Page 49 of Supernova

Adrian didn’t move for a long minute, and she wondered if that was the first speck of doubt she saw entering his eyes. Then he scoffed, though not as aggressively as before. “The point is, we’re… grateful.” It seemed to pain him to say the word, and he didn’t look at her when he did. “My fathers and I. And in return for helping Max, we’ve agreed to give you a chance to have your execution changed to a life sentence of neutralization and imprisonment.”

A sarcastic response filled her mouth. She wasn’t entirely sure which option she preferred at the moment.

But she thought of Genissa Clark, who was probably gleeful to act as Nightmare’s executioner, and she choked the sarcasm back down.

“Under one condition,” he continued. “You tell us where to find Ace Anarchy’s helmet, the Vitality Charm, and the rest of the Anarchists. Tell me where they are, and we will spare your life.”

She held his gaze and he held hers, as her heart shriveled behind her rib cage. All thoughts left her, leaving the inside of her head cavernous and echoing only with his words.

Sweet, compassionate Adrian Everhart.

Sketch.

A Renegade and, truly now, her enemy.

“Just tell me where they are, Nova. Please. I don’t…” His face crumpled, and it was as though she were watching him at war with himself. The battle between his loathing for Nightmare, and whatever he had once felt for Nova McLain.

Hatred battling affection.

Fury battling compassion.

Back and forth and back again.

“I don’t want to watch them kill you… Nova.” The whisper was so faint she barely heard it over the speaker that connected them. “Despite everything you’ve done… I don’t…”

Her pulse skipped with surprising, unwarranted hope.

Not hope that she might escape punishment, but rather, hope that Adrian might still care for her. Even believing that she was Nightmare. She’d been sure, all along, that any feelings Adrian had for her would vanish the moment he knew the truth. Was it possible there was some thorn of endearment still lodged in his heart?

He gave himself a sudden shake. “Because you helped Max,” hesaid again, firmly. “And because, even if you were acting as a spy, you actually did do some good as a Renegade. You killed the Detonator and protected those people at Cosmopolis. You rescued that kid from the fire at the library. Even if it was all an act, it counts for something. So just… tell us where you hid the helmet and the Vitality Charm. Tell us what you know about the rest of the Anarchists. That’s all you have to do, and you won’t have to die.”

Even though he was bargaining for her life, and even though Nova knew what her next words would be, that slim flicker of hope was persistent. She had come to know Adrian Everhart well enough to know there was more to this offer than the practical explanations he was giving her. The truth was evident behind the dark frames of his glasses, and it made her chest swell to the point of bursting.

At least a teeny, tiny part of Adrian still cared for her.

It changed nothing. And it changed everything.

Staring into the eyes that had mesmerized her for these past months, Nova was happy, so very happy, that she didn’t have to lie to him again.

“Thank you, Adrian,” she whispered. “Thank you for at least… wanting me to have a chance. You don’t know what that means to me. But the truth is, I don’t have any idea where the charm is or the helmet or any of the Anarchists. I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”

His expression fell and, after a long silence, Adrian gave a solemn nod. He started to turn away.

“Adrian?”

He paused, his gaze meeting hers after a short hesitation.

Nova swallowed. “It was real,” she whispered. “I hope you know that.”

He watched her, unflinching, expressionless. Finally, he said, “I wish I could believe that, Nova. But we both know it’s just one more lie.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“WHEN DID YOUstart to suspect her?” asked Adrian. His feet were up on Max’s hospital bed, a sketchbook in his lap.

He was working on a new tattoo design. A heart surrounded by the impenetrable turrets of a stone tower.

He hadn’t figured out exactly what powers the tattoo would imbue, but the entire ordeal with Nova—no, Nightmare—had left him shaken and hollowed out and vulnerable. He’d considered transforming into the Sentinel just to feel the security of the armor on his body. The protection of anonymity. A barrier between him and the world.

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