“I don’t know why,” yelled Trash. “He’s fucked in the head. Who knows? All I know is I’m not going to start following some Obi-Wan Kenobi-acting motherfucker. If you do, then you’re as crazy as he is.”

They stood staring at each other and Dahlia could feel the air all around her crackling with tension. It hurt her heart. But at the same time the things the old man said sent a thrill through her, and a wattage she did not yet understand. And she wanted to understand.

She took a small step backward. “Then I guess I’m crazy.”

The pain in Trash’s eyes made them wet and glassy. “Dahlia . . . what about the Pack? What about us?”

“The Pack is mine,” she said. “They’ll do what I tell them to do.”

“Fuck they will. I’m going to tell them to pack their shit and we are so out of here.”

“No,” she snapped, “don’t you dare.”

He got up in her face. “Just watch me. You think the Pack has your back more than mine? Let’s see.”

Dahlia suddenly shoved him with both hands. She had no idea she was even going to do it until it was done. Trash was too sharp, though. He swatted her hands to one side and raised his hand to slap her hard across the face. Suddenly Slow Dog was there, pushing himself between Trash and Dahlia, puffing out his chest, pushing it against Trash.

“You want to hit someone, bro, hit me.”

A meaty hand dropped on Slow Dog’s shoulder and Nathan stepped to him. “You better settle down, hoss. You don’t want to—”

And Jumper shoved him sideways. Nathan nearly fell but Serena caught him. Trash pointed a finger at Dahlia. “This how you want it? You want to bust up your own family, D? All we been through and this is what you want?”

“I want us to survive,” she yelled. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

Trash nodded. “Oh, I get it, you think because this old fuck has some moves that he’s going to have a bigger dick and teach you to like it. Some kind of Lolita bullshit and—”

Dahlia slapped him across the face. It was a hard slap and it knocked his head to one side and tore a corner of his lip open, pulling thick beads of red from his skin. Slow Dog and Jumper flanked her, ready for what was coming, but Trash just shook his head. He touched his fingers to the cut, looking at the bright red, then reached out and wiped the finger on Dahlia’s sleeve.

“You picked your side, D. You going to have to live with how this plays out.” He pointed his fingers like a gun at the old man and dropped the hammer. “Next time I see you, motherfucker, you’re going to need more than some kung-fu bullshit.”