"Stop pretending. How could ashes fit in something that small? First-class hero? Please. Those would be in the Heroes’ Rest Memorial Grounds."
Her voice dripped with mockery. "You really think you can scare us? You’re dumber than you look."
She didn’t know the truth—that the gourd held the last of my father’s ashes.
But Maxwell knew. And still, he smiled.
"Don’t I know your family’s situation? Your father’s never home, and your mother ran off with another man years ago."
He looked me over with contempt. "You’re lucky I even date you. Dark, skinny… not even half as pretty as Colette."
"Accepting gifts from another guy? You’re a cheating slut, looking for trouble."
Then—crunch. He stomped the gourd flat, scattering the ashes into the dirt.
"First-class hero? Let’s see if his ashes hurt my feet."
"Stop!" My voice cracked. "Don’t touch my father’s ashes!"
I shoved him back and dropped to my knees, clawing at the ground to collect what I could.
Pain exploded through my hand. He had stepped down—hard—on my fingers.
There was a sharp crack. White-hot agony shot up my arm, and a scream tore from my throat.
"What’s going on here?"