The Naturals, Book 2: Killer Instinct

“None of us had normal childhoods,” Sloane said quietly. “If we had, we wouldn’t be Naturals.”

“If it had been me in the woods, if I’d been the one to go with Briggs, if I’d been the one you saw at the exact second…”

Would it have been me? He didn’t finish the question, and I didn’t answer it. As I turned back toward the house, he went back to knocking the windows out of that broken, battered car.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice carrying on the wind. “That’s what I thought.”

“I know,” he said. “I know that you care about him. I know that you’re attracted to him. I know that when he hurts, it hurts you. I know that he never looks at you the way he looks at Lia, that you’re not a sister to him. I know that he wants you. He’s in over his head with you. But I also know that half the time, he hates that he wants you.”

“My father made me watch.”

“None of us had normal childhoods,” Sloane said quietly. “If we had, we wouldn’t be Naturals.”