Page 204 of Stormbreaker

It takes a few seconds before I feel a cool breeze, and starlight filters around the cracks.

With Rook’s hand clasped in mine, I watch in amazement as my world shifts again.

It takes another second for the door to finish opening before I’m standing on the threshold of . . . the Wastes.

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Rook presses me forward, through the opening, and then I’m standing on the outside of my world with only trees and earth and rocks stretching in every direction.

The storm has cleared. I’ve never been so . . . free, and yet, the air sticks in my lungs, nearly choking me.

Rook is right behind me, and I spin around to snatch a glimpse of the Guards on the other side. I see Knox. His twisted face. His hair falling in his eyes. What is he doing with them?

They’re approaching, shouting at us. Telling us to stop.

Rook flips another switch, and the door begins to close.

The cavern shakes, rocks tumbling down. I realize it’s been designed to cave in.

My gaze locks on Knox, and I see so much written on his face.

I wish . . . I don’t know what I wish exactly, other than I wish things hadn’t turned out the way they did. I wish we could have stayed friends. I wish he hadn’t humiliated me. I wish . . . this all could have been easier.

Everything is happening in slow motion but also at light speed as the tunnel shakes, the ceiling falls, and the door closes and then seals shut. A roar punctuates the air, and I know—I just know the cavern has started collapsing.

I cover my mouth, stumbling back, tripping over the edges of my tattered skirt and landing in the dirt.

The rumble of stone fills the air, and I will them to run. I know they were after us, but I don’t want anyone else to die. There’s nothing I can do. Just watch.

It takes about a minute while I try not to picture what’s happening.

Then everything goes silent save the crackle of settling stone.

The rush of the wind.

A moment later, it’s over.

Stillness surrounds us, giving me a moment to catch up.

“Are they . . .” I ask in a whisper.

Rook is on his hands and knees, his head hanging, one of our bags lying on the parched grass. “I don’t know,” he grits out.

I crawl over to Rook, shirking off the pack I was wearing. “Knox was there. I saw him.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “It was the only way to make sure they couldn’t follow.”

We both glance at the door, the nondescript wall of rock belying everything that just happened.

That’s when I start shaking. My limbs tremble, my heart pounds, and I clutch my chest, my lungs turning to lead.

“Poet,” Rook whispers as he collapses onto his back. “Poet, it’s okay.”

“Where’s the city?” I ask. “Where is New Manhattan?”

I feel untethered, unmoored, like I’m coming apart and drifting away into nothing.

The city and its barriers are the only things I’ve ever known.