Page 2 of Storm of Stars
After Thorne’spotentially treasonous declaration, we’d all gathered in the living room, the air thick with tension. Thorne and Briar claimed the chairs across from the couch where Brexlyn and I sat, and Ezra lingered in the back, a storm barely contained, leaning against the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping him from tearing the walls down.
They were shocked when they saw the state of me. I didn’t blame them. I would be too. Even Briar, who was not my biggest fan, seemed to vibrate with worry and anger for me.
That was a pleasant shift. Not that I blamed her for her wariness toward me, considering who I was and where I was from.
I sat in front of them, my ribs still aching, voice raw from hours of pain and screams I wouldn’t give voice to now. Brexlyn was tucked into my side, her hand gripping mine like she thought I might disappear again if she let go. The weight of her pressed against me sparked a sting where my body was still tender, but it soothed something deeper, filling spaces in my soul no pain could ever reach. Thorne’s arms were crossed, buthis eyes were soft. Briar leaned forward on the edge of the couch, a crease between her brows. Ezra stood across the room, like if he got any closer he’d lose every ounce of restraint.
“What happened, Zaffir?” Briar asked.
I nodded slowly and forced a breath into my lungs. “The interview ended and I went to go upload my footage to the server. I slipped into the production office, but it had been cleared out.”
“And that’s when they took you?” Thorne asked, voice low.
“Yeah,” I said. “Guards were waiting. They grabbed me before I even saw them coming. Dragged me straight to Veritas.”
I tried to keep my voice even, measured. “She said a lot of things about me not being motivated enough to do my job right. Said she’d have to try harder to inspire me.”
Brexlyn turned in closer, her free hand resting lightly on my chest now. “What did she do to you?”
I hesitated.
“She—” My voice snagged. “She made sure I knew what it would cost if I defied her.”
There was a beat of silence, the air sharp with it.
“Zaffir,” Brexlyn whispered, her voice so soft it ached. “Please. Tell us.”
Her eyes met mine, wide, glassy, and terrified. I felt her pulse in her fingers. I felt the tremble in her body she tried to hide. And I knew, if I told her everything, every detail etched into my skin and memory,shewould carry it longer than I ever would.
She’d file it away, just like she had everything else.
So I shook my head, slowly. “No. Not to you.”
“Why?” she whispered.
I touched her cheek gently, brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “Because you’ll see it every time you look at me. And I need you to remember me likethis. Alive, holding you. Not like that.”
Her lip trembled, but she didn’t argue. She just curled into me tighter.
She never directly told me about her memory. But I’ve spent a lot of time watching people. And after scrubbing through every second of her trial footage, I started to notice it. The way her eyes tracked things, how she hesitated just a beat before speaking, like she was flipping through a mental filing cabinet.
It wasn’t obvious at first. But the more I watched, the more I realized—her brain worked differently. Sharper. Faster. That’s why I took the gamble and showed her that image of the filtration system. I didn’t know if she’d be able to memorize it. I just had a gut feeling. And it worked. She locked it in like it was nothing. Like she’d seen it a hundred times. That’s when I knew. So no, I wasn’t going to recount my torture in any more detail than needed, because I don’t want that image to be glued to her mind whenever she thought of me.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in. “I’m okay,” I said softly. “I’m here now.”
Ezra hadn’t spoken once. But I could feel him watching me like I was a grenade about to go off. His jaw was locked tight, one muscle twitching. His hands were fists at his sides, knuckles white.
When I finally went quiet, when there was nothing left to say without splintering, he turned without a word and stalked down the hall.
Brexlyn stirred against me, lifting her head. “I’ll go,” she whispered, already starting to push herself up.
But I stopped her, pressing a hand to her shoulder. “Let me,” I murmured.
She gave a small nod, settling back as I forced myself to my feet, every bruise and cracked rib a fresh reminder of the night before. I followed him down the hall.
When I pushed open the door, Ezra was pacing, a caged animal barely holding it together. His eyes, when they landed on me, were molten.
“It’s okay, Ezra,” I whispered.
