Page 30 of Stormbreaker

Between the itching from the storm and the adrenaline in my veins, I could barely lie still. I tossed and turned while Winter and Lacey snored softly from their corners. I kept thinking about what I did. I intentionally tested for Aria just to piss off my father. He’s going to lose his shit. Skies, I wonder if there’s any chance he won’t find out. Probably wishful thinking.

I slap a hand over my face and groan.

All my anxiousness is compounded by the fact that Trinity’s bed remains empty.

I check the cut on my side that I bandaged up last night using the first aid kit I found in the bathroom. Thankfully, it was shallow, but my torso is covered in bruises from the ropes. Then I quickly shower and change before heading for the cafeteria and filling my tray, while trying to avoid everyone’s stares.

I’m sure I’m not imagining the way they’re all looking and whispering behind their hands, suggesting the news is already making its way through Amery’s halls. I silently curse. I knew I couldn’t keep this a secret for long, but I was hoping I’d have at least a day or two before everyone found out. I wonder if my father already knows.

Our phones all ding with The Shield’s early-morning pledge, and everyone grows quiet, listening to the emotionless female voice reminding us of our duty to New Manhattan and our Houses. My cheeks warm at the pointed reminder of what I did last night, as I feel every eye in the room fall on me. When it’s over, I stare at my tray, willing myself not to cry. I don’t deserve the luxury of tears. I did this to myself.

After it’s over, I search for a spot to sit. Deciding I don’t want anyone’s company, I find an empty seat, dropping my tray on the table. I grab my fork and am listlessly picking at my food when a hand cinches my wrist.

I freeze, peering up at Knox, who’s staring me down with a grim expression that can’t mean anything good.

“We need to talk,” he says, pulling me up from my seat and dragging me through the crowd. “Now.”

“Knox!” I shout as I stumble over my feet, his hand squeezing hard enough to make me wince. We exit the cafeteria, and Knox looks left and right before pulling us into a narrow corridor and pressing me against the wall.

“What did you do last night?” he asks, leaning in and getting in my face, causing my pulse to jump. “Do you have any idea how stupid you’ve made me look?”

I grit my jaw, realizing he isn’t worried about me; he’s just worried about himself.

I have no explanation for him. And even if I did, the words sit lodged in my throat. I’m hyperaware of his touch. Of the lack of space between us and the unyielding wall against my back. My breath grows shallow, my gaze darting past him, searching for an escape.

“Poet,” he says, leaning close enough for me to inhale the nauseating scents of hot sauce and eggs and coffee on his breath. “Explain yourself.”

I open my mouth, hoping for something, anything I can say to soothe him. But my throat is still too tight. Knox must finally realize the effect he’s having on me, because he steps back, rolling his eyes.

“You ran the tower of fire.”

“I did,” I say, voice measured.

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

“I couldn’t kill that man,” I say, finding my voice now that I have the space to breathe. My heart still skitters in my chest, but I’m familiar enough with the feeling to ignore it.

He blinks and straightens, backing into the other wall with a thump. “You couldn’t kill him,” he says dully, like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “He’s just a fucking criminal. Who cares?”

“I do!” I shout back. “That isn’t justice!”

“Keep your voice down,” he says, looking past the hall where a few stragglers are clearly trying to eavesdrop. “Get the fuck out of here,” he tells them, and they scurry away before he rounds on me again.

“It’s fine,” I say, ducking past him and ignoring the tightness in my chest, knowing that Knox apparently has no qualms about killing another human being. He really will make the perfect leader of House Fiama someday. “I’ll make it up on the next tests.”

Knox inhales a long breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. I note the vein pulsing in his forehead, deriving a grim sort of satisfaction from knowing I’m the source.

“If they’ll even allow that,” he says, as something desperate flashes across his expression.

“They will. They said I had to pass two out of three. Other people have switched after the first test.” My voice is small.

“Our entire futures are riding on this, Poet. I can’t marry a member of Aria, and I certainly can’t lead House Fiama with one as my wife.”

Not our futures, his.

Again, I nod silently as he tugs a hand through his hair. “I thought you’d be fine on your own, but you’re staying in my sight from now on,” he adds. “I’ll walk you to class, and you’ll wait for me to pick you up. Meals are with me, and you’re only alone when you’re asleep. Got it?”

No. No no no. I open my mouth to protest, but he rushes toward me, caging me in.