Page 63 of Storm of Stars
The hall blurred. My boots slammed against concrete. I didn’t care about silence anymore, I just needed distance. Ithrew myself through the back door and didn’t stop. No guards yet. Good.
I shoved the thought down, buried it beneath the roar of blood in my ears and the thunder of my feet pounding against the ground. I couldn’t let myself imagine who the guards had reached. Who might be crumpled, lifeless, on the sterile tiles of that clinic. Not Thorne. Not Briar. Not Ezra. Not Brexlyn. God, please, not Brexlyn. But I didn’t have the luxury of fear, not now. Grief was an emotion I couldn’t afford to feel until I was safely beyond the golden gate, until I knew Praxis and its lies were behind me. Only then would I allow myself to collapse. But until that moment, I ran like my family's lives depended on it. Because they did.
If I could reach the perimeter of the city, if I could make it to the Runaways, maybe they'd have seen what I broadcasted. Maybe the world had, too.
Maybe Praxis had finally overplayed its hand.
And just maybe... When I reached that gate, I wouldn’t be alone.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Bex
We movedtoward the exit of the bus, stepping one by one into the waiting crowd. The air crackled around us with something electric, hope, tension, anticipation. Their cheers didn’t just lift me. They wrapped around me like armor.
Then a flash of movement in the crowd caught my eye. Flame-red curls parted the sea of bodies like a beacon.
Zaffir.
He stepped forward, expression lit with disbelief and joy. Relief crashed through me so hard it nearly buckled my knees.
He was safe.
The Runaways were here.
And Praxis was going down.
I ran and I didn’t stop. Not when my lungs burned. Not when the noise of the crowd blurred behind me. Not until I crashed into Zaffir’s arms.
He caught me like he’d been waiting every second of his life just to hold me again. The impact stole my breath, but I didn’t care. His arms locked around me, grounding and desperate, his face buried in the crook of my neck. His whole body shook, aquiet tremble rippling through him like he was exhaling a grief he hadn’t dared feel until now.
“Hello, beautiful,” he murmured into my skin, his voice raw, reverent. Then he pressed a kiss to my throat, gentle and trembling, a promise written in touch.
“You’re safe,” I whispered, my fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. Dark grey and soft beneath my hands. It was such a small thing, the color of his clothes, but it knocked the wind out of me. No more gold. No more silver. No more polished Praxis sheen trying to claim him.
He wasn’t theirs anymore.
He looked like himself, like the version I always knew was under the surface. He’s been one of us for a long time, but this was the first time it showed on the outside. No disguise. No uniform. Just him. Real, and here, and finally free to be who he was without having to hide it.
“So are you,” he breathed, his hands roaming down my back like he needed to map every inch of me to believe I was really there. Really whole. Really alive.
He leaned back, just enough to find my lips. The kiss was grateful, urgent, aching. I melted into it, tasting love, and relief so much that it made my knees weak. I never wanted to let go of him again.
When we finally parted, his gaze flicked past me.
To Ezra.
He stood near the bus, arms loosely crossed, his expression unreadable, like he wasn’t sure he was invited into this moment, like maybe he didn’t want to intrude. But Zaffir didn’t hesitate. He reached out with one hand.
Ezra stepped forward slowly, and then Zaffir pulled him into him. Their embrace was different, careful, but just as fierce, and when they kissed, it was like something in the air was still. Like the universe exhaled with them.
I felt something bloom in my chest. I couldn’t help the smile that broke across my face.
“Thought you were a goner there for a second,” Zaffir said, voice cracking just a little.
Ezra smirked. “And leave you unsupervised? Not a chance.”
