“Or when it blows up in your face,” warned Wrightwood. He said it to Hagen’s retreating back. Steve had had enough and he was leaving as quickly as he could.
Steve fumed inwardly. It was sheer frustration; nothing would have satisfied Steve so much as to step forward and send a hard fist into Wrightwood’s face just to feel the skin crush and the bone beneath it grate against his knuckle. But against that desire was too many years of viewing William Wrightwood with the awe and fear that a youth holds for an adult who has authority and power over him. As a youth, Steve had neither the physical ability nor the mental agility to cope with his foster father. Now that the tables had been turned by the years and Steve could handle William Wrightwood physically, Hagen understood that physical sup
