Page 33 of Storm of Stars (Pride of Praxis #2)

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Bex

We moved toward the exit of the bus, stepping one by one into the waiting crowd. The air crackled around us with something electric, hope, tension, anticipation. Their cheers didn’t just lift me. They wrapped around me like armor.

Then a flash of movement in the crowd caught my eye. Flame-red curls parted the sea of bodies like a beacon.

Zaffir.

He stepped forward, expression lit with disbelief and joy. Relief crashed through me so hard it nearly buckled my knees.

He was safe.

The Runaways were here.

And Praxis was going down.

I ran and I didn’t stop. Not when my lungs burned. Not when the noise of the crowd blurred behind me. Not until I crashed into Zaffir’s arms.

He caught me like he’d been waiting every second of his life just to hold me again.

The impact stole my breath, but I didn’t care.

His arms locked around me, grounding and desperate, his face buried in the crook of my neck.

His whole body shook, a quiet tremble rippling through him like he was exhaling a grief he hadn’t dared feel until now.

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmured into my skin, his voice raw, reverent. Then he pressed a kiss to my throat, gentle and trembling, a promise written in touch.

“You’re safe,” I whispered, my fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. Dark grey and soft beneath my hands. It was such a small thing, the color of his clothes, but it knocked the wind out of me. No more gold. No more silver. No more polished Praxis sheen trying to claim him.

He wasn’t theirs anymore.

He looked like himself, like the version I always knew was under the surface. He’s been one of us for a long time, but this was the first time it showed on the outside. No disguise. No uniform. Just him. Real, and here, and finally free to be who he was without having to hide it.

“So are you,” he breathed, his hands roaming down my back like he needed to map every inch of me to believe I was really there. Really whole. Really alive.

He leaned back, just enough to find my lips. The kiss was grateful, urgent, aching. I melted into it, tasting love, and relief so much that it made my knees weak. I never wanted to let go of him again.

When we finally parted, his gaze flicked past me.

To Ezra.

He stood near the bus, arms loosely crossed, his expression unreadable, like he wasn’t sure he was invited into this moment, like maybe he didn’t want to intrude. But Zaffir didn’t hesitate. He reached out with one hand.

Ezra stepped forward slowly, and then Zaffir pulled him into him. Their embrace was different, careful, but just as fierce, and when they kissed, it was like something in the air was still. Like the universe exhaled with them.

I felt something bloom in my chest. I couldn’t help the smile that broke across my face.

“Thought you were a goner there for a second,” Zaffir said, voice cracking just a little.

Ezra smirked. “And leave you unsupervised? Not a chance.”

We laughed. It felt good. God, it felt so good to laugh and not have it hurt.

Then—

“Briar! Thorne!” Zaffir called out as the twins approached, blood and ash still clinging to their uniforms. We could all go for a nice shower right about now. “Glad to see you two are still alive.”

He reached out a hand to shake theirs, but Briar bypassed it completely, throwing her arms around him in a fierce hug. Thorne followed, his arms looping around them both.

I blinked hard, my throat tightening.

Because I knew how much this meant.

Zaffir was Praxis-born, raised behind their walls, shaped by their rules.

I always knew that, even if unspoken, there was a thread of tension that tugged between him and the rest of the Wildguard, maybe even Ezra at times.

A flicker of doubt, a sliver of blame. It showed in the way their eyes followed him when he first walked through our doors wearing that polished gold and silver.

In the way silence hung heavier when the memory of their mother surfaced.

Praxis had taken everything from them, and he had worn its colors.

But now?

Now, those colors were gone. So was the distance.

Thorne and Briar pulled him into an embrace like he’d always belonged. And maybe, finally, he did. There was no Praxis on his skin anymore. For the first time, they held him not as a symbol of what had gone wrong…but as one of us.

As Wildguard .

That word has always encompassed Zaffir in my mind but seeing it expand to him in theirs, too, made my heart stutter.

“I assume the little camera stunt back at the hospital was your doing?” Thorne asked, pulling back just enough to eye Zaffir with a raised brow.

“Camera stunt?” I asked, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.

“Of course it was,” Zaffir said, half-grinning. “Wasn’t about to let her get away with that.”

I turned from one to the other, confused.

“They cut the feed,” Zaffir explained. “Right before they sent the guards in. Ended the Run, said they were sending you all home without a victory parade and told us to run the victory montages.”

I nodded slowly. I remembered those montages. I used to watch them with awe, never knowing one day I’d be the star of one.

“But your boyfriend here,” Thorne said with a pointed, charming look, “got the feed back on.”

“So, everyone saw what she did?” I asked, stunned. “To.. Lark?”

Zaffir nodded. “Every last viewer.”

My heart skipped. That …that changed everything. They couldn’t edit that out. Couldn’t change that history. Just the truth, broadcast wide and unfiltered.

“Nice work, Zaf,” Ezra said, a soft smile blooming on his face.

Zaffir shrugged, trying to play it cool. But I saw it, the way his eyes softened under the praise, the way his hand found mine and squeezed like he needed the anchor. He was happy he could do something substantial for this cause.

And there we stood, a messy tangle of scars and love and loyalty. Battered. Bloodied. But together.

Then I turned for the first time toward the small audience we’d garnered, and my breath caught all over again.

“They came,” I whispered, eyes sweeping over the small crowd that had gathered at the edges of our reunion. I didn’t know how long they’d been there. But they watched us like we were the sunrise after a long, brutal night.

“They did,” Zaffir said, smiling as he followed my gaze. “Look.”

He nodded toward a group stepping closer, slowly, deliberately. There was something about them that made my stomach twist. Recognition flickered at the edge of my mind. Familiar faces. Familiar posture. Scars. Stance. Eyes.

And then it hit me.

“Oh my god,” I breathed. “They’re… they’re Challengers.”

They were older now. Weathered. But unmistakable. The ones who had walked the path we now tread, years ago. Survivors of the Reclamation Run.

One figure stepped forward from the group. Tall. Solid. Gray hair cropped close to his skull. His frame was broad, but not bulky and coiled with the kind of strength that didn’t come from lifting weights but from a lifetime of hard work. He walked like he’d faced death and made it blink first.

His eyes found mine and even before he opened his mouth, I knew.

“Edgar Soonwater,” I whispered, the name catching in my throat. The most decorated Reclamation Run winner in the history of Nexum.

He gave a short nod, the faintest smile breaking the hard line of his jaw. “Brexlyn Hollis.”

“You’re here?” I said, stunned. “You’re a Runaway?”

“I am,” he replied. “We all are.” He turned, gesturing behind him. The figures I’d only just started to register fully, people hardened by time, by memory, by loss. Veterans of the Reclamation Run. The ones who survived.

“It’s about damn time someone lit the fuse,” Edgar said.

Emotion surged in my chest, sudden and sharp, catching me off guard.

My gaze drifted past Edgar to the camp unfolding behind him—rows of tents set in perfect lines, gear stacked neatly, paths cleared and purposeful.

People moved with intention, like they knew exactly what they were doing and where they were needed.

It didn’t look thrown together at all. No chaos, no scrambling.

Nothing like I would expect in response to the less than organized call for action that Briar and I sent out. “What is all this?” I asked.

“We’ve got four primary camps, spread out by skill focus,” Edgar explained, voice even but passionate.

“Fighters in the east quadrant, they’re combat ready and mobile.

Engineers and builders to the west, weapons, fortifications, mobility units.

To the north, we’ve got the techies, signal scramblers, drone runners, sabotage teams. And in the south, the healers.

Med tents, supply coordination, emergency evac prep. ”

I stared at him, my brain tripping over itself to process.

“We’ve also got ration stores, backup comms, transport hubs. Teams rotating on recon watching the guard towers.”

I blinked. “How… how did you do this so fast?”

He chuckled, low and dry, like I’d just asked if rain was wet.

“We didn’t do it fast,” he said. “We’ve been doing it quietly. For years.”

My breath caught.

“When I came back from the Run, I thought I’d bought change for my people.

That my wins would mean something. That Praxis would finally shine on us.

But nothing changed. I was nothing but a fucking propaganda tool.

A distraction. And when I saw that, I snapped.

That’s when I met your mother.” His eyes flicked to Thorne and Briar.

Their eyes widened.

“She told me about the Runaways. Together we spread the word, started expanding our underground network…” His eyes turned sad. “I was incredibly sorry to hear of her passing. She was one of the best people I ever knew.”

Briar and Thorne nodded, soft saddened smiles on their faces.

Edgar glanced behind him again at the other Challengers. At his people.

“But she started a legacy. And we’ve been building ever since. Piece by piece. Underground. Off the grid. Waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” I asked softly.

“For someone brave enough to strike the first blow,” he said. “Someone who wouldn’t just talk about justice but risk everything for it. We were waiting for you, Brexlyn.”

I felt the Wildguard behind me, Zaffir, Ezra, Thorne, Briar, felt the way they steadied, drew closer.

“You all gave us the opening we’d been waiting for,” Edgar said. “And now we’re all in. We’re done hiding. You lead, we follow.”

I didn’t know what to say. My chest burned with hope so bright it scared me.

Edgar took a step closer holding a hand out for me. “Let’s finish what the Runaways started. Let’s reclaim Nexum.”

I gripped his hand and felt like we’d just made history.