CHAPTER 17

Gabriel sat beside Hunter in the front of his jeep, eating a Big Mac and wondering how he was going to go home looking like this. He couldn’t even walk into a store. If the cops and firemen were looking for an arsonist, a kid walking around with burned clothes might draw a little attention.

“So we need to bring a change of clothes,” said Hunter.

Gabriel gave him a look. “You think?”

“You said they got a good look at you?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t know. I had the helmet on. There was a lot of smoke.”

But he’d bet good money they’d figure it out.

“Did you delete the text I sent you?”

Gabriel nodded. “I’m not an idiot.”

He wondered if Hannah would put it together that he’d run out of the house on the same night a stranger showed up at a fire. She hadn’t come to their house suspecting him of arson—she’d just been looking for information.

Right?

He set half the burger on the wrapper. “I need to tell you something.”

Hunter was eating a grilled chicken sandwich. He didn’t even look over. “This is so sudden.”

“Shut up. They think someone is starting these fires.”

Hunter shrugged. “An arsonist. I know.”

Gabriel blinked. “You do?”

“Sure. It was in the paper. My grandfather mentioned it at dinner. Something about that guy at school having his house targeted.”

Gabriel picked up his soda and took a sip. “He’s a tool.”

Hunter looked over. “You regret pulling his little sister out of that fire?”

“No.” Gabriel hesitated. “I need to tell you something else.”

“Shoot.”

Gabriel told him about the night he’d started the fire in the woods, how he’d lost control. He told him about Hannah, how she’d come to the house tonight, fishing for information.

Hunter didn’t say anything when he was done, just polished off the rest of his sandwich and shoved the wrapper into the bag.

“I couldn’t control it tonight,” said Gabriel. “There was too much. I lost it. That guy could have died.”

“That guy would have died.” Hunter started the ignition. “If we hadn’t been there, he still would have fallen through the ceiling, and he still would have broken his leg, but he would have been dead before anyone could get to him—not to mention the rest of them. You want to stop?”

Gabriel hesitated. He did—and he didn’t. It was addictive, drowning in fire every night.

And it was helping his control. He was getting stronger; he could feel it. But he eventually would kill someone if he couldn’t manage his element better than this. He was going to get caught.

He looked out the window. “I don’t know,” he ground out.