Page 49 of Storm

“Mary, it’s Alora. Are you okay?” Gently pressing her shoulder, I give it a slight squeeze.

Nothing.

My stomach is a whirling torrent of dread. I persist one more time. “Mary? Mary, please wake up?” I jiggle her body this time, and she falls to her side.

I’m not ready.

Not prepared for the wide, unseeing eyes that stare back at me. Or the white pallor of her skin. Or the way I know. I KNOW…

She’s gone.

And everything—everything—is going to change. My world is going to fall apart again.

Hollow grey eyes morph to brown, and I’m stuck… Stuck in a familiar, unending scene of a young man’s body strung up on an X, his death a certainty, starving his punishment for love. Pushing off the bed, I barely take a step before crumpling to the ground.

My breathing comes in short, unsteady gasps.

I wish I were braver. The old Storm would’ve been braver. Now, I’m just some weak-willed Halo wife named Alora.

If Nix saw me now— A strangled cry comes from within, an animalistic pain as I plant myself on all fours and sink my head towards the ground for some stability.

“STORM.” A booming symphony vibrates through the door. The pounding of heavy footfalls hit the hardwood floors, getting closer to my prone form. “Damn it, wife, what is going on?” He lifts me into his arms smoothly. I cling to him like he is my lifeline in this tempest of uncertainty.

And the tears come. Thick and fast, they soak the spicy soap smell wafting off‌ him. He grips me tightly, walking me out of that room and into the kitchen. “Shhh. What is going on?”

I sniffle loudly, barely able to get the words out.

“Mmm-Mmarry. Shhhe—Shhhe’s dddd-deeeaad.”

He hears me clearly, swearing under his breath. “It’s okay. I’ll fix it,” he calms, rubbing my back. Full lips graze the top of my head, pulling me into him for support.

Melek is good at fixing things. He brought me back from the brink of death during Sunny’s birth, and he always manages to stop my crying fits. So, maybe he’s oddly adept at fixing me. The contrast of seeing this man as my captor gives me a headache.

Groaning, I place a hand against my temple.

“Sunny needs breakfast, and you…” I croak into his wet work shirt. He tenderly kisses me again.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

That’s when it hits me⁠—

He called me Storm.

FIVE YEARS AGO

THE BUSINESS OF A COMMANDER

Melek

“Is that all you’ve got?” I spit on the dirt before me. This newest round of recruits disgusts me. Each year, they get worse and worse, younger and younger. With time, this training ground will lie empty.

I left Storm for this. My heavily pregnant wife is due any day.

My arms raise as a new boy thinks he can best me, bounding on his feet, edging closer and closer in the outside sparring rings. The fog is thick, but the air is humid, and the boy who gains proximity already has a line of sweat on his brow.

This is the only time I let my anger out. They’ve all seen what I can do here. Last week, one of these pricks was taken away to medical with a concussion and three broken ribs. If they put themselves in the line of fire, they should expect to be burnt.

I’m a patient man. I reserve all my ire for these fields.