Then he found himself at the door, a hand above the dead bolt, holding it closed. “Stop. Hunter, stop.”

“Let me go.”

“No. Listen. We’ll figure something out. I won’t—”

“You won’t what? You won’t leave me to deal with this alone? Guess what. You wouldn’t be the first.”

Michael stared at him. Hunter barely had any more ties to this area than Michael himself did. The poor kid was staying with Adam—almost a stranger—because he didn’t want to endanger his family. And here Michael was about to turn his back on him too.

Michael winced. “I don’t want to be the second, either. Finish your dinner. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

After a moment, Hunter returned to the table. So did Michael.

Tyler hadn’t even stopped eating. He looked vaguely amused—but also pissed off. “What happened to ‘it’s not my responsibility to protect everyone’?”

“Shut up, Tyler.” Michael hated this. He hated that he couldn’t turn off his thoughts and obligations and let someone else take the reins for a while.

Hell, fate had already dealt him those cards by taking his brothers away, by offering him a chance to live free of obligation, and he could barely consider it.

Tyler picked up a carton of rice and dumped half onto his plate. “Where are you going to go?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You want my opinion?”

“No.”

Tyler shoveled a bunch of cashew chicken on top of the rice. “You’re getting it anyway. If you want to run, run. But remember that text message from the woods, about who’s the hunter and who’s the prey?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think you’re cut out to be the latter.”

Was that a compliment? Michael wasn’t sure how to respond.

Tyler kept talking. “I’ve never seen you run from anything. Even when I hated you, I knew you wouldn’t back down.”

“Are you an idiot? We ran from the guy in the woods until Jack stopped us.”

“Yeah, and as soon as you thought Hannah was in danger, you ran back in.”

Michael didn’t have anything to say to that.

“What really happened in the woods?” said Tyler. “Give me details, because you weren’t this keyed up before.”

“I told you.” Michael set his jaw. “The Guide pulled a gun and the fire marshal shot him.”

“Then why were you covered in blood?”

Hunter’s fork went still against the plate. He was watching this conversation like a tennis match.

“It’s not important,” Michael said.

“Fuck that. It is important. What happened?”

Michael didn’t say anything.

Tyler leaned in against the table. “What did you do?”

“He was going to kill me. So I tried to kill him first.”

Hunter finally spoke up. “Hand to hand?”

“Yeah.” He paused. He almost didn’t want to say what had happened, as if admitting it would make it more real. It was plenty real. He’d scrubbed the blood off his hands forever. He still felt like he hadn’t gotten it all. “I stabbed him. A couple of times. Broke some ribs, too.”

“Holy crap,” said Tyler. “What did you stab him with?”

Michael met his eyes. “A rock.”

“And they think he was the same guy who bombed the restaurant?” said Hunter.

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. But I think so.”

“Interesting.” He paused, and his expression said he was working through something in his head. “If he was the kind of guy to work from a distance with a bomb, I’m surprised he confronted you in the woods like that.”

“There was a lot of smoke and fire in the underbrush,” said Michael. “Poor visibility. He was shooting at us to begin with.”

“Huh.” Hunter picked at his food again.

“What?” said Tyler.

“I don’t know. I just think people tend to fall into two camps: those who prefer to be violent from a safe distance, and those who prefer to be an active participant. My dad and uncle were opposite sides of that coin. My dad had lots of experience in hand-to-hand combat. He wouldn’t work from a distance unless he had to. He thought violence should mean something. My uncle was a cop, and he’d been trained to take care of a situation from a distance, if he could. It was a safety thing: why engage with a bad guy if you don’t have to?”

“So what’s that all mean?” said Michael.

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.” He paused. “But there wasn’t just one Guide last time, right?”

The question made Michael’s heart stop for a moment. “No. But why wouldn’t the other one step in to save the first?”

Hunter rolled that around for a long moment. “I don’t know. I can’t see any advantage to letting you leave if the first was going to kill you. Especially since the police have a body and a name and someone to investigate.”

“What was his name?” said Tyler.

“Warren Morris,” said Michael.

Tyler snorted. “He sounds like he should be preparing taxes, not walking around hunting people with a gun.”

“Maybe he does prepare taxes,” said Hunter. “He doesn’t have to be military. Guides come from all walks of life. Look at Becca’s dad. He works for the Department of Natural Resources. Not exactly the front lines of the militia.”