Page 14 of Storm of Stars (Pride of Praxis #2)

Thorne dragged a hand through his hair, his expression darkening.

“And if you don’t?” Briar asked.

The words stuck in my throat. But I forced them out. “She’ll kill him.”

The moment they left my lips, a sob broke free. I collapsed against the counter, the grief and fear threatening to crush me. Zaffir was there in an instant, arms around me, pulling me close, holding me together when I was breaking apart.

“Shhh… shhh, it’s alright. I’ve got you,” he murmured against my hair, though his voice trembled too.

“What are we going to do now?” Briar asked, scanning the room, the question slicing through the silence like a blade.

“We call it off,” Thorne said, his voice quiet but resolute.

We all turned to him, stunned.

“What?” I croaked.

“We knew it was a risk. We knew Praxis wouldn’t sit idle if they caught wind of this. But she’s made a direct threat now, love.” His eyes found mine, so heartbreakingly kind and full of regret. “I won’t ask you to choose between your brother and my mother’s rebellion. That isn’t a choice.”

I hated the way he looked at me, like I’d already made the decision to surrender. Like the fight had drained from me. But hadn’t it? Could I risk Jax’s life for this? Could I live with myself if I didn’t?

And yet… I could feel it. That rising heat. That storm gathering inside my chest. The same storm Veritas had seen, and feared. She was afraid. It may have been hidden behind her threats and calm demeanor. But the truth of it was there, clear and vivid. She was afraid.

And I couldn’t risk losing that momentum.

“I don’t want to stop,” I said. The words were true, but it felt like ash on my tongue. “I just… I wish I could tell Ava and Jax. Get them out. Warn them.”

“Maybe you can,” Thorne murmured.

I looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to the bag slung over Zaffir’s back. “People from every Collective are in there. Eyes in every shadow. You send word, and they’ll find your family. They’ll hide them.”

“You really think it’ll work?”

“I do,” he replied.

Zaffir was already unzipping the bag, pulling out the device. His fingers flew across the keys, breaking through encrypted firewalls, bypassing passwords. Opening the locked doors that the rebellion hid behind. He opened the message system and slid it toward me.

My hands shook as I typed.

‘ Runaways. I need your help. I need someone to find Jax Hollis and Ava Torvich in Canyon. Praxis plans to use him against me. Hide them. Protect them. Get him and his guardian to safety. The guards are coming. Don’t let them win. Not when we’re so close.’

Zaffir hit send.

We waited, the seconds stretching unbearably long.

Then one by one, replies started to pour in.

Dozens. Hundreds. A flood of strangers pledging to help us.

To find him and protect him. Anonymous names I didn’t know.

Chances were they weren’t Canyon… considering we didn’t have this technology there. But maybe word could spread.

And then one message appeared that made my breath catch.

‘ He is safe with me. Where we’re hiding, they’ll never find us. I’ll protect him until you can come home to us. Love, always. -A’

“Ava…” I whispered her name. A sob tore itself from my chest, raw and trembling, not from fear this time, but from a fierce, aching relief that I could barely contain.

“She’s a Runaway. How…” I stammered, wiping at my face uselessly.

“I mean, we don’t even have technology in Canyon. We don’t have access to any of this.”

“Maybe she’s not in Canyon anymore,” Briar offered gently, her voice threading through my panic. “She said she’s in hiding now, didn’t she?”

“According to the thread,” Thorne said, picking up from her and turning the computer toward me, “the low-tech Collectives still participate. They have chapters. It’s just…different. More analog. Symbols. Stories. Art.”

He clicked through a few images until one stopped me cold.

A street mural, painted right on the cracked pavement of Canyon’s Market Row, a moth, shimmering with vibrant purples and blues, wings spread wide like it was ready to carry dreams on its back.

I knew that moth. I’d seen it. Walked past it a hundred times without really seeing it.

And Ava…she loved moths.

The memories rushed in, unbidden and sharp, almost painful in their clarity.

The tattoo on her wrist dedicated to the memory of her brother.

Nights sitting on the roof of the shed behind her house, our fingers tracing patterns in the sky as she’d whisper about the stars, about stories that deserved more than endings forced on them by the Run.

About her brother. Her voice, soft and secretive, “The stars are still ours, Bex. No one can take that.”

All the tiny moments I’d overlooked, all the things she said that had seemed sweet or strange but harmless at the time, they crashed over me now with new meaning.

When I left for the Run, she’d hugged me so tightly I thought she'd never let go. “May the stars shine on you, Bex,” she’d said, voice shaking. I thought it was just a goodbye. I hadn't understood then.

But now, it was so obvious. She hadn’t just been wishing me well. She’d been sending me off with a code, a Runaway blessing.

“She’s a Runaway,” I said again, the words steady and sure this time, no longer a question, no longer a wonder. They felt right in my mouth. Like they had always been true and I was just finally catching up.

“She’s been keeping him safe,” Thorne said, his voice low but certain as he stepped closer and placed a grounding hand on my shoulder.

His thumb pressed lightly into my skin, a silent reminder that I wasn’t alone in this.

Ava had found a way to fight back, even from inside a place like Canyon.

Even when the world said she couldn't. She’d fought with paint, with whispers, with stories, with stars.

I wiped my eyes, turning back to them. “If I don’t play Veritas’ game tonight…if she can’t go after him. She’ll go after us. Things are going to get worse. These trials will become deadly.”

“They already are,” Ezra said. “It’s time for those stars to shine,” he finished in a low, dangerous whisper.

We stood in a quiet circle, eyes moving from one face to the next. And in that stillness, I saw them...really saw them. These people have become my family. Chosen. Earned. Loved.

I wanted to protect them.

I wanted to save them.

I wanted to build a world where we could live without fear thrumming under our skin, without the constant dread of Praxis at our backs. A world where we could breathe freely and laugh loudly and touch without paying for it in blood and death.

This choice would put us in danger. It would make targets of all of us. But we’d made it through so much already. We could survive this too, as long as we had each other. And it was important.

I stepped forward and took my time, pressing soft, reverent kisses to each of their lips like I was sealing a vow.

Thorne tasted of the woods, pine and smoke and something grounding.

Briar was rain through trees, cool and soothing, a balm.

Ezra, sharp and burning like whiskey, left warmth lingering on my tongue.

And Zaffir was floral and light, once a scent reminiscent of the Praxis amenities, but now... now it was just him. Something reclaimed. Something real.

That was the kind of reclamation I believed in. Taking back the pieces Praxis had stolen, the scents, the symbols, the parts of ourselves they had tried to brand with their ownership and making them ours again.

I caught the subtle moment Zaffir reached for Ezra’s hand, fingers curling around his, a gentle squeeze shared between them. Their eyes met, and though no words passed between them, the depth of feeling did. I could feel it too.

I wanted peace for them. I wanted Zaffir to be able to love both of us openly, without guilt or fear. I wanted Ezra’s name to be cleared. I wanted to finish what Thorne and Briar’s mother began.

We didn’t speak as we left the room.

We didn’t need to.

We walked together, step by step, toward the stage.

Toward the choice that would change everything.

Toward the spark that might finally light the fire.