The other cop is back on his feet and smashes into me before I can react. He slams me into the wall, pinning me with his heavy armor. My forehead bangs against the concrete, hard, and for a moment everything goes dark. Pain screams along my temple and into my skull.

Instinct starts to take over. I have to fight. I have to get away, no matter what the cost. I won’t be a victim ever again.

The cop grabs me, yanking my arms back. His big, gloved hands bite deep into my skin.

Big mistake.

Fear and anger, my oldest friends, explode inside me. A red haze clouds my eyes as I fight back against the cop. I yank my arms free and spin around. I kick. I punch. I bring the baton down, again and again and again.

“Elena, stop!” Arms wrap around my waist and pull me back. I struggle, ready to kill whoever is touching me now. But this touch doesn’t make me flinch. The familiar voice shouts my name again and breaks through my fury.

Adam.

I blink and my vision clears. Sweat and rain cling to my face and hair. Both cops are on the ground. Neither one move.

Oh my God, what have I done? I’ve killed them.

No, they’re both alive. I can see one breathing, and the other groans softly. I pray their armor has protected them from most of the damage.

Adam helps Trent to his feet, while the car pulls up beside us with Chris and Zoe in front. “Get in!” Zoe says.

We pile into the backseat. I pull my knees in close, cold and wet and horrified at what I’ve done. My arms tremble from the adrenaline still pulsing through me, and my hand hurts from gripping the baton so hard.

“Holy shit, Elena,” Chris says as we drive away.

“Just drive!” I hate that the others saw me like that. And more than that, I hate myself for hurting those cops. I only meant to get them off Trent so we could escape. But I lost control, my rage taking over, turning me into something I loathe. And Adam saw me do it.

I haven’t hurt anyone like that in years. I don’t want to be that person anymore. But what if Adam hadn’t stopped me? Would I have killed those cops? I saw the evidence at Future-Adam’s house, but a part of me still couldn’t believe I’d actually commit murder tomorrow.

Now I believe it.

I’ve tried to bury this part of myself for my entire life, but it’s in my DNA. This is who I am. A killer.

“You’re bleeding,” Adam says, reaching for my face.

“I’m fine,” I say, jerking away from his hand. My forehead might be bleeding, but I don’t feel any pain. I’m numb, inside and out.