"You owe us, little man," the biggest one said. "Your brother said you'd pay."
"I don't have it!" Marcus shouted. His voice cracked. "I told you, I don't have it!"
Blake felt the old heat rising in his chest. The heat that had always told him what to do. Hit first. Hit hard. Make them afraid.
He could do it, too. These were street kids, not trained fighters. He could put all three of them on the ground in less than ten seconds. Six months ago, he wouldn't have thought twice.
Then he heard Daniel's voice in his head, as clear as if the man were standing right beside him.
"Strength isn't what you can do to someone. It's what you choose not to do."
Blake breathed in. Slowly. Ten minutes of standing still, compressed into one breath.
Then he walked forward. Not fast. Not aggressive. Hands open, at his sides.
"Hey, guys," he said calmly. "What's going on?"
The three boys spun around.
"Mind your business, rich boy," the big one said. He let go of Marcus and stepped toward Blake. "Unless you want some too."
Blake didn't stop walking. But he also didn't raise his hands.
He moved, very deliberately, until he was standing between the three boys and Marcus. Exactly the way Daniel had stood between him and Emily at the party.
"Marcus, go inside," Blake said without turning around. "Door's still unlocked. Call your mom."
"Blake—"
"Go."
Marcus ran.
The big kid's face twisted. "You think you're tough?"
"No," Blake said honestly. "I think you're about to do something you'll regret, and I'd rather you didn't."