The word hit like a kiss.
Crazy.
There it was.
The thing everyone had been waiting for me to become.
I moved in a blur after that.
Not thought.
Not plan.
Just rage with hands.
The burning branch struck metal. Someone lunged. Someone missed. A flash caught, then another, firelight jumping where it should not have been, spilling wrong and fast and wild across the shiny white perfection of Brielle’s graduation gift.
The world held its breath.
Then the night exploded.
Sound punched the sky.
Heat slammed into my body and threw people backward in a screaming wave. The Bronco’s windows burst out in glittering teeth. Fire climbed like it had been waiting for permission.
For half a second, nobody moved.
Then everyone moved.
Screams ripped through the desert.
People ran. Phones dropped. Someone was crying. Someone shouted for water. Someone yelled to call 911. The music still played, stupid and cheerful under the chaos, until somebody killed it and the sudden silence made the panic sharper.
Tris hit me from the side, grabbing my jacket with both hands. “What did you do?”
I stared at the burning Bronco.
It was beautiful.
That was the worst part.
Orange flames curled around white paint, turning Brielle’s perfect car into something alive and furious. Smoke rose black into the stars. Heat washed over my face. My ears rang.
“I gave them fire,” I whispered.
Jake grabbed my other arm. “We have to go. Now.”
But I wasn’t done.
The thought was terrible.
It was also true.
Something had broken open, and behind it was every whisper, every insult, every adult who didn’t ask enough questions, every Rourke watching from a distance, every dead woman who left me to carry a name everyone spat on.
I pulled free.
“Destiny!” Tris screamed.
