Scorched

muster. Then she shoved him away.

“Are you kidding me?” she cried. “That’s all you have to say?” It was all she could do not to reach out and strangle him. To punish him somehow for dragging her into this mess to begin with.

He told you not to touch the egg, something inside her nagged. Maybe you should have listened.

Connor’s face darkened, his cheek branded crimson from where she’d struck him. “Look, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of what’s going on here. The egg cannot fall into enemy hands. The future of the world depends on it.”

Trinity stared at him in disbelief. He was crazy. She’d dragged a crazy person into her house. She scowled at him. “You want the egg so badly, just take it,” she spit out. “Take it and get out and leave us alone.” She no longer cared that it might be valuable. They could find another way to save their house. One that didn’t involve crazy boys and men with machine guns and near-death escapes over barbed-wire fences. She glared at the egg out in the living room, sitting innocently on the coffee table, where Connor had left it. Once again she had the nearly overwhelming urge to grab it and smash it to smithereens. The stupid thing was nothing but trouble.

Don’t let him, Trinity. Don’t let him take me away.

She froze, fear throttling her and rendering her immobile. That voice. The same one from back in the museum. The one she’d convinced herself was all in her head. Had it really just addressed her again—from inside her own living room?

I’m nothing like Mom. Nothing like—

“What’s wrong?” Connor demanded, peering at her with alarm on his face. “You’re pale as a ghost.”

She waved him off, not wanting him to recognize her fear; he already had too much advantage over her already. “I’m fine,” she informed him with as much scorn as she could muster. Anyway, he was the one who was crazy. Not her. “Now, weren’t you leaving?”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“Well, I’m not leaving without my grandpa.”

Their eyes met, Connor’s gaze bearing down on her—dark blue irises shimmering with fire. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if they would glow in the dark, then berated herself for the ridiculous notion. Who gave a crap if he had beautiful eyes? He had an ugly, uncaring soul underneath. One that cared more about expensive relics than real-life people.

She matched his eyes with her own, wrestling him into a stalemate, daring him to look away first.

And then…he did.

“Fine,” he muttered, turning his back on her. “Have it your way.” He started out into the living room and toward the front door. She stared after him, a gnawing uneasiness tugging at her insides as he extended the distance between them. He was leaving. Just like she’d told him to. Just like she’d thought she’d wanted.

And in a moment, she’d be totally alone.

She stood there, shifting from foot to foot as she fought the urge to stop him. She hated how much she didn’t want him to leave and tried to tell herself it was for the best. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need the egg. The sooner he left, the better for everyone. Right?

She heard a deadbolt click into place.

“Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, following him into the living room, surprise and relief washing over her as she realized he was still on the same side of the front door. The now securely locked front door.

He gave her a weary look before heading over to the big, front picture window and studying it with critical eyes. “If we’re going to be waiting here, I’d like to reinforce things a bit. Is that all right with you?”

Her heart stuttered. He was staying? He was choosing to wait? Even though he said it could be dangerous? Even though he needed to protect the egg? That was, as he said, his number-one priority. His so-called mission to save the world. So why on Earth would he choose to stay? To keep himself and the egg in danger?

She bit her lower lip. There was only one explanation. For her.

Guilt writhed through her as she watched him attempt to shove the bookshelf in front of the window, straining with the effort. Maybe she’d judged him too quickly. Maybe he was being cautious, not coldhearted. And maybe her stubbornness was stupid, not strong. After all, what would she have wanted her grandpa to do if he were in this situation, waiting for her instead? Certainly nothing that would put him in danger.

Still, she couldn’t just take off…

Mind racing, she glanced out the window, her eyes settling on the dark silhouette of the ramshackle barn behind her best friend Caitlin’s house. Her heart clenched as she gazed longingly at the familiar haven. How many times had the two of them escaped there, late at night, while everyone else was fast asleep? They’d curl up in the hay-filled loft, streaming gory horror movies on Caitlin’s iPad or gagging down cheap whiskey, pilfered from Grandpa’s stash, while drunk texting cute boys from school. For the past two years, the barn had been Trin’s sanctuary when times got tough.

And things didn’t get much tougher than this.

“Wait,” she told Connor, making up her mind.

He stopped and turned to her, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow. “What?”

“See that barn?” she asked, pointing out the back window. “My neighbors left two days ago—they were going to Disney World for Christmas. The barn will be empty—they only use it to store bikes and stuff anyway. We could hide out there and watch the house to see if he comes back. You can see everything perfectly from there.”

Connor’s eyes swept the barn’s exterior, assessing it quickly. Then he nodded in agreement. “Good idea,” he said in a clipped voice. But she caught a flicker of relief cross his face and was glad she’d decided to speak up. “Let’s go.”

They burst out the back door, sprinting toward the barn. No sooner had they reached its entrance than a pair of headlights turned in, illuminating the dead-end street. Hurrying, they dove through the front doors, just as the all-too-familiar black truck screeched to a halt outside Trinity’s house. As they watched, the team of armed men spilled out once again, surrounding the cottage in seconds. There were a few indecipherable shouts followed by a loud crash as they kicked in the front door—the same door Trinity had been standing behind only moments prior.

“Oh God,” she whispered, horrified but unable to turn away. If they had been there. If they had just waited one minute longer to leave…

A strong hand clasped her shoulder and she turned in surprise. Connor stood behind her, tall and straight, his jaw tense and his gaze never faltering from the window. The moonlight gave his pale skin an almost unearthly pallor and his eyes did indeed seem to glow with faint luminescence. She drew in a breath, waiting for another “I told you so”—one in this case she totally deserved—but it didn’t come, and she was grateful for that.

They stood for a moment. Silent and watchful. Alone yet together. Trinity hyperaware of Connor standing strong and steady behind her, his hand still securely clamped on her shoulder as they waited to see what the men would do.

They didn’t have to wait long. Soon the sounds of crashing and banging and breaking glass assaulted their ears, soundtracking the search-and-destroy going on inside. Trin cringed, glad that she couldn’t see through the walls, couldn’t watch her beloved home being torn apart. She imagined the invaders shredding couch cushions, knocking over the TV, ripping her precious books from their shelves and tossing them away like rubbish. She pictured her Christmas tree toppling over, ornaments shattering, candy canes splitting in two, presents being stomped on and torn to shreds—one present in particular.

“Great. Now I’m never going to get to play the Fields of Fantasy expansion pack,” she muttered. When Connor gave her a questioning look, she sighed. “Yeah, priorities, I know. But still…”

Her only relief was catching sight of her cat fleeing the house unharmed. Baby Puss was a resourceful one. She’d been a stray, just like Trin—one of the reasons they’d bonded from the start. She could rest assured the cat, at least, could take care of herself.

Her grandpa, however, was another story. Where could he be? If only he wasn’t so stubborn about cell phones. She glanced fearfully down the street, half expecting him to be strolling down the lane, straight into their clutches. Would she be able to intercept him before he reached the front door?

But her grandpa didn’t appear. And eventually the soldiers streamed out her broken-down front door and loaded back into the truck. Trinity let out a sigh of relief while Connor continued to watch, eagle-eyed, until they