All hell was breaking loose. Again.

More bodies ran into the room, and I was in the air, going backward.

Cross ran forward. He bent down, wrapped an arm around one of Alex’s guys, and threw him onto the pool table. He took out the other guy on there at the same time.

I looked around to find Race in front of me. He was the one dragging me back. I put the brakes on, my feet skidding across the floor as I tried to stop.

But I couldn’t.

As I moved, Channing’s voice entered my head. “Go with the movement. Use it to your advantage.”

So I did.

I turned around again, running with the momentum, and stepped up on the wall. My body followed, like I was going to run up it, but I threw my leg over. I flipped, and as I landed with one foot on the floor, my other leg snapped around, kicking Race smack across his face. It was a perfect side kick.

Channing would’ve been proud.

Race fell, and I didn’t wait for his next move.

I sprinted forward into the writhing mass of bodies.

Everyone was punching, throwing, kicking.

Zellman and Alex were trading blows.

Jordan took on three of Alex’s crew. Why they seemed to wait for their turn to trade blows with him was beyond me. They weren’t the best fighters, which was good for us.

Cross fought three of his own. The two from the pool table had regrouped, and a third headed for Cross’ backside.

I went for him, but he was moving too fast. I wouldn’t be able to stop him, so I planted myself in front of him and bent forward, using the same momentum as before. I kicked up and connected right under his chin. He fell backward into Race, who was advancing on me again.

Race caught him, stopped, and looked at me, then at the guy. His eyes were wide and he looked furious as he reared back and punched the guy. The member fell to the floor, unconscious before he landed.

Race winced and started for me again.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a knife. “Stop!”

He did, holding his hands up. “I was trying to protect you.”

I could feel Cross behind me, moving and hitting. Our backs bumped up against each other, but neither of us reacted. As everyone else kept fighting around us, Race and I had a small pocket of civility. For now.

I brandished the knife. “I don’t need your protection.”

He rubbed at his jaw, eyes flashing. “Yeah. I’m getting that.” He raised his hands again. “I’m not here to make waves against you.”

Suddenly, Cross was shoved backward into me. I pitched forward, and Race shot his hands out like he was going to catch me, but I rolled to the side, coming right back to my feet. Race gave a frustrated groan, but he met the member who was raining down punches on Cross.

Race threw a right hook, spinning his body with the punch. It knocked the guy sideways, and his body got tangled up with a second.

Cross rolled to his feet, and we both stood with our knees bent, hands up, prepared for the next move. Seeing Race fighting for us, we looked at each other for a moment, but that was the extent of it.

A rush of new members came flooding in from the front of Manny’s, and we turned to face them. In the mess, we formed a circle with our backs to each other. Cross. Me. Jordan. Zellman. And now Race. He was fighting on our side.

I didn’t punch. I used my legs for most of my fighting. I wrapped my feet around one guy’s head and fell to my back, using the action and gravity to throw him over me when I saw red and blue lights through the window.

I pushed to my feet. “POLICE!”

Everyone unified.

We all took off, pushing forward to spill out the side door. I took the shortcut, not caring how pissed Heather would be. She’d had another exit door installed last summer so the cooks could step outside for a fast break.

Dodging the dishwasher and two girls huddled in the corner, I shoved open the screen door. It didn’t slam shut behind me. Cross, Zellman, and Jordan were on my tail until Cross took the lead.

He patted my arm. “Come on!” He was the fastest in our crew, and he led the way, running toward Heather’s house behind Manny’s. Jordan’s car was parked in the alley behind her garage.

No words were spoken as we piled in. Jordan started the truck right away.

Cross, Zellman, and I scrambled into the back, and as Jordan peeled out, all of us lying flat. We didn’t get far. Jordan hit the brakes, but then eased forward as we saw more police lights going past us.

We stayed like that the whole ride back to Jordan’s.

I closed my eyes at one point, replaying the scene in my head.

Race had our backs in there. Why, I had no clue, but there were going to be problems for him now. He was a Normal, and he’d gone against his cousin. They’d either turn on him, or if Alex decided to make it a family issue, he’d be kicked out of the house.

It didn’t sit right with me.

None of it.

We went to Jordan’s, but no one left the truck. He parked and got out, opening the back bed, and the three of us sat on the tailgate, our feet dangling. Jordan lounged against the side of his truck, his hands in his pockets. He looked like a guy leaning back, enjoying the weather, except his eyes were downcast, his forehead was wrinkled, and he frowned.

I raked a hand through my hair, feeling the frayed ends and trying to smooth some of it. After a minute I gave up, letting my hands rest on my lap.

Cross sat next to me. He gripped the edge of the truck, next to his legs. His knuckles were turning white.

Zellman was the only one nonplussed. He watched us, an expectant note in his eyes, like he was ready for whatever was next on the agenda.

“The dude fought with us.”

Everyone looked at Jordan. He looked at me.

“Why’d he fight on our side?”

“I clipped him when I thought he was going at me.”

Jordan shook his head. “That’s not an answer, Bren. He want in your pants or something? Is this about Drake, whatever he said about you?”

“You’re asking me like I have an answer.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not the time to be a smartass.”

“She doesn’t know. She hasn’t talked to him except when you’ve seen her.”

Jordan’s gaze switched to Cross, but he didn’t retort.

“We’re supposed to believe the guy backed us up for no reason?” he said after a moment.

A set of headlights came down Jordan’s driveway.

All of us formed a line, waiting.

The car turned past the main house and began coming up the slight hill to the shed. After a moment its headlights lit us up. We weren’t able to make out the car, or who was driving it. We were almost blinded, but there was no reason to hide. If they’d come to Jordan’s, we would fight.

As the vehicle parked, I could tell it was a truck. I reached into my pocket for my knife.

The lights stayed on, but both doors opened.

“Put the knife away, Bren! Now!”

Oh shit.

Jordan glanced at me. “Your brother?”

I felt Cross looking at me too, but I only grimaced and did as Channing said.

The knife went back into my pocket, and I waited, his gait a brisk and angry motion. As he moved out of the headlights, I could see his jaw clenched, his eyes irate, and the bottom of his neck reddening.

Now, I had to give my brother some credit here. He’d been a terror when he was younger, but he was older now and generally more laidback. Generally. Having said that, I knew he did get pissed, but the times I’d seen his neck red could be counted on one hand. I almost stepped back, but I held firm, not looking away.

The person with him fell back, and when I recognized Race, I got a good jolt. An apology flashed in his eyes before Channing started.

“Want to tell me what the fuck happened at Manny’s?” My brother raked his hands through his hair. “Heather called me and said it all started with you. You guys trashed the place? What were you thinking?!”