He redoubled his struggles, wishing someone would see and help. But while a few kids were out here, they glanced at the fight and kept walking. No one said anything. No one took any action.

Hell, they probably thought he was Gabriel. And Gabriel never needed help.

The wind swirled harder. Nick tried to bite back the pain, focusing all his energy into keeping a tornado from forming. The atmosphere fought him, trying to form a funnel. His element enjoyed the rage in the air, pulling power from his pain and anger.

Tyler shook him a little, sending agony shooting through his elbow. It looked like it was snowing. Or maybe those were stars shooting through his vision.

“Turning you on?” said Tyler, his voice low and sinister. “Quinn said you were into guys.”

If anything could have broken through the pain in his arm, that was it.

Nick couldn’t think, unsure which hurt more: the searing heat in his forearm or the raging dismay of betrayal.

Quinn. Had. Told. Tyler.

He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t focus. A tornado was going to whip through here and leave a wide path of destruction, probably taking him with it. Then again, Tyler was about to burn him to ash, right here beside the fire lane.

But then someone hooked a hand around Tyler’s throat, jerking him back hard. Tyler went down harder. Nick stumbled back, losing his footing from the sudden freedom.

His first thought had been Hunter. Or Gabriel.

But Tyler was on the ground and Michael stood over him. He looked down at Tyler like he wanted to kick him in the face, but he cut a quick glance at Nick. “You all right?”

No. He was breathing through his teeth and the wind wouldn’t settle. His arm hurt like a bitch. He could smell burning fabric, on top of something sickly sweet that he didn’t want to identify. Nick fought his way out of his sweatshirt.

Mistake. He did it fast, and it took skin with it. The wound wasn’t big, but Nick felt the skin separate and peel away. Every nerve went with it. He thought he might pass out. Or throw up. Or both.

But the air was charged with his power, and it surged into the exposed skin, healing him without thought, stealing some of the pain immediately. Nick sucked a breath through his teeth and shivered. The weather no longer seemed centered on destruction, but trees creaked and groaned as the wind battered them.

Michael looked back at Tyler. “Keep your hands off my brothers.”

Tyler got to his feet and spit at him. “Fuck you, Merrick. He started it.”

“Nick.” Michael glanced at him. “Get in the truck.”

Nick looked at the fire lane. There was Michael’s truck, about six cars back. Had Michael been here the whole time? Had he heard what Tyler said?

“Go,” said Michael. “He won’t follow you.”