Page 140 of Storm Caller

Flanked by two Patrol officers, I’m escorted back to Amery, where Dean Withers greets me.

“Welcome back,” she says with a sniff. “How was your night?”

“Just splendid,” I say. “Thanks for asking.”

Her answer is a narrow-eyed glare.

“Let her go,” she says to the Patrols. “I think she’s learned her lesson.”

Not at all, but I guess it suits me for everyone to believe that. I would have fought for Rook a thousand times, whatever the consequences. My only regret is that I didn’t do the same for Journey.

While I lay on my cot last night, all I could do was picture both of their faces. Journey’s as she was dragged away, and Rook’s agonized regret right before he ran. I know he didn’t want to leave me, but he had no choice.

And General Sol. She was there yesterday. She told her Guards to arrest Rook. Threatened them if he got away. Why? What’s going on? I need to speak with her, but I have no idea how. I’m getting the sick sense we’ve walked into a trap, but I can’t even begin to guess where it starts or how it ends.

I follow the dean into the main hall, where small groups are huddled together, speaking in low voices. I’m sure everyone knows someone who was taken yesterday. It gets harder and harder to ignore trouble when it announces itself at your front door, knocking over furniture and bleeding across the rug. I know that better than most.

Among the students, I spot at least two dozen Patrols and half as many Extinguishers manning the room’s perimeter.

We’re surrounded.

Constantly under watch.

I wonder how many people joined the E-squad when The Shield opened their doors to every citizen in New Manhattan. I’ve heard the numbers are high. So many people are eager to dole out this sick form of “justice.” But when people remain powerless for long enough, they’ll do anything to carve their own place in the world. Even if it means supporting the very system that’s made them suffer.

If only they understood that they’ll never really earn The Shield’s favor. That as soon as they’re no longer useful, they’ll be cast aside, or worse.

I stare out the tall windows, wondering for the millionth time where Rook ended up. I don’t even know if he escaped. They might have captured him. He could already be in a cell, subjected to who knows what.

He might already be dead.

With any luck, he’s hiding out. If anyone can take care of himself on the run, it’s Rook.

At the far end of the hall, several people are huddled around a large screen set into the wall. It’s tuned to a news broadcast where a picture of Rook’s face flashes across the screen.

Immediately, I’m moving closer.

“Dangerous criminal.”

“On the loose.”

“Report any suspicious sightings.”

I heave out a conflicted sigh of relief, pressing my hand to my throat. He’s out there. They haven’t captured him yet. That means he’s still alive.

My hand slides to my chest as I attempt to calm my racing heart. I’m jittery and anxious. Stretched taut from a lack of sleep.

Rook must be lying low in one of the tunnels. I need to get a message to the Fog. Maybe they can help him.

Then another thought occurs to me.

One that has me trembling.

What if he left the city entirely? Maybe he decided none of this was worth it.

That I’m not worth it.

Maybe he’s already on his way home, where he belongs and where he’ll be safe.