There is no use in hiding anymore. Despite Macon pulling at the sleeve of my jacket, I stand from behind the zoomer and face the lorkin heir. Words dry up on my tongue the second I open my mouth. Venjo stalks closer, the overhead light casting shadows across his sharp cheekbones, darkening his tawny face. His silver eyes are colder than they've ever been, mirroring his father's in the worst of ways.

He is a different boy than the one I left behind, only remnants of shattered glass under his father's boots.

"Why are you here?" Venjo asks, stopping a zoomer away from me. "You risked it all escaping, and you've only come running back. Just like Father said you would."

"You and I both know I'm not really free until I escape this city," I say, but my voice comes out small and pathetic. I don't know what I expected—possibly a grateful Venjo since I saved him from his own reckless decisions—but it isn't the hostility laced in his voice and written across his hardened expression.

He cocks his head, his ebony horns gleaming in the light. "Why are you here?" he repeats.

I grasp for straws that aren't there. It's not like I can tell him the truth. His laser gaze is enough to let me know he won't take that very well. His eyes hold the same loathing I'd once given him many times before, the look of an enemy.

But now it seems the tables have turned.

The enemy is me.

"You're competing in the Race for Light?" I ask him, a clear distraction while Macon finishes siphoning the furyon out of the undertanks. Hopefully.

"I am," he answers, taking the bait, but watching me carefully.

He could've said more. I want him to. I want him to tell me that he is the Horns that entered the race, because I left, leaving behind a hole that he doesn't think he can fill. I want him to tell me that the House of Horns doesn't feel like a home without me. Even though I fought like hell to be free of their reaching claws and I'm now closer than I've ever been to returning to the sky, there's something I'm missing. I suddenly realize that what I really long for is to be wanted.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out.

Venjo's stone face crumbles. Just for a moment, his brow twitches, then his expression returns to his typical mask. "Sorry for what?"

"For leaving you behind."

A blanket of silence falls, leaving the room so quiet that my heart thrums in my ears.

Venjo takes a step closer, his boot scuffing against the concrete. Instead of acknowledging that night, his gaze trails to the jagged ends of my violet hair. "You seem...different."

"In some ways I am," I reply. "In this city, you have to adapt if you want to survive. Don't we know that better than anyone?"

"And who are you now?" Venjo asks.

I stare into his silver eyes as if they are mirrors, as if they'll somehow give me an answer.

"Before...you were lost, but you were safe under our protection. You were safe with me." Then his voice changes, bitterness twisting his tone. "Look at you now."

"I ask you the same question then," I say, forgetting the reason I'm even in this garage. "Who are you now? You're not the Venjo I left behind—the same guy who was ready to throw away his family's legacy for a small elf like me."

"You cover your ears and you changed your hair, the very things that made you felt like you truly belonged to something. What are you pretending to be now? A human?"

"And you're pretending to be something you're not to please someone who will never really love you for who you are!" My yell echoes off the walls, reminding me that I don't want to be heard, that I'm unwanted here.

Venjo huffs and takes another step forward, his claws disappearing as he clenches his hands to fists. His horns seem sharper than they'd been before, his height taller, his shoulders broader. He is like a boy who'd suddenly become a man, or maybe he's been this way all along and I'm just now seeing him clearly. He opens his mouth, his lip curling into a snarl, but a clatter behind me makes him stop short.

Damn you, Macon.

"Someone is with you," Venjo says, his voice dropping so low I can barely hear him. "Someone's been here. Listening. The entire time?" He pauses between each phrase, tension rising like smoke.

I scramble toward Venjo, my hands splayed as if to stop him, but he can push right through me if he wants to. He steps forward, his chest pressing into my palms, a weak barrier against him. "Stop," I say breathlessly. "Please, let me explain."

With one gentle swipe of his arm, Venjo forces my hands away from him and steps around me. He stalks toward the zoomer where I left Macon. My heart is in my throat, my teeth chattering with nerves as I follow behind him.

"Venjo!" I yell, reaching out and tugging on his arm, but he only pulls me along with him like I weigh nothing. "Please, don't!"

We stop at the front edge of the zoomer and I close my eyes, unable to watch what happens next. But all I hear is a disappointed sigh from Venjo. I open my eyes to see an empty spot where I left Macon. Even the backpack and siphoning tools are gone.

He left me behind. That slimy Starfox.

"Where is he?" Venjo asks, whipping around to face me. He rips his arm from my grasp. "I can smell him." When I don't answer, his face turns a shade darker. "I said, where is he?"

If I tell Venjo that Macon is here, he'll kill him. I can tell from the predatory gaze in his silver eyes, glinting like the edge of a sharpened knife.

"Lookin' for me?"

My heart was racing before, but when Macon's voice cuts through the quiet, it stops completely.

Venjo and I both turn. The electric mage stands to our left, the zoomer separating him from us. The vehicle stands only to our chests, allowing us the room to stare across the tension-filled space. A confident smile tugs at one side of Macon's mouth as he adjusts my pack on his back. His scarred brow cocks and his blue eyes flicker with electricity, a dare for Venjo to try something.

"You," Venjo growls. He is still, so still that I'm not sure if he is breathing anymore. Then he slowly uncurls his fists, his fingers flexing as he reveals his claws. He used to file them down—I clearly remember the dull, squared-off tips clicking against a glass table—but not anymore. He's sharpened them into claws capable of ripping someone to shreds.

"It's me," Macon shrugs. "So what?"

Venjo's response is slamming his hands down on the roof of the zoomer between Macon and us. Digging his claws into the metal, he lifts himself up and over the top of the zoomer, landing on the other side of it, an obvious reminder to us of his lorkin strength. The thud of his boots echo twice off the garage walls.

Macon's cocky smile fades as he looks up at Venjo, like he's suddenly realizing how big the lorkin heir really is. I should move. I should dive across the hood of the zoomer and get between them, but my legs are jelly and as stuck to the floor as my eyes are stuck on Macon and Venjo.

"What's wrong?" Venjo taunts Macon, splaying his clawed fingers at his sides. "Not so tough now, are you?"

Macon chuckles once and his smirk returns. "You forget, Zhane. Facing adversity has always been my strong suit." He takes a step back and raises both of his hands in front of him. Blue lightning bleeds from his fingertips, spreading up his skin, bringing his tattoos to life. "How do you think I got this magic? I wasn't born into this power like you were born into your status and horns and freakin' claws. I made a sacrifice and I took this for myself. I made magic mine, because no one else was going to give me anything in this life." The glowing tendrils along his arms sway with his movements, smooth and fluid while his words are rough and sharp. "So go ahead, try to make me your chump, but you ain't taking nothing from me today."

Before I even realize what is happening, Venjo lurches forward and swipes the air with his claws. Macon steps back, but he isn't quick enough. He didn't expect Venjo to attack. Neither did I. His lightning flickers like a dying lightbulb, his tattoos curling in like they're wilting. The crooked smile leaves his lips and his quiet gasp is a roar in the waiting quiet.

The confidence in his eyes is gone and replaced with a fear so real that the hairs on my skin rise and every limb on my body trembles.

Across Macon's chest are three slashes that cut right through his white shirt. I almost breathe a sigh of relief when I only spot the ripped material, but then scarlet bleeds from each slash, spreading like spilled wine. Macon stumbles back, his eyes locking with Venjo's for a moment before finding mine. He doesn't say it, but I hear the words in his terrified gaze.

Help me.

The look in his eyes brings my legs back to life and I surge forward, darting around the front of the zoomer. Venjo raises his clawed hand to strike again, but I jump in front of him.

"Stop!" I yell, holding my arms out at my sides, acting as a shield for Macon.

The overhead lights flicker as my voice echoes off the walls. The lights never flicker in the House of Horns, so what is causing it? My heartbeat stutters with each momentary plunge of darkness, paranoia sweeping up my spine like a feather made of ice.

In the glimpses of light, Venjo slowly lowers his arm, but his coarse expression doesn't budge. I breathe a sigh of relief at his change in stance and the lights stop flickering.

I take the opening and turn to face Macon. I only have long enough to take in how much blood soaks his shirt before he falls into me. Sliding myself under his arm, I support him, trying to ignore the thick scent of blood.

When I look up, I realize Venjo has moved and now stands between us and our exit.

"Move," I tell him.

"No," he replies.

"He'll die if I don't get him help."

Venjo's gaze is a creeping frost, devouring everything in sight. "He's a thief, a con, and a murderer. The world won't miss him."

My jaw goes slack.

Macon groans and I step forward, despite Venjo. "This isn't you. You're not your father, Venjo."

"The Starfox you're defending killed Ekon. He left my friend's body in the street. My father expects retribution. I need retribution. What else am I supposed to do?"

I struggle with Macon's weight as he rests against my frame. "Please, Venjo. Let us go. You don't have to do it for Macon. Do it for me." I don't hide the rasp in my voice, letting the desperate plea burrow into that heart Venjo has shown me.

Macon shifts against my side, adjusting his arm across my shoulders. I wrap my left arm around his waist and we take another step forward together. Venjo tears his gaze away from us, his jaw working as he avoids my gaze.

Then he steps aside.

"Just go," he says, defeat quieting his voice to a mumble.

Shock keeps me frozen for a moment, but when I fully process his words I pull Macon forward. When we hobble past Venjo, I stare down at the floor, unable to witness the look on his face.

"I've saved your life twice," Venjo says from behind me. "What've you ever done for me?" His voice rises the closer I get to the garage doors. I focus on Macon's labored breathing in my ear to drown out Venjo's spite. But when I step away from Macon to lean him against the wall while I slide open the door, Venjo's voice comes back to me.

"Don't come back here again, Little Elf."

Without giving Venjo a second glance, I heave Macon from the wall and back against my side. I drag him out onto the empty side street and to the abandoned lot where we' been watching Grit and Grubble and had parked the truck.

Little Elf.

I cringe at Venjo's use of his father's nickname for me. Venjo had always been cool and distant, but now he's cold and unreachable, leaving me wondering how far I'll have to go to get him back.