They took off at a run. Vines crawled across the dirt after them until they reached a clear patch of land. Addison—his daughter—knelt in the dirt, her hands beneath the surface. From the dark hair that hung in tangled waves down her back to the freckles scattered across her skin to the gentle way she turned the soil in her hands, she was every bit him and Irene and so much more. How hadn’t he seen it before?

She looked up at him, the whites of her eyes pale moons in the gloom. Kaden was no empath, but he saw desperation in her—his mother had always been an expert at cultivating it.

“Addison.” He nearly choked on her name.

Nate stepped in front of her, right in Kaden’s path. At the sight of his brother, rage spotted Kaden’s vision.

“What are you doing here?” Addison asked Kaden.

“Saving you,” Quinn said, appearing beside him.

Addison pushed herself up from the dirt. “I thought you were on my side.”

Maura held out a hand. “Come here.”

“I’m fine where I am,” she said.

“I’m sure we can sort this all out,” Sylvia said. “Addison asked me to help her fix the garden. She seemed to think the rest of you weren’t up to the task, but it’s good that you’re here.”

Her smile felt like a knife in Kaden’s heart.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing—or what you’ve done since that summer—but I’m not letting you hurt my daughter,” Irene said, as the cicadas took up her song. She clenched her fists.

Nate took a step back.

Taylor stepped up behind Irene. She’d rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, and she bounced on the balls of her feet. “You son of a bitch,” she said. “You murdered my husband.”

Nate’s eyes widened a fraction, and he glanced at Sylvia. “I did what?”

Kaden felt no remorse as he looked his brother in the eye and said, “It’s time you forget how to use our family’s magic.” Nate clapped a hand over his mouth, but not before darkness poured from his lips and went up into the gloom.

“How does it feel?” Taylor said, baring her teeth. “Knowing you’re going to have to pay for what you did to my family? To my husband? My daughter? To me?”

“What are you talking about?” Addison said.

“I was right,” Quinn said. “The Bonners murdered my father.”

Addison shook her head. “That’s not possible. They wouldn’t.” She looked at Sylvia, and Kaden followed her gaze.

His mother stood watching him impassively, almost resigned. There was so much he wanted to say, so much guilt he wanted to make her feel, but every second he waited was a chance that she’d beat him to the punch.

“You lied to me,” he said.