Page 171 of Storm Caller

My father remains close on my heels, and I still don’t understand why he insisted on coming, nor why he followed me at all.

What does he want from me? Absolution? Why now?

Also, I can’t imagine that my forgiveness would matter to him.

“You okay?” he asks as we walk, and I nod. I have no idea what to say. He keeps surprising me in the most confusing ways. He kept Sol’s secrets to protect me. He covered up murders to keep his children safe. This man, who once lived and died by the order of New Manhattan. Who went to great, often inhuman lengths to punish anyone who broke The Shield’s laws.

Yet he broke so many rules to keep me safe.

“Not really,” I answer.

“We’ll . . . find him,” he says, though I sense his hesitation. He’s not quite ready to accept Rook into my life—not that it’s his decision. “I understand he means a lot to you.”

“I love him,” I say firmly. “I already told you that.”

The tunnel is so quiet that our whole party can hear every word of our conversation, but I don’t really care.

“You’re too young to know what love is,” he says. “I know you think you can trust him, but he’s dangerous.”

“How dare—” I say just as Navy stops walking and spins around, narrowing her eyes.

“That’s our brother you’re talking about,” she snaps.

She plants her hands on her hips. She’s basically a kid who barely reaches the height of my father’s shoulder, yet she’s nearly as intimidating as her own dad. Whatever her future holds, it’s obvious she’ll do great and powerful things. “He’s brave and loyal and one of the best people I know. Which is more than I can say for the present company.”

My father’s eyes widen with surprise.

Very few people have ever spoken to him this way in his life, let alone a girl from the Wastes with everything to lose.

“I’m merely looking out for my daughter,” he says, and that answer works its uncomfortable way through my chest, like I’ve swallowed a handful of wooden blocks.

There are so many things I could say in this moment. How he’s never looked out for me before. That he tried to break me. Tried to force me into killing a man, and when that didn’t work, he disowned me. He tried to force my hand in marriage. He’s hurt me on such a bone-deep level—physically and emotionally—that I’ll wear those scars for the rest of my life.

But he already knows this, and I don’t have the energy.

“Poet is a part of our family now,” Navy says. “So, excuse me if I’m looking out for her as well.”

Tears spring to my eyes at the protectiveness in her voice and the certainty that I belong with them. We only had a few weeks to get to know each other, but her words mean more to me than she could possibly understand.

My father tips his head, and Navy sniffs before she turns around and we resume our trek. We all fall silent as we wind deeper into the city’s underground. I wonder what’s happening outside. How are things going between the Veil and the armies of New Manhattan?

I try to put it out of my mind because I can’t worry about that right now.

I lose track of the time before Dr. Mowry says, “We’re almost there.” His voice is thin, strained. Like he can’t quite bear the sound of those words.

Another corner and then another, and we reach a steel door.

Throughout it all, Mowry grows increasingly agitated, sweat gathering under his collar and staining his armpits. He keeps tripping, stumbling over his feet. I’d think it was a ruse to get out of this, but I believe his anxiety is genuine.

“This is the entrance,” he says, his entire body trembling like dry leaves in a stiff breeze.

“To your lab?” Henry asks.

Mowry swallows, his throat bobbing, misery carved into the lines of his face.

“You’ll see,” he whispers. “You’ll . . . see.”

He takes a step toward the electronic key panel.