Fang and I stood there, torn between grabbing the backpack out of his hands rather violently, or still attempting to look like the picture of innocence.

The guy pulled out the file triumphantly, along with a couple of Iggy's handmade bombs.

Which all added up to six bird kids totally screwed.

The guy shoved the file in my face. "This was absolutely confidential! You had absolutely no business to read this, let alone steal it from Biotech!"

"It had my name on it. Doesn't that make it my business?" I asked calmly. "And how did you know that it was in that backpack?"

The man threw his hands up, as if to say, "I give up". Another younger guy put a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward.

"Agent Lavelle." He introduced himself. "We have reason to believe that you witnessed the helicopter crash a few weeks ago."

The one that had happened after the dog had chewed up my leg. The one that Angel knew was going to happen.

"We didn't witness anything." I lied, but I made a mistake. As I said it, my gaze flickered away from his eyes and to Angel. He saw this and knew I wasn't being honest.

"We need you to tell the truth." He said quietly.

"Why do you even want to know?" I demanded.

"These bombs"—he held up the ones from Iggy's backpack—"are identical to the ones used to cause the helicopter explosion."

"Okay, well, congratulations on your little kindergarten detective act. I still don't understand why this made your buddy over there nearly pop a blood vessel. We didn't witness any explosion. Yeah, maybe we took a file, but that's all you can accuse us of. Big fat freaking deal."

Agent Lavelle stared straight into my eyes, and I did all I could to stare right back. "Are you taking care of all these kids yourself?" He pointed to my flock.

"We all take care of each other," I said, steel in my voice.

"But you're the oldest?"

"Yes."

"And how old are you?"

"Why does it matter?"

The guy who had questioned me before fired his gun into the air angrily. "Answer—the—question!" He screamed, his face turning purple.

"Fine. Whatever keeps your brains from splattering all over us." I said evenly, and the man got even angrier.

Agent Lavelle repeated his question. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

He nodded to my other flock members. I sighed, pointing out each of them as I said their ages. "Fourteen, fourteen, eleven, six, and eight."

"I'm seven," Angel corrected me.

"Whatever," I muttered.

He sighed. "We know you were being treated for schizophrenia, and were actually reduced to having to be in a padded cell and straitjacket."

I stared at him, my face like stone.

"With your…condition, I don't think you should be taking care of all these children. Especially since you're only fifteen."

"Are you telling me you're trying to take my family away from me?" I demanded in disbelief.

He nodded grimly. "I'm sorry. Only until you're cured."

"No. You will not touch anyone in my flock."

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"Here's a compromise: Don't bother doing it at all." I snarled.

I knew one way to get out of this, but I wasn't sure if I would risk it. I could tell them that we were being taken care of by my mom.

"You're dangerous, Max. You don't want to put your family at risk, do you?"

"I'm not dangerous."

"That's not what Biotech is saying. They've been putting wanted posters everywhere. They think you're a threat, not just because of your schizophrenia."

"Then why?"

He held up a picture. "Did you or did you not kill this man?"

The picture was of the whitecoat I had shot. When Brigid had demanded I shoot Fang.

My jaw tightened. "I did not." I said through clenched teeth.

He shook his head sadly, like he was disappointed that I had lied. He was a pretty good actor, clearly. "I'm sorry," He repeated, "but it looks like it would be everyone's best interest if we got someone to take care of these kids for a while."

"No--!" I started, as I felt someone tug my arms behind me.

I struggled, trying to get out of the guy's grip, and watched in horror as they took Gazzy, Nudge, and Angel, all three of them also thrashing around, and shoved them into a car.

I screamed furiously.

Fang and Iggy leaped into the air and spread out their wings before the men in black could grab them. They took off after the car.

Agent Lavelle and the other guy who needed anger management forced me into a car, too.

"We need to ask you some questions," Lavelle said casually.

Well, I'm not going to answer them, I thought defiantly.

I saw—farther ahead than a normal person could see—Fang and Iggy flying after the car the three kids were in.

Fang dropped down on the roof of the car, and the driver swerved, trying to shake him off. Iggy circled overhead, then suddenly also dropped down, kicking the windshield.

Oh, God, be careful, I begged them silently.

Have you ever been in a car accident? You know how things seem to go slowly? How you have time to think a hundred things in one second? That's how it felt right then for me.

As if Fang had read my thoughts, his head suddenly snapped to my car, and I saw the look on his face. Fright.

All the windows were tinted, so he didn't see the questioning look on my face.

For some reason, I was in the front with Agent Lavelle, and the Mr. Anger Management was in the backseat. Why was that?

The speedometer was practically screaming, "Slow the hell down, you crazy lunatic!"

A semi was heading right for the car in front of us. And that car had Fang on top of it, Iggy on the windshield, and the three kids sitting in the backseat.

And when it's small car + big semi, the big semi's always going to win.

All these thoughts flashed through my head as I squeezed my eyes shut and screamed as loud as I could.