Page 154 of Storm Caller

My words trail off as he squeezes my hand tighter. “Beckett?”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper as he drops his head, taking a minute to stare down at his lap. I wish there was something I could do to make this right. To make any of this okay.

I reach out and cup his cheek. He looks up at me, his eyes glassy in the dim light.

“After he was taken away, I often wondered if I’d ever see him again,” he says. “If I’d ever get the chance to really know him. The madness took him so early . . .”

He looks away, blinking rapidly before wiping his nose with the back of his hand and sniffing. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Those bastards. Those people were harmless. Completely at their mercy.” He faces me again. “What’s my father’s plan? He won’t let this go unchallenged.”

“They’re coming,” I say. “His army. Your army. Lieutenant General Rey. Navy and Justin. They plan to attack.”

His face resolves into hardness as he nods. “As it must be.”

“People will die, Rook. Innocent people. I know what The Shield did was wrong, but . . . is this really the only way?”

“What would you have them do, Poet? Allow them to get away with it? Let it go? This was nothing but pure, vicious violence for the sake of it. We have to fight back. If we don’t, they’ll only come harder for us next time. Our only defense is to remind them that we aren’t weak.”

“I know,” I whisper, dropping my hand. “I know.”

“Will you sound an alarm?” he asks. Months ago, we sat in this very spot when Rook reminded me that someday his people might come and take everything from us. That we were sitting on opposite ends of a divide. I dismissed it then, sure that we could work out whatever might come. I realize just how truly naive I was being.

“I want to tell the Fog. And Domino. My parents.”

Rook nods. “I understand. Your father will alert The Shield once he knows.”

“He might, but Summit said it wouldn’t matter. They’re coming, and there’s no way to stop them.”

“He’s right,” Rook says. “This is too big to ignore.”

I look up, peering at the sky and clouds still churning over the horizon.

Rook shifts closer.

“Have you touched a storm?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“It’s been too risky.”

He rubs my cheek and leans in, his mouth brushing mine. A cloud rumbles overhead and breaks apart. I call to it, and I think Rook does, too. We kiss as it hits us, enveloping us in the bliss of the moment. I gasp as he pulls me closer, and I straddle his hips as his tongue dives into my mouth. I feel the Spark traveling over me, melting into my pores, sinking through my skin as my brain and my heart and my lungs float through my blood.

It almost feels like we might levitate off the earth and soar across the sky like shooting stars.

He moans as he kisses me harder, and we’re surrounded by the plasma arc. I feel my hair rising and the crackle of static. Waves of light and love and hope flow through me as I think about a future where we can do this freely, without living in fear every single day.

A moment later, the arc winks out, and slowly we pull apart, both of us breathing heavily.

“That feeling right there,” Rook says. “That’s how I feel every time I look at you. Never forget that. You’re the one who lights up my darkness, Poet Graves. Nothing will change that.”

My throat is too tight to speak.

“I should go,” he says softly. “I need to keep moving.”

I nod, trying to stem a flow of tears burning in my eyes. “I hope I didn’t put you in danger, but I had to tell you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he says.

“What comes next?” I ask. “Where do we go from here?”

“We need that cure,” he says. “Once I have that . . .”