I moved through the parked cars like a ghost with teeth.
A key appeared in my hand. Mine? Someone’s? I didn’t know. I dragged it along the side of a glossy black truck and laughed when the sound shrieked louder than the people. Abottle shattered near my feet. Alcohol splashed dark across dirt and rubber and chrome. Someone tried to stop me, then stumbled back when I turned on them with fire in my eyes and nothing left to lose.
“They wanted trash?” I screamed. “They wanted biker trash?”
Faces blurred.
Brielle sobbed near the fire, Carter holding her back as if I was the monster.
Maybe I was.
Maybe I had always been.
“They wanted a fucking desert fire,” I shouted, voice tearing out of me. “I’ll give them hell.”
Another match flared.
Then another.
Not clean. Not controlled. Nothing like the movies. Fire didn’t obey me. It jumped wrong, caught where I didn’t expect, died where I wanted it to burn, then roared up somewhere else like it had its own plans and I was just the idiot who opened the door.
The party became smoke, screams, headlights, and running bodies.
Tris was crying now. I could hear her.
“Jake, do something!”
“I’m trying!”
Hands caught me from behind, strong around my waist. Jake dragged me back, boots scraping dirt.
I fought him like a wild thing.
“Let me go!”
“No,” he snarled in my ear. “You’re going to prison!”
That word sliced through the haze.
Prison.
For one second, I saw it.
Not fire.
Not revenge.
Consequences.
Edge’s face when the cops called.
Regan’s voice breaking.
Tarak looking at me like Mandy had finally won.
The haze flickered.
My stomach dropped.
