Then a voice cuts across the yard.
“Drop it.”
Zain.
Mrs. Harlan freezes.
So do I.
He comes around the side of the cabin fast, in dark department pants and a black shirt, his expression colder than I have ever seen it.
“Drop the weapon.”
She turns toward him.
That is all he needs.
Zain closes the distance, catches her wrist, and forces the knife from her hand before she can swing again. It clatters across the porch boards. She screams and twists, but he turns her away from me and locks her arms behind her back with brutal efficiency.
The gasoline can hits the ground.
“Kaia.”
His eyes find mine.
“Are you hurt?”
“My shoulder.”
His jaw locks.
Sirens rise somewhere beyond the trees.
Mrs. Harlan starts fighting harder, but Zain barely moves.
“The cause team found signs of an intentionally set fire this afternoon. Once we had that, we started checking cameras from nearby properties.”
Her face drains of color.
“One caught you going into Kaia’s house before the fire.”
“No.”
“With the spare key.”
“No.”
“You left fourteen minutes later.”
