Page 177 of Storm Caller

Mowry shuffles to a third panel farther down the wall. Again, he begins pressing buttons and knobs, talking to himself as he receives error after error. “It isn’t working!”

“You better not be lying to us,” Fisher hisses. “If this is another ploy . . .”

“I swear to you it isn’t! I’ve told you everything. Laid myself bare. I want to end this!” Mowry has gone paler than ever. He tugs on his restraints, his body quivering with fear and stress and the guilt of his lies. He slides to the floor again, covering his head with his arms as he sobs.

“Enough of this shit,” I say, and I pick up a chair, lifting it over my head. Without hesitating, I swing, smashing it against Rook’s glass tank with every ounce of strength I can muster. It connects with a crack, glancing off the surface without leaving a scratch.

“Fuck!” I scream. Then I swing again, harder this time. The impact vibrates up my arms as the chair shatters in my hands, dropping to the floor like useless twigs. I scan the room, my chest heaving, as I search for a blunt, heavy object.

Justin picks up another chair and follows suit, slamming it against the glass until it finally chips. Everyone begins searching for random objects, picking up anything they can lift—computers, monitors, medical equipment—throwing it all against the thick glass.

“Rook!” I’m shouting, terrified he can’t be woken up. It’s only been a few days since they captured him. Are we too late?

Rage blisters through my veins, red-hot and searing.

“Stand back,” Justin says, holding up his gun.

“No! What if you hit him?” Navy says. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I won’t,” he says. “Move away.”

We all do as he asks, shuffling aside as he aims for the side of the tank.

He pulls the trigger, the explosion echoing in my ears.

The bullet strikes the glass, glancing off and embedding itself into the far wall.

But the impact has formed a web of hairline cracks.

“Yes!” I scream. “Again!”

Justin takes careful aim a second time, then fires another shot, and the cracks expand and spread.

“Stop!” booms a voice, and we all turn around to find General Sol surrounded by the four members of her Circle Guard. She looks strangely normal. Nothing like the picture of the woman Mowry painted, nearly on the brink of losing it all.

Except maybe that isn’t the truth. Her skin is pale, her eyes bloodshot and ringed by dark circles. She’s thinner than when I last saw her, too. Maybe a better person would feel some pity for all she’s had to endure, but right now, I am not that person.

I want her to burn.

“You lied to us!” I yell. “Tricked us! How could you do this!”

“Arrest them!” she says to her Guards, ignoring me. “How did you find this place?”

She scans the room, her gaze landing on Mowry where he cowers in the corner, and she goes entirely still. Several emotions pass over her expression. Pain. Regret. Sadness. Betrayal.

Her Guards advance, but I back away.

“Don’t touch me!” I scream as I pick up a lamp and start hammering at Rook’s tank, working on the weak spot Justin created.

Everyone closes in around me, clashing with the Circle Guard.

Thankfully, they’re outnumbered, and we’re definitely angrier.

“Get him out!” Justin shouts to me. “Just get him out!”

My dad appears a moment later, holding what looks like an oxygen tank.

“Move,” he says. Then he lifts his arms over his head and smashes the heavy metal tube against the glass. More cracks form, and the first drips of water leak down the side of the tank.