Prologue
“Freak! Weirdo! Loser!”
Their voices chased me like stones.
The woods behind the playground blurred past — twisted branches clawing at my hair, mud sucking at my shoes. My lungs burned. My heart hammered so hard it hurt.
I didn’t cry. Crying made it worse.
If Sable were here, she’d save me.
But she wasn’t.
Why couldn’t I find her?
I had only wanted to go for a walk. That was it.
Sable had left me some coins. Mother and father were out – so I walked to the shop.
And it had been nice. Fun even. Just to have some air.
But the chocolate milk I had been so keen on – that little treat I had wanted already dripped across the concrete where it was knocked from my hands. It splattered the ground like mud.
And now I was running.
“Sable!” I screamed, bursting out of the trees and down the empty street toward home.
A rock caught the back of my neck. Pain exploded white. I stumbled, hit the ground hard — gravel and dirt tearing skin from my knees and palms. The hill dropped suddenly, and I rolled, tumbling through wet leaves until the ground slammed me still.
Dirt filled my mouth. My hands stung.
Then the world went silent.
The laughter stopped. Even the wind was holding its breath.
When I looked up, someone was there.
I knew him — the boy who lived next door. Mother told me not to talk to him. People said his father was a rebel, that he’d tried to overthrow the council, that he’d been executed for it. Only Kieran and his mother had been spared.
That was his name.
Kieran Hawthorne
He was tall — maybe a few years older — black hair falling into sharp blue eyes that didn’t look away.
Sable had said his power leaned toward the dark; Mother thought people like him should be locked away.
But he looked at me as if I weren’t a monster.
“Are you okay?” he asked, offering his hand.
For a heartbeat I hesitated. It felt like a test. His face shifted — like maybe he expected me to refuse.
But I knew what it was like to be different.
So I took it.
He hauled me up just as Jimmy and his friends came skidding to a stop at the bottom of the hill.
“Well, look at that,” Jimmy sneered. “The freak made a friend with the criminal. How cute.”
Kieran stepped forward. His grin was sharp. He lifted his hands and lightning shimmered between his fingers — alive, dancing like a friend.
Jimmy took a step back. His power was water, but it was weak. Even I could tell. Kieran’s smile went feral, the sort of grin a wolf wears before it shows its teeth. Jimmy’s friends faltered, nervous.
“We don’t want trouble with you, Hawthorne. Just hand over the freak,” Adam White said. “And we’ll be gone.”
Kieran glanced at me from the corner of his eye; something dangerous glinted in his gaze. “I think we may have a big fucking problem, actually. Because I don’t like you.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Hawthorne!” Jimmy barked, though his lips trembled. “My dad’ll have your head if you so much as touch me.”
“I don’t see Daddy anywhere, Jameson. Do you, Quinn?” Kieran replied, and his voice was calm as ice.
It took me a moment to realise he was asking me. “No,” I said, small.
“You know what I hate, Jameson?” Kieran asked them.
“What?” Jimmy snapped.
“Bullies. I can’t fucking stand them.”
He jerked his hands. Lightning crackled and danced over his knuckles. Jimmy went white. Adam tugged at his sleeve. “Come on. The bitch isn’t worth it,” he muttered.
Jimmy stared at me as if the whole thing were my fault. “This isn’t over, Hawthorne,” he spat. “And you — I’ll see you soon, don’t you worry.”
Kieran’s voice dropped low, slow as a promise. “Go near her again, and I will kill you.”
For a second the hill held its breath. Then Jimmy forced a grin and backed away, the boys following, each one glancing over his shoulder until they disappeared into the trees.
When they were gone, Kieran let out a breath that was almost a laugh. He looked at me, something unreadable in his face. “You okay?” he asked again.
I nodded, though my hands still shook. The lightning between his fingers had gone, but the echo of it thrummed under my skin.
“He’ll wait until you aren’t around,” I said quietly. “He does that.”
“Well,” Kieran said, tilting his head with a small grin, “I guess you and I might have to become friends then—so I can keep you safe.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m used to being on my own.” I brushed dirt from my clothes. “I know I’m a freak. People tell me that every day.”
“They shouldn’t,” Kieran said softly. “Don’t ever let anyone make you feel small, baby Quinn.”
“Seph.”
“Quinn,” he corrected gently. “Own your name. It’s yours, no matter what they say.”
He started to walk away. I didn’t want him to.
“Kieran?”
He turned, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I said at last. “For saving me.”
He grinned—bright, dangerous, and warm all at once. “You’re welcome.”