Page 3 of Renegades

Even in her dreams she could see her father’s hands, only now he was pulling falling stars out of the sky, stringing them together like glowing golden beads…

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ADOOR SLAMMED.

Nova awoke with a start. Evie huffed and rolled away from her.

Groggy and disoriented, Nova sat up and shook out her arm, which had fallen asleep beneath Evie’s head. The shadows in the room had shifted. There were low voices in the hallway. Papà, sounding tense. Her mom, murmuring,please, please…

She pushed off the blanket that had been draped over her and tucked it around Evie, then crept past the table where a delicate copper-colored bracelet sat abandoned, an empty space in the filigree waiting to be filled with a precious stone.

When she reached the front door, she turned the knob as slowly as she could, prying the door open just enough that she could peer out into the dim hall.

A man stood on the landing—stubble on his chin and light hair pulled into a sleek tail. He wore a heavy jacket, though it wasn’t cold outside.

He was holding a gun.

His indifferent gaze darted to Nova and she shrank back, but his attention slid back to her father as if he hadn’t even seen her.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” said Papà. He had put himself between the man and Nova’s mom. “Let me talk to him. I’m sure I can explain—”

“There’s been no misunderstanding,” the man said. His voice was low and cold. “You have betrayed his trust, Mr. Artino. He does not like that.”

“Please,” said her mom. “The children are here. Please, have mercy.”

He cocked his head, his eyes shifting between them.

Fear tightened in Nova’s stomach.

“Let me talk to him,” Papà repeated. “We haven’t done anything. I’m loyal, I swear. I always have been. And my family… please, don’t hurt my family.”

There was a moment in which it looked like the man might smile, but then it passed. “My orders were quite clear. It is not my job to ask questions… or to have mercy.”

Her father took a step back. “Tala, get the girls.Go.”

“David…,” her mother whimpered, moving toward the door.

She had barely gone a step when the stranger lifted his arm.

A gunshot.

Nova gasped. Blood arced across the door, a few drops scattering across her brow. She stared, unable to move. Papà screamed and grabbed his wife. He turned her over in his arms. He was trembling while her mom wheezed and choked.

“No survivors,” the man said in his even, quiet voice. “Those were my orders, Mr. Artino. You only have yourself to blame for this.”

Nova’s father caught sight of her on the other side of the door. His eyes widened, full of panic. “Nova. Ru—”

Another gunshot.

This time Nova screamed. Her father collapsed over her mom’s body, so close she could have reached out and touched them both.

She turned and stumbled into the apartment. Past the kitchen, into her bedroom. She slammed the door shut and thrust open her closet. Climbed over the books and tools and boxes that littered the floor. She yanked the door shut and crouched down in the corner, gasping for breath, the vision of her parents burned into her thoughts every time she shut her eyes. Too late she thought that she should have gone for the fire escape. Too late.

Too late she remembered—

Evie.

She’d left Evie out there.

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