Page 103 of Splitting Secrets
“Why not?” He turns to face me, grabbing my hands in his. “You went over a decade without your parents, so they could build this. You risked everything to come to Ravenshurst and steal those journals. You nearly died in a prison cell and when you were given your escape, you risked your life to set your friends free, too. You’ve earned your spot here. You deserve their respect, and they want to give it to you.”
“None of my struggles are worse than anyone else’s. Especially yours..” I pause, nodding my head toward him. “You deserve their respect more than I do.”
“That’s the thing about the rebellion, Little Nightmare. We each respect each other equally.”
I wouldn’t have believed him if he tried to tell me that before—when the only people I had spoken to were his mother and Theo. But over these past few weeks, as I’ve witnessed the way they’ve all been there to provide support and resources to me and my friends while we calibrated to going from prisoners to soldiers, I’ve felt nothing but respect. From Griffin dedicating hours to our training, to the nameless healers who have provided us with tonics to accelerate our progress. Even Quinn was generous, in her own odd way.
This is a movement of people working toward one common goal that will benefit them as a whole. Not a group of elites that use their constituents as stepping stones to feed their own wealth or power. And regardless of the outcome of this day, I believe we’re already on the winning side. Even if the rebellion loses this time, we’ll continue to fight. We’ll continue to rally for the people who don’t have the power or resources to do it for themselves. We’ll continue to search for ways to return the power back to the people.
Because no matter how ruthless a leader you are, you can't kill off the spirit of community. There will always be more of us than there are of them, and it’s about time they realize that.
My parents break from their huddle, several people breaking off in different directions to relay whatever information they just discussed. They walk up to me and Raze, unable to see Poppy’s apparition standing beside me.
“Are you ready?” My father asks me. He looks like he’s aged years in a matter of hours. Worry lines crease his forehead, his mouth turned down in a permanent frown.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” My hands hang loosely at my sides, brushing against the sheaths I strapped to my thighs this morning.
Griffin gifted them to all four of us a couple of days ago, along with an arsenal of knives to strap into them and new leather pants and jackets that move easily with our bodies.
“Stay back until we give you the signal,” my mom reminds me for the millionth time. I nod my agreement.
The energy of the crowd plummets, every single person spinning on their heels. My chest quakes with the shiftfrom nervous anticipation to unadulterated fear, pulling our attention back to Nocturne Valley.
It’s so quiet that when the gates of Ravenshurst University slowly open, we can hear the groaning iron echo off the buildings and street signs standing between us.
We collectively inhale a breath, then hold it as the gates fall to the side and reveal the sea of faces standing behind it.
The Midnight Syndicate.
Their numbers are smaller, but we aren’t fooled by that. They’ve ensured their gifts are far more potent.
I’m not sure if I’m capable of carrying the weight of their expectations for me. If what Raze says is true, and all those people believeI’mtheir greatest threat, I don’t know how I’ll be able to fight them off.
“You’ve got this,” Poppy whispers at my side, likely sensing my doubt. “You’re going to survive this day and save millions of lives in the process.”
The gates reach their limit, bouncing off the stone pillars holding them in place. As if they’re one unit, the Midnight Syndicate takes their first step toward us.
52
Sonny
Time seems to both rush past and stand still as opposite sides move toward one another.
My heart races against my chest so intensely that I can feel my pulse pumping from my temples to my toes. Breathing is impossible through the fist that’s wrapped around my lungs, making me feel lightheaded with every step.
I’m absolutely terrified.
But I’m still pushing forward, drawing on the strength of everyone around me to face my fear.
Raze appears as he always does—his face set in a determined, almost bored glare. Shadows swirl around at his feet, jumping forward like dogs nipping at the heels of the people walking ahead of us.
There is no hesitation when the two front lines collide. It’s an immediate attack from both sides, a meshing of prim and proper elites and the average working class man or woman.
From there, everything moves at hyperspeed.
Raze and I remain glued together through the fray, fighting against our enemies back-to-back. If I get too caught up with someone, his shadows reach out and debilitate them long enough for me to make my fatal strike. If he gets swarmed, I reach into the minds of his aggressors and debilitate them.
I’ve never seen so much death. Never experienced this much despair. Blood and gore stain the cobblestone streets, lifeless bodies lying around in heaps. Shattered glass sprays everywhere as storefronts are broken into and looted.
