Page 3 of Storm of Stars

“They almost killed you,” he ground out, his voice low, scraped raw by fury.

I swallowed hard, wincing as the split in my lip tugged. “They didn’t.”

“But they will,” he spat, raking a hand through his hair. “They’re coming for you, and they’re coming for Bex. And you’re just sitting there acting like it’s nothing.”

I closed the door behind me. “It’s not nothing.”

“Then why the hell are you acting like it is?”

“Because we can’t afford to fall apart right now.”

Ezra’s fist lashed out, slamming into the wall. The crack of it split the air, plaster splintering under his knuckles. His face was so close to mine now that I could see the wild glint in his eyes, the flicker of something raw and wounded beneath the rage.

“Bullshit,” he hissed. “They laid hands on you. Veritas…” His voice broke around her name. “I should’ve been there. I swear to God, Zaf, I’ll burn Praxis to the ground for what they’ve done.”

And damn me, some twisted part of me wanted that. Wanted to watch him tear the world apart in my name.

“I want that too,” I whispered, my voice frayed and small. “But not yet, Ez.”

His brow knit, his fury colliding with confusion. “Why not? What are we waiting for? Just say the word.”

And God, he meant it. I could feel it in every fiber of him, in the space between us. That bone-deep promise.

I reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist before he could pull away. His hand was bleeding, knuckles split, skin hot under mine. I let my thumb trace the sharp line of bone, and watched his breath catch.

“Because Bex needs you standing,” I said, voice barely a breath. “Not broken. Not reckless. Not dead.” I breathed. “We both do.”

His gaze dropped to where my hand held his, his other fist slowly uncurled at his side.

“I can’t lose anymore family,” he murmured, the words catching in his throat.

For a long, aching moment, I didn’t speak. Then something between us shifted, softened. He leaned in, and our foreheads touched, the lightest, ghosting brush of skin.

“You’re not going to,” I whispered. A quiet, desperate vow that reached inside and wrapped around something in me I hadn’t even realized was bleeding.

I closed my eyes, let myself have that second of peace. The warmth of him. The weight of the moment. The fragile, fierce thing blooming between us that neither of us dared name yet.

When he finally pulled back, the rage in his eyes had cooled, tempered into something sharper. Protective.

When Ezra and I returned to the living room, we came shoulder to shoulder, an unspoken solidarity settled between us. I dropped carefully back into my spot on the couch, ribs screaming with every movement, my skin a patchwork of bruises, but it didn’t matter. Not now.

Brexlyn looked up the moment I sat down, her eyes finding mine. She gave me a soft, knowing smile, the kind that didn’t need words. Like she saw what I couldn’t quite say out loud yet, like she’d always known that Ezra was more than just another Challenger to me. That he meant something.

Ezra settled onto the couch beside me, his thigh brushing against mine, and for the first time since the nightmare of last night, it felt like the room had steadied. Brexlyn curled against my other side, her head tucking gently against my shoulder. Between them, I could finally breathe, even if it hurt like hell.

CHAPTER

TWO

Thorne

The quiet stretched,thick and suffocating, pressing in on all sides like the walls themselves were leaning closer to hear. No one moved, no one breathed too loud.

Then I cleared my throat, and it sounded too loud in the tense stillness. I glanced around at the people in front of me, shoulders tight, a fire burning in my chest that hadn’t dimmed since my childhood.

“So…” Zaffir started, my voice cutting through the heaviness. “Should we talk about what you said, Thorne?”

I swallowed heavily.