Page 100 of Storm of Stars
I didn’t know what home was anymore. I hoped we could find it someday. Or make a new one. But I did know that no matter where we ended up, as long as I had my Wildguard, then there would be happiness.
Zaffir pushed open one of the heavy double doors, and it gave a soft, tired groan. The room beyond was dark, nearly pitch black, except for a faint shimmer from the domed ceiling above. He pulled me inside, and as the door clicked shut, my eyes began to adjust. Slowly, the darkness revealed itself, a ceiling littered with stars. Not just a handful, but countless tiny lights, swirling and twinkling like a living masterpiece.
I drew in a breath, brushing a hand across my mouth. “What is this place?” I asked, voice soft and awestruck.
Ezra stepped closer, brushing the back of my hand as he tilted his head toward the dome. “It’s called a planetarium,” he said quietly, brushing a finger toward the giant lens that rose from the center of the room. “With this device, you can watch whole galaxies move. See the universe as it was meant to be seen.”
Zaffir’s hand tightened around mine, tugging me to the center where he’d laid a blanket out across the floor. A picnic basket waited for us, and as I sank down beside it, Ezra followed, brushing a hand across my knee.
“Just so you know,” Zaffir said with a wink, “I was informed to tell you these sandwiches are courtesy ofRestaurante De La Grey.”
I smiled so hard it hurt as I sank down, brushing a hand across the blanket. Ezra sank down beside me, brushing a warm hand across my thigh.
“I don’t even know what to say,” I whispered, brushing a hand across my mouth as I looked between the two of them and then up at the stars.
“Then don’t say anything yet,” Zaffir said, brushing a knuckle down my jaw. “I have more to show you.”
He rose, crossed to a nearby terminal, and pressed a few keys. Suddenly, a soft hum resonated through the room, and music floated down from hidden speakers. Gentle strings and soft piano surrounded us, filling the space until it felt like the stars themselves were singing.
“Close your eyes for a moment,” Zaffir said quietly, brushing my hand as he sank down beside us. I did as he asked. “And when you open them… I want you to see yourself the way I always have.”
I drew in a breath and opened my eyes.
The ceiling came alive. The stars winked out, replaced by a montage of moments, moments I hadn’t even noticed he was capturing. My reflection winked down at me. At first, it was a shot of me from the night of the vote in Canyon, worried and brushing hair from my forehead. Then another, sitting on the train, tears streaking down as I spoke about my brother. Another as Nova’s hands framed my face, brushing color across my skin. Another still, laughing openly, wildly. Moments when my jaw was set, when my chin rose and my voice refused to falter.
Each moment rolled across the dome like a whisper of who I was. Or who I had always wanted to be. They were pieces of a person he’d witnessed every step of the way. My breath hitched as the montage ended and the stars winked back to life, swirling and burning brighter than before.
For a moment, I didn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The sting of tears blurred the stars above. Then I turned sharply, launched myself into Zaffir’s arms, and wrapped myself around him.
“Thank you,” I breathed, pressing my forehead to his. “Thank you for seeing the real me…even when I couldn’t.”
He sank into the embrace, brushing a hand down my spine until it came to rest low on my hip. Then he pulled back just enough for our eyes to find each other. Those golden irises shimmered in the starlight, soft and burning, and then he was kissing me, long and slow and deep, stealing the breath from my lungs.
A sound bubbled low in my chest as I opened for him, his tongue brushing the seam of my mouth until I yielded.
Beside us, I felt Ezra’s hand glide down the line of my spine. Grounding, warm, certain. The stars basked us in shimmering light in a moment that felt as infinite as the galaxies sprawling across the dome.
“I have something for you too, beautiful,” Ezra said quietly, brushing a hand down the curve of my spine. When I turned to him, I noticed the set of keys hanging from his long fingers, winking in the soft light. My breath caught as I looked from the keys to his smiling face.
“What…” I stammered, blinking down at them. “What is this?”
He pressed the keys into my palm and folded my fingers around them. “The keys to our cabin.”
I gaped, brushing a thumb across the metal. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if ‘home’ will ever look like it used to,” Ezra said slowly, brushing hair from my cheek, “and after Kade died, ‘home’ stopped being Canyon for me. This place…” He waved loosely toward the room we were in. “This place was never going to be home. But you, Bex? You have always and will always be my home.” His eyes flicked to Zaffir over my shoulder. “You both will.”
Zaffir smiled then, brushing a hand along Ezra’s jaw as Ezra glanced down at him. “And Thorne and Briar,” Ezra added, brushing a finger under my chin, “and Ava. And Jax. You’re my family. All of you. Whatever we build from here on out, it starts with that.”
I pressed the keys to my chest, unable to find words as he went on. “I talked with Edgar. I told him we were happy to help him get the world back on its feet, but I also made it clear that we needed a place for ourselves. So he gave us the Challengers’ village.”
“The village?” I asked, voice rising as if I hadn’t heard right.
“Every single cabin there is ours to fill, ours to make a home. There’s one for Ava. One for Jax and you. And this one…” He tapped the second key resting in my palm. “This one is ours. The Wildguard. The place where we found each other, where we learned who we were to each other and what we could become. Where we learned to trust and forgive and laugh and live. The place where this family came from. This key is for us, Bex.”
My fingers shook as I clenched both keys tight. The sting of tears blurred my vision until I was looking at him and Zaffir through a mist of emotion. Ezra smiled, brushing the pad of his thumb across my wet cheek.
“This is the home that matters now,” he said softly. “This family is what matters now.”
