All the time they’ve spent chasing each other up into the canopy has slowed their progress, which means I have a shot at catching up. I balance myself on a big solid branch and snag a new vine, holding it as I race along, only stopping when I’m under them.

I hear boots on bark and the sound is too close for comfort. I look left, discovering that Matteo has just stepped onto my branch and there’s only about twenty feet between us. I whip my vine at him, hoping it will slow him down, but he leans out of the way and it goes sailing past him. Knowing Matteo is mere seconds behind me, I scramble onto a higher branch so fast that I give myself bark burn. Just as I get my balance, Nyx jumps from a branch above my head and I instinctively duck. But Charles is only a beat behind her, and as he lands I reach up and tap his ankle. The look of horror on his face is rather satisfying.

He snaps a twig above my head, sending down wood and leaves into my face.

I sidestep and grab a higher branch. Only, before I can get a good hold, a big hand wraps around my calf. I look down, and as we make eye contact, instead of letting go of me, Matteo yanks on my leg. My hands scrape against the bark and my stomach slams onto the branch I was standing on just moments ago. My legs flail and I desperately try to steady myself, but my momentum is too great and I tumble past Matteo, frantically grabbing on to his ankle to keep from dropping.

For a split second we stay frozen like that—me dangling from his boot and him looking down at me—before I manage to hook my legs around a vine and let go of him.

I’m so mad I want to scream, but Matteo’s already moved on, chasing after Nyx.

I steady myself with the vine, shaking from anger and exertion, and climb my way back down to the ground. If I weren’t so used to falling in trees, Matteo could have killed me back there. He probably meant to.

“Beautiful first go,” Basurto says as I land in the soft grass—only, I barely hear her compliment because I’m moving toward the end of the courtyard where Matteo will land any minute now.

I pace back and forth in the grass.

“Why is it that so many people seem to want to hurt you?” Brendan says, his voice like silk. “It must be your shining personality.”

Charles joins us and smirks.

“Whatever,” I say. I don’t get mad often, but when I do, I want to tear the world apart at the seams. I look at the burning scrapes all over my arms. Spots of blood stain my white shirt.