Aspen Heights, book 3: Taken

Ben

"You can have the top bunk," I grunted, gesturing at the bunk bed in front of us, not looking at Callan.
"Yeah, I really appreciate it," Callan grunted back. But he didn't look appreciative. He had this look on his face like he had just bitten into a sour slice of lemon.
"Well if you're a friend of Elita's you're a friends of mine," I said, plopping down on the bottom bed. But that was a lie. He wasn't, and would never be, my friend.
"Yeah, I am a friend of Elita's, so we should probably get something straight," he said. His voice was calm, but there was rage in his eyes. I suddenly regretted sitting down, because even standing up I was a few inches shorter than him.
"The only reason I haven't beaten you to a bloody pulp is because, quite frankly, there doesn't need to be any more drama around here. But I'll have you know, if you do anything to hurt her again... I'll hurt you ten times worse," he hissed, his muscles tightening.
He looked strong, or at least stronger than me.
"Understood?" He growled.
"I'm not afraid of you," I lied, standing up and trying to look tough.
Callan just laughed. "You should be."
I internally sighed with relief as he turned away. He wasn't gonna beat me up, or at least not right now.
"Whatever man," I said, with a wave of my hand. Then all of a sudden I noticed his neck. There was a white, slightly raised scar, just like Elita. But hadn't he said his scar was hidden or something?
"You have a scar like Elita too?" I blurted.
"What?" he snapped, whipping around to face me.
"Whatever dude, I'm going to bed," I announced, regretting having said anything. I just wanted this conversation to end.
"My neck," he murmured, lifting his hand up to touch the mark. It looked like a slightly askew square with a dot in it, like something a little kid drew.
His face lit up as he whipped his arm out in my direction. I thought he was going to slap me but his hand never came in contact with my body. Instead, an unseen force lifted me off my feet and threw me against the wall. The wind was knocked out of me, and for a moment there I was convinced I was dying. But after a few seconds, my breathing returned to a relatively normal pace, although I still had to strain under the weight of... whatever this was.
Callan grinned with satisfaction as he pinned me against the wall.
"Are you kidding me man?" I sputtered, the fear apparent in my voice. But this was no joke. This was real.
"I got powers," he said happily, ignoring me.
He finally let me fall, although he looked reluctant. If I thought I was scared before, I was mistaken. This was fear. Real, bone chilling fear. This guy could kill me any time he wanted, and I didn't stand a chance.