Page 179 of Stormbreaker

Greta lost everything because of me. She grew up without a mother.

And my father . . . Every time I think he can’t get any crueler, he surprises me in the worst possible way.

I guess we’ve both had our secrets to keep.

65

With just a few days until the graduation masquerade, the school descends into a flurry of final exams and event preparation.

I spend half my time with Domino and Journey, shopping for dresses and planning our night, and the other half designing the break-in with Rook and Edward.

Our little “project” seems to have invigorated Edward. He’s animated again, coming up with ideas and theories, downloading maps, and scoping possible entrances and exits. He even paid a visit to Trinity’s parents and swiped a key card from Mr. Robins so we can access his office and, more importantly, his computers, once we get inside.

Throughout it all, I try to be normal. I try not to let that encounter with Greta in the tunnels throw me off. Raine was a Keeper, and now he’s gone. He left me and never confessed. I’m desperate to ask my mother what she knows, but I can’t put it into a text that could be monitored by The Shield.

She’ll be at the masquerade, and I’m hoping I can talk to her then.

I also haven’t shared what Greta told me with Rook. I’m not sure what’s holding me back. I’m ashamed of what happened. It feels like some of this was my fault.

I do plan to ask Edward if he can look for information about Raine’s death once he hacks the government computers. I need to know if there’s more to the story than we’ve been told.

I also don’t tell Rook that my father might know I’m a Keeper. Maybe Greta was mistaken? Maybe it was something she told herself to villainize him. Whatever the case, I’m not ready to discuss it yet—with anyone.

It’s the night before the party, and I’m tossing and turning. Dreaming of long tunnels and shadows snatching me from darkened corners. My mother’s face and a string of bruises on her neck. Rook being thrown off cliffs and high towers.

Then someone is gently shaking me awake.

“Poet.” Rook’s deep voice slices through the dark. “Wake up.”

My eyes pop open, and I stare up at him, disoriented, breathing heavily.

“You were calling out,” he says.

I sink back into the pillow and brush a piece of hair from my forehead. “Nightmares.”

He drops down to the side of my bed. “You okay?”

“Just anxious about tomorrow, I think.”

He takes my hand and holds it close to his chest. “Makes sense.”

“Will you lie with me?” I ask, and he nods.

“Of course.”

He climbs over me and settles on the far side against the wall.

“The storm isn’t helping,” I whisper. A bright flash illuminates the window, a soft amethyst glow highlighting the contours of his face and reflecting in the piercing in his brow. We haven’t had an opportunity to visit the outskirts with everything going on, and the incessant itching is starting to get to me.

“I know,” he whispers back. “We’ll head out as soon as this is over.”

We. He says it so casually, but I think this is what we’re becoming.

We. Us.

It’s at that moment that I feel connected to him by more than just the touch of our hands and the brush of our knees. We are bound by this secret that draws a line between us despite every difference and every barrier. An understanding forged from the need to spend a lifetime hiding in the light. Maybe if we’re successful tomorrow, we won’t have to hide anymore.

I smile and reach out to touch his cheek before resting my hand on his chest, the rapid thump of his heart vibrating up my arm. He closes his eyes and exhales softly, his fingers trailing against my stomach. I turn ever so slightly toward him.