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Shots fired.
“Fire,” said Tyler. “He’s trapping them with fire, too.”
“Hannah!” Michael flexed his wrists, throwing more strength into it. Almost—almost . .
“This’ll hurt,” said Tyler. “Brace yourself, Merrick.”
“What? What are—” Then Michael cried out. The handcuffs were burning, searing into his skin.
Another gunshot fired behind the house.
The cuffs snapped. Michael ignored the shouts behind him. He ran.
CHAPTER 22
As soon as he crossed the tree line, the woods turned into a war zone. The underbrush blazed with fire, creating a dense covering of smoke, hiding everyone from view. Random gunshots fired, and Michael pressed his back against a tree, getting low, trying to orient himself.
Too many people crowded the woods now, and he couldn’t get a grasp on who was an ally and who remained an enemy.
He knew Hannah was out here, though, and right this second, that’s all that mattered.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket again, and Michael jerked it free. Half a dozen messages were lit up on the preview screen.
His eyes read them each in quick succession.
Do you really think a jail cell will keep you safe? That’s funny, Michael.
As if you’d even get to a jail cell.
As if I’d let you leave this neighborhood.
Your girlfriend is adorable how she plays fireman. Maybe I should introduce myself.
Footsteps approached rapidly, sending panicked fury into the ground. Michael swore and looked up. Smoke had swirled closer to him. The fire was spreading.
His power flared without warning, drawing defenses from the earth. Before he had time to mentally process his actions, Michael had fractured a rock in one hand, and he was spinning to meet this new threat.
When a body appeared through the smoke, Michael didn’t hesitate. He threw a punch with his hand wrapped around stone. He connected and his quarry cried out. Michael hit him again, feeling the jagged edges of his stone tear into skin. The man fell. Earth and vegetation grabbed hold of the man to trap him there.
Michael dropped to pin the man’s arm with a knee, kneeling above him to hold the sharp edge of the rock to his neck.
Then Michael got a good look: Hannah’s father.
On his face was a hell of a mark. The rock had broken the skin.
Michael still felt power in the ground. Leaves and underbrush smoldered all around them. Smoke curled between them, and Michael wondered how long they had before a police officer or a Guide stumbled across them.
The fire marshal looked pissed, but his voice was low and even. “Let me up, Mike.”
Michael didn’t move. “We need to get people out of the woods.”
“Sure. I’ll get on my radio and we can clear all this up—”
“Don’t patronize me.” Desperation filled his voice, but Michael couldn’t stop it. “You don’t understand. I didn’t start these fires. I’m trying to protect people—”
“Is that what you’re doing right now?”
His voice hadn’t changed, but his words hit their mark. Michael drew a tight sigh—and realized how deeply he’d dug himself in here. He’d assaulted an officer of the law. He’d broken free of the handcuffs and run. He was twenty-three years old and already a suspect in the bombing—to say nothing of the house fires on the cul-de-sac.
