The Darkest Legacy (Darkest Min - Alexandra Bracken Page 0,78

onto my knees.

The men caught fire one by one, howling like the pack of wolves they were as it overcame them. I had the wild, fleeting thought that, from a distance, scattered in an arc on the trail, they looked like birthday candles.

The flames burned so bright, with such devastating intensity, the men only had mere seconds to scream before their lungs were singed.

As soon as the kids pulled themselves free, they ran for the house. It looked like all of them were unharmed beyond the roughing up the men had given them.

The kids gave a wide berth to the boy who still stood at the center of the trail, his gaze dispassionate as the figures that once had been men twisted into monstrous charred shapes on the ground. Wind carried the fire from their remains to the house, fanning them out over the siding and porch.

“Owen!” I called, jumping to my feet.

The boy turned his gaze on me.

This is why, that same dark voice whispered. Why it had been so easy to accept those controls Cruz and the others had put in place for us. Why that doubting part of me had been able to nod, to repeat their reasons for putting legal constraints on us. Why people would always be afraid, and why it had felt like we had to accept whatever small shred of freedom we’d been given.

No one should have power like this.

No one should be punished for using that power to protect themselves and others.

This was terrifying.

This was necessary.

My stomach rioted as I took another step closer to him. He’s a kid. He’s just a kid.

He had control. He didn’t need to be controlled.

“Owen,” I said, softer. “That’s enough….”

The rising flames from the house illuminated his face in a warm glow.

Then a flicker of awareness. Sudden fear, like that of a young child, pooled in his eyes.

“It’s okay,” I told him, holding out a hand. “You’re all right—”

Haven’s screen door slammed open and shut.

We both spun, but Owen was faster. Two men jumped down from the porch, guns drawn, and got no more than a step toward us before the first one went up in a horrifying whoosh of flame.

Blinded by fire and smoke, the first man ran, stumbling, back toward the house, collapsing onto one of the porch’s wooden posts.

I couldn’t move. My vision went dark at the edges, and I wasn’t seeing the soldier, I was seeing Mel. I was seeing the Defenders, the reporters, the bystanders torn apart by the explosion.

Stop it, stop it, stop it—I shook my head, feeling like I was about to vomit. Within seconds, the flames had snaked up in the dark wood and spilled across the porch. The second man shot Owen a terrified look, freezing in place.

The boy only stared back. His forehead wrinkled, first in obvious confusion, then in outright alarm. He clutched at his head, letting out a soft moan of pain.

No. It had him, too.

The girl stepped out from behind the trees again as if materializing from the night sky. Her hands were in her oversize jacket’s pockets, her gaze focused on Owen’s hunched form. Her lips twisted in a cruel mockery of a smile.

Her?

As quickly as she’d appeared, she was gone again, fading back into the fog and darkness. It couldn’t be a coincidence—the band of pressure tightened on my mind. Somehow, she was…the girl was doing this to us. But if Owen hadn’t been immediately affected, it meant she had to target each Psi individually for her numbing grip to work.

Seeing an opportunity, the second soldier on the porch raised his gun.

“No!” I dove forward, throwing my arms around Owen to try to shield his small body.

A shot rang out.

A heavy body slumped to the ground, all clattering equipment and rustling fabric. When I didn’t feel the bite of a bullet, I pulled back, hands flying over Owen, inspecting him, feeling for the wound, for blood.

“Okay,” he mumbled, the words shaking with the rest of him. “I’m okay.”

A cry sounded. One of the soldiers, a woman, charged at us from where she’d been combing the woods, her equipment rattling. She got no more than a few steps before her body suddenly lurched up into the air with the impact of a bullet, slamming into a nearby tree.

Owen and I turned just as Roman burst through the swirl of smoke and ash, taking aim at one of the soldiers fleeing with a kid on his back. His eyes narrowed as he adjusted