J A X O N

      I hated it here. I hated this big, empty house. I hated my father's judgmental looks. I hated the constant reminders that my brothers were everything my parents wanted and I wasn't.

     As soon as I got old enough to be aware of the fact that I was different from my family—that I didn't quite belong, I'd wanted to get out of here. And now, after everything, I was back.

      I'd barely slept last night. After tossing and turning in a bed that no longer felt like my own, I spent the rest of the early morning hours in my workshop, a connecting room I'd made for myself. Among my various tools—tools I'd had to buy myself when my parents didn't approve of my inventing—and the smell of oil and metal was where I thrived.

     By the time the sun rose, I'd built Kane a new spear. All the others opted to fight with either standard weapons, their powers or their bare hands, so I figured the strongman was the only one who'd need a specially-made weapon. And specially-made it was, with six feet of bone-breaking metal and able to break in half to form two separate parts with points on one end.

      I smiled faintly as I admired the way it shone in the light. It was perfect. But I'd have to give it to him covertly; creating weapons would certainly qualify as something my father would kick us out of the house for.

      A sigh loosened my chest. I'd have to go downstairs eventually. Muttering a curse under my breath, I realized it was the weekend; my father would be home all day. That would lead to nothing good.

When I reluctantly went downstairs, I found everyone sitting quietly in a sitting room. I was about to open my mouth and address them, but before I could, I heard my father's voice behind me. "Jaxon. I was beginning to think you'd never tear yourself from that workshop."

I wanted to tell him my workshop was the only part of this place that made it bearable. I wanted to say that I'd rather stay there for the rest of my life than have another conversation with him. But I needed to behave myself so that he'd let us stay longer. So for once, I held my tongue.

"I told your...friends to wait here for you to finally show yourself. We have things to discuss."

"Yes." I forced my voice to be unnaturally polite. "Like our stay here."

At first, my father said nothing. He simply let his eyes trail over my teammates. The silence was uncomfortable and I knew the others felt it too. He finally said slowly, "I already know who most of you are." First, he addressed Delphinium, who was looking like a cornered animal under his gaze. "Delphinium Tesla. I've met your grandmother once or twice. But never you...no, you weren't seen by anyone for a three-year long period." My father cocked his head to the side, as if trying to figure out where she'd been. I had to remind myself that he knew nothing of her imprisonment.

      "Leave her alone," I told him in a low voice, noting the way her nails dug into her palms.

     As if he hadn't heard me, my father moved on to Benton. "And I certainly know who you are. My company builds weapons and I have more than a few friends in government positions. You're an international terrorist. They warned us about you." Benny did nothing but leer at him, not helping his case at all.

      "As for the rest of you," he said, eyeing the other four, "You're thieves, criminals, murderers. I've done my research. And," he paused for effect. "You're wanted by the United States government."

      "Who's the highest on their list?" Arlo asked, looking genuinely curious.

      My father either ignored him or answered his question by turning to Jake. "Don't think I didn't recognize you the second my son brought you here. Jake Evans. You helped my son escape that prison. Because you were locked up there too."

All eyes went to Jake; no one but him and I were aware what had happened then. Except perhaps Benny, who was looking smug that he'd already known.

      Jake had been imprisoned there a few weeks after me. At first, he'd made a name for himself by brutally beating anyone half to death who tried to harass him. As the youngest ones there, we stuck together. And once I got to know him, I'd never asked how he had gotten there. Even after we'd escaped together and went on the run, I'd never been quite sure how someone like him had gotten caught for his crimes.

"Given who you all are, I'm surprised nothing happened last night," my father remarked and I wanted to hit him. "I'm done harboring criminals in my home."

I was tired of the constant undermining and disappointment. I was tired of his superior attitude. And I was tired of him treating me as a delinquent instead of a son.

"Look at them," I hissed, gesturing to my only friends in the world. "You have no idea what kind of shit we've had to deal with. They've been through hell and back. We have nowhere else to go."

My father's tone rose to meet mine. "Get your head out of your ass, Jaxon! You remember very well what happened when you associated yourself with criminals last time. You damaged other people's property, you stole for fun and you got into street fights. There was a reason you were sent to an adult prison with six charges!"

A low, humorless laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. "Yeah, there was a reason I was sent there. You turned me in. I came to you, telling you I wanted to change and finally make you proud. And instead, you called the cops on me and watched as they took me away."

He took an encroaching step closer to me. I was pleased to see that he was a good two inches shorter and had to look up at me. "That's right, I did send you away. You were in a downward spiral. It was better for you to be safe in a prison cell than dead in a gutter somewhere. You were a danger to yourself. And the people you surrounded yourself with were only fuel to the fire you were burning yourself down with." He gave my friends a pointed glance. "Perhaps I should let you be and simply let you deal with the consequences yourself. Maybe then you'll learn."

That was it. "Do you know why I did all that? Do you know why I chose to be a delinquent? Because I wanted you to finally look at me," I spat. "All my life, I've never been enough for you. Never. Holland and Brooks are your perfect, favorite children. They were all you wanted. I was just an afterthought. A screw-up. The only time anyone ever thought of me was when I was making trouble. So I decided to be exactly what everyone expected me to be."

"Your brothers are not my favorite children," he snarled back, not doing much to prove his point. "You only think that because they never caused trouble around the house. They never got mixed in with criminal activity as you did, so they were never treated as a criminal as you were."

"No," I retorted, shaking my head. Everyone was watching the fight, but I didn't care. "It's more then that, isn't it? It's because they were like you and I wasn't. I was born with these unnatural abilities that I always had to hide away. I never wanted to be good at school or play football or be a normal child like you wanted; I wanted to build and invent. And it was never what you wanted for me."

My father scoffed, throwing his hands in the air as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You can't see it, can you? You're exactly like me. This fighting...Holland and Brooks would have never argued back to me. But you have your own fire. I own a company that builds weapons and you make dangerous creations of your own. You're a fighter, someone who rocks the boat. Someone who faces danger head on. Against all my wishes, you became exactly like me. And I would never want that for you."

"Yeah, that makes two of us." My voice was stone and I was perfectly calm now. "It doesn't matter now, though. I always thought I needed your approval. But I've come to realize that I don't. I've found better family now." I jerked my chin to the others. "I don't need yours anymore."

He looked like he was going to say something back, but I continued before he could. "We're staying here for a few more days. And then we'll be out of your hair." Without breaking eye contact with Aaron Williams, I said, "Kane, come with me. I built a new weapon for you."

      I didn't look back once I'd turned away. Kane's quiet footsteps behind me were the only indication he was following. Knowing him, he wouldn't say anything about what he'd just witnessed and I was glad for it.

He was silent as I took the staff off the stand and handed it to him. "It's perfectly weighted on either side. Perfect for breaking bone. And if you pull it apart in the center—" He pulled it apart and wielded the pointed halves, eyeing them with wonder. "It breaks into two spears," I finished, gesturing to what he'd already figured out.

"Thank you." His voice was even softer than usual. I couldn't tell whether he was proud or pitying me or something else entirely.

"Hopefully you'll be using it on our enemies soon," I remarked and went back to my room.

When I went to close the workshop door behind us, I was reminded yet again my left arm was gone. It was a reality I was still adjusting to. But sometimes I wondered if it would ever be normal.

My eyes dropped to something on my desk. A comic book. My brother Brooks used to collect them and give me the ones he no longer wanted. But it wasn't the book itself that caught my eye, it was what lay on the cover: a villain bearing a metal arm.

I turned to the strongman, who was giving me privacy and just silently leaving the room. "Kane, I just had a brilliant idea." Glancing back down at the metal-armed man with a spreading smile, I stated, "I'm going to get my arm back."