Page 9 of Storm of Stars (Pride of Praxis #2)

CHAPTER

FIVE

Bex

I’d spent the entire day curled up against Ezra’s side, my fingers constantly brushing over his skin, his hair, gripping his hand as though sheer touch alone could anchor him here, could convince both of us that he was still breathing.

Still alive. Still mine to hold. I couldn’t believe how close we’d come to losing him.

If Fenly hadn’t admitted to cheating, something I still couldn’t quite believe, he would’ve been gone.

And it rattled me.

I’d let myself grow comfortable. I didn’t mean to, but it happened anyway.

I let the familiarity of my team, the way we moved together, trusted each other, looked out for one another, lull me into a false sense of security.

A dangerous mistake in a place like this.

In the Run, safety wasn’t real. I’d forgotten that for a moment. Ezra’s near-death reminded me.

And I couldn’t ignore what it meant for us in the eyes of the world. The only thing audiences loved more than a champion to cheer for… was a favorite to tear down. And we were making ourselves far too easy to watch.

Ezra was asleep, his chest rose and fell in steady, careful breaths.

I laid beside him, one hand resting on his ribs, feeling the soft warmth of him beneath my palm.

My heart ached in ways I didn’t have words for.

A hollow, scraping kind of ache that came from almost losing something vital.

If he’d gone…I didn’t know what would’ve been left of me.

I couldn’t imagine a life without any of my Wildguard.

They’d found their way into the deepest parts of my heart and took root there.

I stayed there longer than I should’ve, watching him in the low light of the room, the way his lashes lay against his cheeks, the small crease between his brows even in sleep.

Eventually, my stomach’s low growl pulled me from my vigil.

I slipped from his bed, pressing a final touch to his hand before leaving the room, careful not to wake Zaffir who was asleep in the bed beside us.

The cabin was quiet, still wrapped in the hush of late night.

The moon hung high, silver light spilling through the windows and pooling on the wooden floorboards like liquid glass.

I padded barefoot to the kitchen, only half-aware of my surroundings. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but my mind was elsewhere, on Ezra’s pained face behind bars, on the cameras always watching, on the quiet, creeping fear curling up inside me.

I didn’t notice the figure at first. Not until the fridge’s pale light caught movement, and a silhouette shifted, a glint of metal in their hand. My heart slammed against my ribs, a startled sound catching in my throat as I staggered back a step.

A voice, low and warm, cut through my panic.

“Easy, love.”

Thorne.

I let out a breath, pressing a hand to my chest. “You scared me.”

He turned toward me with a crooked grin, setting the knife down beside a jar of something on the counter. The dim light softened his sharp features, and made his eyes look darker. His hair was slightly mussed, and he smelled faintly of rain and earth, like fresh air after a storm.

“Sorry,” he said, rounding the kitchen island to pull me into a hug without hesitation. His arms circled me, grounding me in that moment. I let myself lean into it, wrapping my arms around his waist, breathing him in like something clean and steady.

“How’s Ezra?” he asked softly, stepping back, though his hand lingered on my arm a moment longer than necessary.

“He’s sleeping,” I said, sliding onto a stool at the counter. “Though I think he’s more pissed at himself than anything. Kept saying he should’ve made Zaffir teach him how to work the ‘damn machine’ before we got in there.” I attempted a passable impression of Ezra’s grumbled frustration.

Thorne laughed, grabbing sandwich fixings from the counter. “Sounds about right.”

He gestured to the knife. “Can I interest you in a midnight sandwich? It’s not bobcat stew, but I promise it’s edible.”

I smiled, feeling the tension in my chest ease. “An exclusive meal at Restaurante de la Grey ? How could I possibly say no?”

His grin tugged at something in my chest, and I watched his hands as he moved. Steady, capable, thoughtful. It struck me how often he’d taken point on cooking for us in the Wilds. Even when everything was unpredictable and terrifying, Thorne always found a way to feed us.

“Do you like to cook?” I asked, resting my chin in my hand as I watched him layer ingredients on the bread.

He shrugged with a small, wistful smile. “If you think putting some mayonnaise on a piece of bread is cooking, I have a lot to teach you.” he teased, pointing the knife in my direction.

I laughed.

“But yeah. Ma tried to teach us both. Briar wasn’t into it. Too restless, always climbing trees or eavesdropping on the neighbors. But I kind of liked it. There’s a rhythm to it, you know? A small thing you can control.”

I hesitated, then asked, “Did you know… about your mom being part of the Runaways? While she was alive, I mean.”

His hands stilled, a shadow passing through his expression. “I knew more than Briar did,” he admitted. “But Ma never said it outright. Not until she gave me the card.”

“I thought Briar was really good at reading people, how did she miss that?”

“I think she was too close to it. You know? Like you only see what you want to see when it comes to those you love?”

I nodded.

He drew in a breath, slicing through the bread carefully.

“Briar knew that she spoke up a lot. Not always about Praxis directly, but about the Collectives, about the injustice of the Run. Enough to get her noticed. Not enough for them to kill her… until it was.” His voice cracked faintly, and I felt the ache of it in my own chest.

“When I figured out what she’d been a part of, what she created, it wasn’t a surprise. She hated what the Reclamation Run did to people. To families. To us.”

I swallowed, tracing a crack in the counter with my finger. “Why did Briar want to be elected?” I asked quietly.

He met my eyes then, a sad, knowing kind of smile ghosting across his face. “That’s a story she should tell you herself.” He slid a plate toward me and came around to sit beside me.

I picked up the sandwich, its warmth and weight oddly comforting. “So… how is it?” he asked, raising a brow.

I took a bite, pretending to chew thoughtfully. “You know, I think I actually miss the bobcat,” I teased.

He snorted and bumped his shoulder against mine, a real laugh breaking through this time. “Careful, love. Insult the chef again and I’ll have to punish you.”

I smiled, the ache in my chest easing as heat took its place.

I took another bite, and for a few minutes we ate in a comfortable, easy silence. But my mind wouldn’t settle. It drifted, spiraling back to the same thought it had all day when the quiet stretched too long.

“What’s on your mind?” Thorne asked, bumping his shoulder against mine, pulling me back from the edge I hadn’t realized I was teetering on.

I sighed. “Fenly,” I admitted, the name tasting heavy on my tongue. Between worrying over Ezra and trying to hold the pieces of our team together, Fenly Nots hadn’t left my thoughts for a second.

A flicker of something, recognition, regret, grief, crossed Thorne’s face.

His expression tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair as he stood, collecting his empty plate and walking it to the sink.

I watched the way his shoulders tensed, the way his whole frame looked wound tight, like a storm ready to snap.

I stood too, carrying my plate with me. When I reached him, I slid it into the sink and slipped my arms around his waist from behind, resting my cheek against the solid line of his back. His body softened, just a little, at the contact but the tension was still there, humming beneath his skin.

“What is it?” I asked quietly.

He exhaled a shaky breath. “Fenly sacrificed himself for Ezra,” Thorne whispered, his voice rough, like it scraped against something sharp on the way out. “He didn’t cheat. He lied. Lied to save him.”

I jerked back, the shock hitting me like a punch to the chest. I stepped away until my back met the counter. Thorne turned to face me, his eyes shadowed and weary.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Fenly lied to get Ezra out of there.”

“Why would he do something like that?”

Thorne hesitated, then said softly, “Right after the trial, Fenly told me something. He said… one day, the stars will shine on us again.” Thorne’s voice cracked a little on the words, and a cold rush of recognition swept through me.

“He thinks we might be the stars Nexum’s been waiting for,” Thorne continued.

My heart stuttered. “He knew about the Runaways?”

Thorne nodded once, gravely. “I think he was a Runaway, love,” he said, stepping closer, his hands finding my arms, grounding me.

I swallowed hard. “And he… he sacrificed himself so our team could stay together? I don’t understand. Why?”

Thorne’s expression was pained as he nodded again.

“He believes in us. In what we can do together. Just like I do.” His fingers lifted to gently grip my chin, tilting my face up until our eyes locked.

“I believe in us, Bex. In the five of us. That we can finish what my Ma started. That maybe, for the first time in a long time, we can change how this story ends.”

A wave of emotions crashed over me, hope, regret, pain, and I wasn’t sure which one would drown me first.

“What if it wasn’t worth it? What if I can’t do what he sacrificed himself for?” I whispered.