"He didn't." Jason's voice isn't shocked, but almost like a command, as if that sort of lunacy is something he couldn't allow to exist in his world. That fury turns white hot inside him, and he's glad he's at a stoplight because for a moment it blinds him. Some muscle in his jaw tenses and his teeth grind.

He squeezes her hand as if she's the only thing keeping him from exploding, combusting, flying off into the stratosphere.

"You'd think if they thought we had power, they'd respect it. But instead they act like we have power we don't and that we're scraped off their shoes."