But he was sitting here judging the Merricks for something he struggled with himself. That was the worst kind of hypocrisy, right? Hating someone for something you hated about yourself?

I never hurt anyone with this.

Did he really believe that? He’d burned her arm. He’d brutalized the Merricks—she knew that from Nick. Hell, he’d gone after Becca more than once.

Or did he think that was okay because his sister had died? That because he hadn’t killed anyone, he somehow got a free pass?

Quinn pulled the sweatpants up her legs and walked into the kitchen.

“I’ll keep your secret,” she said quietly. “You were right. I was angry—I didn’t want—I don’t—”

Then her mother’s anger and violence overtook her, and Quinn started crying.

Tyler folded her into his arms and sighed against her hair. “What a crazy, fucked-up night.”

She laughed through her tears, sniffling against his shoulder. “Tell me about it.” She hesitated. “Do you really think there’s a Guide in town?”

He took a long breath. “There have been a lot of fires. I’d be more surprised if there’s not a Guide in town.”

“And they’d kill you for saving me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He paused. “Did Merrick ever tell you what really happened at that carnival last week?”

She nodded against his chest. “Some of it. A girl named Calla Dean was trying to bring the Guides here. She wanted to start a war.”

Tyler drew back to look at her. “Calla Dean? I don’t know her. Her family wasn’t part of the original deal with the Merricks.”

Quinn swiped remnants of tears from her eyes. “You might not ever know her. She disappeared after the carnival. Nick said they don’t know if she was killed or if she ran. But there haven’t been any further arson attacks, so . . .”

She drifted into silence, letting the rest remain unsaid. Calla might not be dead, but she hadn’t made a reappearance in town. Maybe she’d moved on to start her war somewhere else.

Tyler held her for the longest time, but when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but your mother—”

Quinn started to pull away. “You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you going to hide here forever?”

His voice was gentle, but it made her cry again. “I don’t know what to do. Would they arrest her? What would happen to me and Jordan?”

“I don’t know. But . . .” He paused. “She could have really hurt you, Quinn. Jesus, she did really hurt you. If she’d hit you a second time—”

“I’m not calling the cops. I’m not. If you want me to leave, fine. But I’m not—”