Fury and Flame | 3

2 | 8

J A X O N

      I hated it here. I hated this big, empty house. I hated my father's judgmental looks. I hated the constant reminders that my brothers were everything my parents wanted and I wasn't.

     As soon as I got old enough to be aware of the fact that I was different from my family—that I didn't quite belong, I'd wanted to get out of here. And now, after everything, I was back.

      I'd barely slept last night. After tossing and turning in a bed that no longer felt like my own, I spent the rest of the early morning hours in my workshop, a connecting room I'd made for myself. Among my various tools—tools I'd had to buy myself when my parents didn't approve of my inventing—and the smell of oil and metal was where I thrived.

     By the time the sun rose, I'd built Kane a new spear. All the others opted to fight with either standard weapons, their powers or their bare hands, so I figured the strongman was the only one who'd need a specially-made weapon. And specially-made it was, with six feet of bone-breaking metal and able to break in half to form two separate parts with points on one end.

      I smiled faintly as I admired the way it shone in the light. It was perfect. But I'd have to give it to him covertly; creating weapons would certainly qualify as something my father would kick us out of the house for.

      A sigh loosened my chest. I'd have to go downstairs eventually. Muttering a curse under my breath, I realized it was the weekend; my father would be home all day. That would lead to nothing good.

When I reluctantly went downstairs, I found everyone sitting quietly in a sitting room. I was about to open my mouth and address them, but before I could, I heard my father's voice behind me. "Jaxon. I was beginning to think you'd never tear yourself from that workshop."

I wanted to tell him my workshop was the only part of this place that made it bearable. I wanted to say that I'd rather stay there for the rest of my life than have another conversation with him. But I needed to behave myself so that he'd let us stay longer. So for once, I held my tongue.

"I told your...friends to wait here for you to finally show yourself. We have things to discuss."

"Yes." I forced my voice to be unnaturally polite. "Like our stay here."

At first, my father said nothing. He simply let his eyes trail over my teammates. The silence was uncomfortable and I knew the others felt it too. He finally said slowly, "I already know who most of you are." First, he addressed Delphinium, who was looking like a cornered animal under his gaze. "Delphinium Tesla. I've met your grandmother once or twice. But never you...no, you weren't seen by anyone for a three-year long period." My father cocked his head to the side, as if trying to figure out where she'd been. I had to remind myself that he knew nothing of her imprisonment.

      "Leave her alone," I told him in a low voice, noting the way her nails dug into her palms.

     As if he hadn't heard me, my father moved on to Benton. "And I certainly know who you are. My company builds weapons and I have more than a few friends in government positions. You're an international terrorist. They warned us about you." Benny did nothing but leer at him, not helping his case at all.

      "As for the rest of you," he said, eyeing the other four, "You're thieves, criminals, murderers. I've done my research. And," he paused for effect. "You're wanted by the United States government."

      "Who's the highest on their list?" Arlo asked, looking genuinely curious.

      My father either ignored him or answered his question by turning to Jake. "Don't think I didn't recognize you the second my son brought you here. Jake Evans. You helped my son escape that prison. Because you were locked up there too."