Page 147 of Stormbreaker

“I think we draw a lot of attention, especially when we’re together.”

“Yeah,” I say, realizing that I might be drawing the eyes of the Extinguishers straight to him. “It’s safer for you.”

“Right.” He nods. “For you, too, Poet.”

I don’t want to agree with him. But my mother’s texts sit in my thoughts, reminding me this is probably for the best.

“Right,” I echo. “Of course.”

He stands from the bed, and I realize he’s wearing a T-shirt and shorts.

“Where are you going?”

“To the gym.”

“But we have the day off.”

He sighs and rakes a hand through his hair, ruffling it to annoying perfection. “Yeah, I need to work off some . . . energy.”

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll see you later?” I can’t keep the hopeful tone out of my voice. If we’re distancing from each other, I should probably find somewhere else to sleep.

But I don’t know where, and more importantly, I don’t really want to.

His expression doesn’t convey pity, but it definitely closes down any invitation to further communication. Okay, hint taken. I’m a danger to him and myself if we keep drawing attention to ourselves.

“Have a good workout,” I say, and he nods before he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I stare at it for a minute, mourning the brief bit of happiness I experienced last night.

I thought I’d made a new friend, but he, too, has walked away, leaving me on my own.

53

Rook remains true to his word, and over the next couple of weeks, we barely speak. He returns to our room late, often when I’m already asleep, and is gone when I wake up. I wonder where he spends all his time.

We eat on opposite sides of the cafeteria, where he sits alone, and I join Domino and Journey. For once, I’m thankful for Journey’s stream of observations because I don’t have to come up with anything to say.

Trinity and I exchange hellos as we pass each other, but that proposed hangout never materializes. She’s still spending time with Brick, despite knowing what he did to me. It hurts, but I push it away, determined not to let it bother me.

My wrist heals, the bandages are removed, and I return to my full training routine. My fellow Aria members still aren’t friendly, but they seem to have embraced begrudging tolerance.

And maybe what Henry claimed about Storm Guard loyalty before Society is partly true, as a few other cadets begin to soften, ever so slightly, toward me. One can only hold a pointless grudge—and I’m convinced it’s entirely pointless—for so long while spending countless hours sweating, fighting, and growing in one another’s company.

The artificial lines erected between us hold no real weight when held under scrutiny. It’s not everything I hope for yet, but it feels like a future with Aria is possible.

Another week later, Domino, Journey, and I arrive to find out we’re heading on a field trip to the Tempestade, where we’ll witness Breakers in training and join in some of their drills. Everyone chatters excitedly until a chorus of pinging chimes draws everyone’s attention to their devices.

An emergency news bulletin has arrived announcing that a dozen people were found murdered in the square outside the Citadel this morning. We all look up, staring in the direction of where it happened. Just steps away from where we stand.

The bulletin goes on to describe the bodies as violently disfigured and dismembered, and I cover my mouth as bile churns in the back of my throat. Our excited talk turns to horrified whispers as Henry and our other trainers confer in low voices. The article isn’t naming suspects yet, but it assures us that The Shield is investigating the matter thoroughly. Everyone is asked to remain vigilant for any suspicious activity related to these deaths.

“Cadets!” Henry shouts over our heads. “I understand this is troubling news, but I think it’s best we remain focused on our usual routine. If anything, this impresses upon us the need to ensure you’re trained to the highest standard.”

Everyone nods as we slowly shuffle out the doors, passing the plaza where lines of bright yellow tape have cordoned off the area. Several members of The Shield’s Circle Guard move among lumps covered in white sheets.

The bodies.

I come to a stop, unable to tear my eyes away, imagining the horrors underneath.

A hand rests on the small of my back. “Don’t look,” Rook says in a low voice, and it’s silly that I’m relieved he’s talking to me at all. This is a horrible reason to break our silence. “Just keep walking.”