Page 43 of Storm of Stars
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Thorne
The moment the plane jolted to a stop, I was out of it, my boots hitting the tarmac before the engine fully powered down. My legs were heavy, stiff from yesterday’s grueling task of rebuilding the watch tower and this morning’s battle against the flames. Every muscle ached. My lungs still held the smoke. My arms trembled, more from adrenaline and desperation than fatigue.
The trial had been brutal. Not just physically, but emotionally. And I was filled with unrelenting fear and worry, not for myself, but for the people I loved. I needed to see them.Now.
I whipped my head toward the runway, scanning frantically as the other planes touched down in staggered intervals. I counted them. One. Two. Three. Four…
Where were they?
Then I spotted her.
Briar.
Relief cracked through the tension in my chest like sunlight through storm clouds. My shoulders sagged, my breath catching,and then I was running, full tilt, legs burning, dust kicking up behind me.
“Briar!” I shouted.
She turned just in time for me to crash into her, wrapping her in a desperate, aching hug. She melted into me with that same breathless relief, her arms tightening around my back. We stood like that, holding each other upright with nothing but the knowledge that we’d both made it.
“You’re okay,” I whispered into her hair, still disbelieving.
“I’m okay,” she murmured, her voice rasped and hoarse. “Just a few burns. Nothing I can’t handle.”
My hand slid down her arm, checking for injuries. Bruises. Burned fabric. It was all there. She was wounded, but standing. Alive.
“Have you found Bex? Or Ezra?” she asked.
I shook my head, already scanning the horizon again. My fingers caught hers, and we took off in sync, two shadows streaking across the landing strip.
The air still smelled like scorched wood and metal. I spotted Lark and Devrin stumbling off their planes, both of them coated in soot. Their clothes were torn, melted in places, skin blistered and blackened. But they were walking. Conscious. They’d survived.
I sprinted past them, and that’s when my eyes landed on Bex.
She was climbing down from her plane slowly, each movement deliberate. She cradled her right arm against her chest, her steps uneven. No shirt, just the soot-smeared skin of her torso beneath her black bra and a thick burn running the entire length of her arm. Blood streamed down her leg in dried rivulets. Her lips were pale. She looked like a ghost.
But she was here.
My lungs caught. My heart roared in my ears. I was running again, reaching her just as she reached the bottom step.
Without thinking, I tore off my shirt and wrapped it around her shoulders, shielding her from the staring eyes of whoever was watching us now. Her skin was hot beneath my hands. Too hot.
I didn’t hug her. I wanted to. I needed to. But I didn’t dare risk causing her more pain. Instead, I hovered my hands just above her, my fingers trembling in the space between us. Our eyes locked.
And for a moment, the world dropped away.
I had no idea how it had happened, how this woman had become my everything. But she had. Like my heart had stepped out of my chest and started walking around on two battered legs.
“I’m okay,” she said. But it didn’t sound like the truth. “I’ve got a pretty bad burn on my arm,” she added, her voice quiet, “and I lost a lot of blood from my leg, but the bleeding’s stopped now. At least, I think it has.”
Her skin was too pale. Her lips had no color. She needed help. Soon.
Briar leaned in and pressed a soft, grateful kiss to her cheek. A silent thank-you for surviving.
“Ezra?” she asked.
