Quinn’s lungs were burning by the time they made it up the hill to Nick’s house. She’d been inhaling smoke the whole way, but adrenaline was kicking her ass and keeping her going.

So was Adam’s presence beside her.

With every step, she kept seeing Gareth pulling the gun and shooting Nick in the head. It made her want to turn back.

Phone, she thought. Get to a phone.

The landscaping truck was in the driveway.

Quinn almost screamed in relief. Nick’s brothers were here! They could help!

She didn’t even bother knocking, just grabbed the front doorknob and pushed through to the foyer.

Her eyes registered everything at once.

That Gareth guy wasn’t in the woods with Nick and Gabriel. He was here, right here, in the Merrick living room.

Michael and Chris were on their knees. Chris was shaking. She could hear his breathing from here.

She didn’t blame him. Gareth held a gun barrel three inches from his forehead.

“Oh, god,” she whispered.

“Come on in,” Gareth said. “If you’ve come to warn them, you’ll see you’re too late.”

Quinn couldn’t move. She wished she could tell Adam to get the hell away from the house, before he was seen.

“Your friend, too,” said the Guide. His voice sharpened. “Now. Or this one dies. Three . . . two—”

Adam shoved her through the door, keeping a hand on her shoulder. “We’re inside,” he said, his voice very careful. “We’ll do what you want.”

“I want you both to sit down,” Gareth said evenly. “We won’t be here long.”

“Please,” said Quinn. She couldn’t look away from Chris’s terrified eyes. His breathing had kicked up during Gareth’s countdown. The gun didn’t waver.

All she could think was, Becca, I’m going to watch your boyfriend die.

“Please let them go,” she said. “They haven’t hurt anyone.”

“Sit,” said Gareth.

Adam took her hand and dragged her toward the couch. She started to speak again, but he squeezed her hand so tightly that she gasped.

Then they sat in silence, listening to nothing but Chris’s fractured breathing. So long that she wondered what they were waiting for. So long that Chris’s fear began to capture her, too, until tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Hey,” said Adam softly, talking to the Guide. “He’s a kid. Why don’t you let him go and put the gun on someone else?”

“You think he’s just a child? He’s a Water Elemental. I let him go, and suddenly I have blood boiling in my veins or frozen eyeballs or anything else he can come up with. Isn’t that right, Christopher Merrick?”

Chris didn’t speak.

“He doesn’t do that,” said Michael.