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  "I can help you with that."

  "Oh, Scott. You're in the same situation I am. I thought you would be more supportive."

  "It's dangerous."

  "More dangerous than turning myself over to Miranda? More dangerous than fighting a rampaging mutant Alt? More dangerous than getting shot at?"

  "That was different."

  "No, it wasn't."

  "Hannah -- "

  She cut him off. "Don't. Just don't. I made a decision. You might not like it, but you will respect it."

  They both stared at each other. She could see he wasn't about to change his mind and she wasn't going to back down. Not on this, the first decision she'd made for herself without seeking permission from the Blackwoods. She was ready for a change, no matter the danger.

  "I respect you, Hannah, but this is a mistake. There are other ways to find your freedom."

  "It might be a mistake, but it's my mistake to make."

  She could see his eyes narrow. Those storm-gray eyes she usually found comfort in. If he were standing in front of her, her determination might have weakened. Maybe not being near Scott wasn't a bad idea. He was not about to change his mind and she was not going to back down.

  "I think we're done for the evening." Before he could argue, she pulled off the headset and ended the chat. The abrupt change created a vacuum in her heart before all her pain and anger rushed in to fill the void.

  As if he were listening in, Eight-ball appeared at the corner of the couch. Hannah patted her lap and the all-black cat jumped on command. He rubbed her chin with his face. Hannah pulled the cat closer, her fingers finding the sweet spot behind his ears.

  "Oh, Eight-ball. Today was so horrible."

  Eight-ball started to purr, the loud rhythm bringing back her tears. "I hate my life right now. Everyone wants to lock me up to keep me safe. I won't let them."

  Eight-ball continued to pace on her lap, his tail flicking her chin.

  "Now Scott is pissed at me and I just want to go to bed. What do you say we go upstairs and forget today ever happened?"

  Eight-ball allowed her to scoop him up into her arms and march upstairs.

  Wind from the sea whipped Hannah's hair into a tornado twirl as she watched the cargo ship dock at the port on the south end of Thunder City's harbor. Scott was here, somewhere. She knew, though he never said anything about it when he texted her during breakfast. He didn't have to say anything, but she knew. His unrelenting need to protect her had calmed her raw soul when they were on board the Elusive Lady, but ever since she’d started spending time with McNamara, she found his caution irritating. He cared, she cared, but some things had to be risked or she'd never achieve the freedom she craved.

  The Committee didn't want her here either, but at least McNamara had smoothed over those ruffled feathers for her. He was the only one who understood what she was going through. Somehow he managed to break through the logjam of everyone else’s concern for her safety and give her a space to call her own. Her confused feelings of wanting her own life and wanting to make her own decisions didn't bother him in the least. He let her work out for herself what she thought was best.

  Not that she didn't have her own doubts. She'd gotten very little sleep last night, her thoughts weaving around her feelings for Scott, anger at his overprotectiveness, and anguish about how much she cared for him despite their spat. If Eight-ball hadn't leapt into bed with her and purred in her ear, she might not have gotten any sleep at all.

  The boom of a lowered plank echoed, followed by the grind of motors as cranes swung around, prepared to lift the containers of evidence off the ship. McNamara had let her listen in on a number of phone calls he'd made to work out the last minute details. The remains of Joe Austin took up at least three containers. McNamara speed-read the numerous forms and contracts he had to sign, promising everything short of his first born to keep Star Haven in the loop about every aspect of his investigation. She didn't even think he had kids. At least, he hadn't mentioned any to her. They'd both been pretty quiet after he picked her up this morning to bring her to the harbor. The rest of the Blackwoods had already left for the morning.

  The last time she'd seen Joe Austin, he’d had her in his meaty grip, King Kong style. She'd been so small he hadn't managed to crush her bones, but he’d still managed enough pressure to bruise her up something fierce. Miranda hadn't just destroyed his body. She'd destroyed his mind. Hell-bent on killing everyone in his way, Joe had intended to slam her onto the quarry floor before continuing on his path of destruction. Before he could, Hannah had bloodsurfed through his head and blown up his brain from the inside.

  She would have to testify to what she had done, but saying it out loud was different than actually seeing it. Once McNamara began his examination of Joe, the world would see her not as a healer, but as a destroyer, too. She understood how people thought, and she knew that there were those who would use her as a weapon. It was inevitable that there would be more Mirandas out there.

  The face of Doctor Johnson interrupted her thoughts. Yeah, he was a Miranda wannabe, but she knew how to handle the Mirandas in her life. She'd make sure he regretted trying to cage her.

  The longshoremen, with the assistance of a few Alts, used cranes to haul the normal-sized containers off the ship. Rumble and Roar flew above the ship. The twins created an air cushion under the extra-large container carrying Joe. The cushion grew in size until the oversized container floated in mid-air.

  Despite the hostility toward Alts from Star Haven, T-CASS hadn't bothered hiding their presence. Their colorful outfits were bright and obvious in the harsh sun. Rumble and Roar made quite a show for the Star Haven crew, working in tandem with their Norm counterparts. Thunder City police patrolled along the harbor boardwalk. Out on Mystic Bay, police boats zigzagged across the Bay. TV crews also lined the boardwalk, their cameras capturing everything from a distance, including her. Especially her.

  There were other Alts around, she was sure, not in uniform, but still ready to jump if even the slightest problem arose. Thomas would have his equipment set-up nearby as well, monitoring all of the electronic surveillance he'd put in place over the past week.

  Hannah moved closer to McNamara, grateful when he looked down at her, but didn't comment. In her heart, she wished Scott stood beside her, despite their argument last night. Where was he? So far she hadn't seen him, but given his wardrobe of t-shirts and jeans, he didn't stand out like his family when they were in uniform. Had he managed to make it past the Thunder City security? She hoped he hadn't picked a fight with them. Maybe he'd sneaked in from somewhere? Had he told anyone what he'd planned to do? Warned his brothers, at least?

  No, of course he wouldn't. If something did go wrong, no one else would know he was here, but Scott wouldn't care about that. He only cared about her.

  There was nothing she could do about it now. While Thunder City took care of removing the cargo from the ship, the Star Haven delegation disembarked. She recognized the interim Mayor, who had been the Attorney General until Miranda died. He led a tight group of men and women, all of whom looked like they'd rather be elsewhere. One of the men scanned the crowd until his dark eyes locked with Hannah's. A shiver ran up Hannah's spine. He motioned for Hannah to meet him closer to the edge of the boardwalk, away from the small crowd.

  Hannah hesitated. Don't be an idiot. Star Haven may want all Alts dead, but they're not going to do it in front of the world. It's not just Thunder City watching. The whole state is watching.

  She closed her eyes for moment and remembered Scott holding her tight right after he killed Miranda. The thought gave her courage. If there was one thing Scott had in spades, it was courage. Shoving her gloved hands into her jean pockets, Hannah noticed McNamara watching her again, even as another Star Haven official addressed him. Hannah ignored it all and broke away from the crowd. The man led her over to one of the larger pylons near the docked ship.

  He didn't spare any words, but had to shout over the grinding o
f the machinery. "I'm Detective Juan Costenaro. The Mayor asked me to give this to you."

  He shoved a small cardboard box at Hannah, forcing her to pull her hands out of her pockets to accept the box. His name sounded familiar. Maybe she'd met him at one of Miranda Dane's functions? His sharp cheekbones, wavy hair, and smooth complexion would have had her admiring him if she wasn't so damn scared.

  "What's in it?" Her voice choked on the words. Calm down. Just stay calm. You'll get through this.

  "Roger Dane's ashes." He bowed his head toward her a little, offering a hint of sympathy. "No one else wants them and you're his only living heir."

  Stomach acid flushed her throat, burning, hurting. Roger, her stepfather, who had been shot to death by one of Miranda's thugs. Hannah's fingers flexed as if scorched, but the detective shoved a tablet at her. "I need you to sign at the bottom."

  "Who told you to cremate him?"

  Detective Costenaro shrugged. "I'm not a lawyer, just a cop doing his job."

  Hannah tried to read the fine print on the screen, but she couldn't see through her grief. "That's it? Just his ashes? Roger Dane was worth millions. He had an art collection. A sailboat." He had me. He loved me. Hannah lost her voice with that last thought. What should she do? What else could she do? She couldn't recognize her own signature, but it was the best she could do with the gloves.

  Costenaro snatched back the tablet. "Whatever he had, someone else has it now. I'll need an email address for the receipt."

  The only email Hannah had was the one she used for school. She hadn't accessed it in over six months, but her brain kicked in with an automatic recitation of the letters. Costenaro typed out the information then tucked the tablet into his back pocket.

  Instead of walking back to the delegation, Costenaro crossed his arms and stayed put, forcing Hannah to do the same.

  "The news says you and Scott are a couple."

  Why would a Star Haven detective care? Since the news speculated about it anyway, she couldn't think of a reason to deny it.

  "Yeah. So what?"

  "He's — was my partner. I don't know what you did to him, to make him an Alt, but he doesn't deserve this."

  He doesn't deserve you. Costenaro didn't say it, but she heard him loud and clear anyway.

  "I didn't make him an Alt. He already was an Alt, he just didn't know it. All I did was — "

  The sharp crack in the background sounded all too familiar to Hannah.

  "Gun!" Costenaro yelled.

  It must have been instinct that caused the man to shove Hannah behind him as he pulled his own gun, because why would a Star Haven cop, Scott's former partner, who thought she had turned Scott into an Alt, care if she died?

  "Stay behind me," he shouted at her again as he started to move south of the crowd, toward the media and away from the ship.

  She did exactly as he said because chaos had broken out around her. Costenaro kept close even as the Thunder City police corralled the Thunder City delegation and dragged them off the boardwalk toward the warehouse. Star Haven security did their best for the Star Haven side, corralling their delegates as best they could as their people rushed toward the ship. Costenaro grabbed her hand. He might hate Alts, but he still kept himself between her and the sound of the gunshot as he led her back toward the Thunder City delegates. Back to McNamara.

  "Go!" Costenaro shoved her into McNamara's arms. "Get out of here."

  "Wait." She tried to keep her grip on Costenaro. "I don't know where Scott is. He's here somewhere."

  "Scott can take care of himself." Costenaro let go and ran for the ship.

  McNamara gripped her arm and pulled her in the opposite direction, toward the warehouse where there were steps leading to the parking lot. "We need to — "

  The explosion knocked her into McNamara, with the people behind her falling onto her. Black smoke blanketed the air. Piercing screams rose in pitch. People shoved at her, scrambling to get away.

  McNamara had wrapped his arms around her as they fell over. In the background, an all too familiar sound pounded out a rhythm.

  Automatic gunfire. Scott had been right. The anti-Alts were going to shoot them all. She should have listened to him.

  10

  Even from the fourth floor of the warehouse, Scott couldn't escape the waves of tension riding the Bay breeze as the ramp from the cargo ship hit the dock. From the observation deck attached to a bank of admin offices, he had a near-perfect view of the dock and the ship at the southern end of the boardwalk. The construction scaffolding on the north side would hide him from the view of the police and T-CASS patrolling the area — if he didn't do anything stupid.

  The handguns he'd strapped under his windbreaker wouldn't do him much good from up here, but there was no way he would risk bringing a rifle to the harbor, even if the Blackwoods owned one. The Thunder City police had refused him entry to the boardwalk, daring him to use his Alt ability and give them an excuse to arrest him. He wasn't a cop anymore, but he wasn't a member of T-CASS yet. His only protection came from his frayed family ties. It had taken no small amount of subterfuge for him to get this close to the action without getting arrested.

  From the edge of the boardwalk, Scott could easily pick out Hannah with her hair blowing in the breeze. She stood among the dignitaries waiting to receive the dead. McNamara stood next her, his own red hair standing out in the crowd. Occasionally, McNamara would lean down to talk to Hannah, or just look at her. The more Scott watched, the more he didn't like it. In such a short time, the doctor had become her confidant.

  Did she tell McNamara things she didn't want to tell Scott? Or couldn’t tell him? It made their spat even worse. His jealousy returned. He recognized the ugly emotion after having grown up with it. He’d been jealous of his brothers for having Alt powers when he didn't. Jealous of the attention they got from their mother, when she couldn't even look at him. Jealous of their father, Demitrios Economopoulos, alive and healthy and wanting to be with them when all Scott had was a single picture of his own biological dad.

  He tried to put his emotions in their place. Resenting Hannah's relationship with McNamara was stupid. The man could guide her career in a way Catherine couldn't. Maybe even guide her away from T-CASS. Wouldn't that stick in Thunder City's craw. It would be no small amount of self-satisfaction for both of them to make it appear as if the Committee's bullies had driven her away.

  She wouldn't do that, though, no matter how much McNamara influenced her, Scott was sure. He was the petty one, gathering his grievances and holding onto to them like old friends. Hannah had a much more mature outlook on her life. He needed her to keep him grounded, keep him from doing something stupid.

  If he could just get past his distrust of McNamara.

  Scott continued to watch Hannah while the first representatives from Star Haven filed off the boat. His focus lasered on her, until a movement to his right caught him off guard. The Shield, carrying his rifle, stepped out onto a second observation deck. No one below could see him, only Scott.

  Getting into position to fire, the Shield gave Scott a glimpse of familiar sunglasses.

  "What are you doing here?" Scott called.

  If the Shield was surprised to see Scott, he didn't look it. "My job."

  "You think someone is going to attack McNamara? Here? In front of news cameras and the Star Haven dignitaries? With most of T-CASS around to stop them?" It would be a stupid move, but one not unheard of, for the anti-Alt organizations.

  "I know they are. Why don't you?"

  The Shield turned away from Scott to look at the boardwalk. Did he see McNamara? Or, did he see what Scott saw? Hannah moving away from the Thunder City delegation toward the edge of the boardwalk following a man from the Star Haven side. Scott almost choked. He recognized the man's swagger, his uniform. It was Juan, his partner. His ex-partner.

  "Why don't I what?" Scott asked, but he was no longer watching the Shield. He watched Juan talk to Hannah, then shove a box into her hands. />
  "Why don't you know that the anti-Alt movement doesn't give a shit about dead bodies from the quarry raid? All they care about is dead Alts. This is a prime opportunity to take out Alts and traitors at the same time."

  Scott kept watching Juan and Hannah. The Shield said exactly what Scott had been saying, but no one would listen to him. Hannah wouldn't listen to him. The Shield believed what Scott believed. "I know that. How do you know that?"

  "It's my job to know. It's your job, too, if you're going to be of any use in this war."

  Hannah in danger crowded out the demand to repeat the question he'd been asking since the beginning: what war? "It's fine to know it, but if no one believes you what good does knowing it do?"

  "It's also your job to make people listen, even if they don't want to, by any means necessary."

  Threats. This guy was all about threats and violence. "So you're here to protect Hannah, not McNamara?"

  The Shield raised the rifle to fire. "No. I'm here to protect McNamara. If that means killing your girlfriend to make him less of a target, so be it."

  Cold instinct overrode Scott's panic. Even if he wanted to believe Juan would protect Hannah despite being an Alt, there was no way in hell he would stand by and let the Shield shoot her.

  Without a second's delay, Scott knew he didn't just want that rifle, he needed it and he needed it now, before the would-be assassin killed Hannah. He wanted it like nothing else he'd wanted in his life, other than Hannah. Scott locked onto his desire for the rifle and yanked.

  The rifle disappeared from the Shield's hands and appeared in Scott's. Scott swung it into position, ready to fire. The Shield looked at his empty hands before he saw Scott with his gun pointed at him.

  Give me a reason, you son-of-a-bitch. Just give me a reason to fire.