Page 28 of Storm of Stars (Pride of Praxis #2)

This wasn’t a transport mission. It was an execution. Archon was going to cut off the head of the rebellion before it began.

The guard near Lark moved faster than I could scream. Steel flashed. A line of red appeared across Lark’s throat. His eyes went wide. His mouth opened. But no sound came. Just blood. Thick and fast, pouring down his chest as he dropped to his knees, then the floor. Still

“No!” I surged forward, grabbing the nearest sharp object from a tray and launching myself at the closest guard. We were outnumbered. But we were done running. Done being pawns. We were pissed off, and that made us more dangerous than they knew.

The room erupted into a flurry of movement.

I knocked one guard to the ground, landing on top of him, slamming his wrist against the floor until his weapon skittered across the tile.

Another rushed behind me. I spun, dragging the fallen guard into the path of the next attack.

The knife meant for me sank into his back instead. He sputtered, then went still.

I shoved him off and swept my leg toward the guard still standing. He crashed down. I drove my heel into his face with a satisfying crunch. “We need to get out of here!” I shouted.

Devrin had already dropped two.

Bex was grappling with a third, slamming him into a glass cabinet. Shards stuck into his arm, his neck, he shrieked.

Briar, behind the desk, was hurling anything she could find. A lamp. The medical books. A steel tray.

I rushed over, grabbed the attacker from behind, and slammed his head into the desk.

Hard.

He slumped down, nose crushed, out cold.

Bex flipped her guard just in time to parry another with a pain filled grunt.

Briar and I jumped in. The three of us moved together, fast and furious, until the guard was on the floor groaning in pain.

Devrin was pinned now on the floor, a knife to his throat. I pivoted. Ran. Kicked the guard square in the gut. Devrin twisted, got just enough room to slam the blade into his attacker’s chest. The man went limp.

Devrin shoved him aside, met my eyes, nodded once, and then we both turned, because we weren’t done yet.

The last two guards braced themselves, eyes flicking across the blood-slick floor, scanning the aftermath we’d left behind. The room reeked of iron, sweat, and death.

Bex, Briar, Devrin, and I stood in the center of it all, blood on our hands, our clothes, our faces. Chests heaving. Eyes locked. But still we didn’t flinch.

Let Praxis see what happens when they push too far. Let them learn that we weren't afraid of bleeding anymore. Not if it meant survival. Not if it meant justice.

The guards made their move. Fast. Sharp. Trained. But we weren’t the same people who’d been marched into the Run weeks ago. We were hardened, sharpened by trauma and fear. We were weapons all in our own right.

I ducked low and drove my shoulder into the nearest one’s stomach, hard enough to hear the air knock out of him.

His blade still caught me, ripping a line of fire across my shoulder, but I gritted through the pain.

He doubled over, and Briar was there. Her fist cracked against his jaw like thunder, sending him crashing to the ground.

The second guard didn’t stand a chance. Devrin moved in first, faking to the left, drawing the man’s attention. Bex followed from behind and swung. The medical textbook, thick and heavy, slammed into the side of his skull with a sickening thud. He dropped instantly.

I almost laughed. A book that saved her life… now nearly ended someone else’s. Fate had a wicked sense of humor. “I don’t think they’re all dead,” I said, already sprinting toward Ezra. “We’ve got minutes, maybe seconds, before one of them wakes up or reinforcements show.”

Bex was beside me in an instant, unhooking wires and tubes with clinical precision.

“Briar, we need a vehicle. Now.” I barked.

Without a word, she turned and bolted, vanishing into the hall.

I looked at Devrin. Hesitated. “Watch her back?” I tried to keep my voice even, but I was already failing.

She was my family. Devrin didn’t hesitate.

He just nodded once and took off after her.

Behind me, something crackled. A burst of static. I spun, heart thundering, and saw a guard’s personal radio sputtering to life. I snatched it from his vest and raised it slowly, dread pooling in my stomach.

“Captain?” It wasn’t Veritas' voice this time. But someone else. Another guard maybe? “Is it done?”

Bex froze, eyes snapping to mine. Fury lit her face.

I pressed the button, forced my voice low and gruff. “Affirmative.”

There was a pause. Then, “Return to base immediately. I’ll send a crew for cleanup and disposal.”

Cleanup. Disposal. Like we were trash. Debris to be swept away.

I didn’t reply. I clipped the radio to my belt and quickly moved about the room.

Pulling each guard's radio and smashing it beyond repair against the ground. Didn’t need them calling for help before we could get out of here.

Then I turned back to Bex. “Let’s get him up.

Fast. We’ve bought ourselves a head start. ”

She nodded and we lifted Ezra carefully. He was stable, for now. Breathing steady. Still unconscious, but alive. The miracle medicine Praxis had been hoarding from the Collectives already working its magic on his raw skin.

As we passed Lark’s body, I felt Bex falter. Her eyes slid toward him despite herself. The blood. The stillness. The sight of yet another victim. Her sob came sudden and sharp, like a breath she’d been holding broke inside her.

I whispered, barely audible over the chaos still ringing in my ears, “It won’t be in vain.”

She nodded once, hard, and we kept moving. We pressed forward, and when I glanced back at the cameras, there was a small red light on. Maybe someone was watching after all.

When we reached the exit, Briar and Devrin were already on the bus. Briar held the keys, her knuckles white around them. “It’s all ours,” she said.

We loaded Ezra gently into the back. He looked… better. His wounds were cleaned and dressed. The meds had taken hold. Still a long way to go, but he’d most likely wake up soon.

I reached for the keys and headed to the driver’s seat, the cage now open and empty.

“Wait,” Bex said, stopping me.

She turned to Devrin, her voice clear and strong, stronger than I’d ever heard it.

“We’re going back to Praxis. No more running. No more hiding. Are you coming with us?”

Her words didn’t tremble. She was giving him the option to back away. To choose relative safety instead of certain risk.

Devrin studied her for a long moment. Then glanced at me. At Briar.

Finally, he stepped forward and held out his hand. “For the will of the people,” he said.

Bex took his arm. Gripped it. “We survive,” she answered.

With the team in place, I slid into the driver’s seat.

I’d never driven a bus like this before.

Didn’t matter, I’d figure it out. I threw it into gear and hit the gas.

The doors shut behind us with a hiss. We pulled away from the clinic.

Away from the blood. Away from Lark. And through the industrial streets of Steelheart, the city of metal.

We drove straight toward Praxis.

Straight into the storm.

Toward the fight.

Toward the real reclamation.