Page 35 of Storm of Stars
Veritas knew I wasn’t her pawn anymore.
She knew exactly how dangerous we were becoming.
And she wasn’t going to let us reach the finish line without trying to break us.
“Ezra, your car is out front. Please don’t make this difficult and just get into it,” Nova urged, her voice edged with impatience.
Ezra didn’t even look her way. Instead, he crossed the room with purposeful steps, his gaze locked on me. As he reached my side, his hands slid around my waist, pulling me close. Without hesitation, he tipped my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was soft at first, a fleeting brush, but it deepened quickly as I rose up on my toes, molding against him as he guided the kiss. The weight of the moment settled between us, the unspoken words, the promises that couldn’t be said aloud.
When he finally pulled back, he gave a small nod to the others. His eyes flicked briefly to Zaffir, a silent, almost regretful glance that lingered just a moment too long. I could see the longing in him, the desire to show the world, to show him that he deserved a goodbye kiss too. But Nova was here and the camera was running, so brief longing glances was all he could offer. Ezra’s lips pressed into a tight line before he turned and slipped out the front door.
Next was Thorne, and his approach was a contrast of energy. He practically swept me off my feet, his arms pulling me into him with a laugh, his lips brushing against my cheeks and neckin a flurry of playful, almost frantic kisses. His touch was light but insistent, full of warmth, the kind that made it hard not to smile. By the time he was done, I was giggling, and Nova was already moving to pull him away, her hands on his shoulders, as if trying to wrangle him back to reality. He winked at me over his shoulder before heading out the door, his presence already fading like a shadow. “Don’t miss me too much, love.”
Briar was more subtle in her approach, stepping up quietly to my side. She took my hand in hers, her thumb brushing the back of it as she gazed at me with a soft intensity. Her eyes were a mix of love and fear. She cupped my cheek gently before kissing my lips, the kiss tender, a promise wrapped in fragility.
“I’ll see you soon,” she whispered against my lips, her voice thick with emotion before she slipped out the door, leaving me with the space between us now feeling heavier than ever.
Finally, it was just me, Nova, and Zaffir. The air between us seemed to crackle, charged with tension. Zaffir stood in front of me, his camera trained on me like a silent observer. I swallowed the tightness in my throat and forced myself to stand tall, fighting the nervous tremor in my hands. I didn’t want to appear weak, not for the Runaways, not for anyone. They needed to see me as strong, resolute. They needed to know that I was ready to lead this fight, even if I didn’t always feel like it.
“How are you feeling, Brexlyn?” Zaffir asked, his voice quiet but insistent, the camera steady between us like a tether. He was handing me the floor. Giving me a chance to say what needed to be said.
I smiled, but it didn’t touch my eyes. I shifted my weight, letting my fingers brush against my thigh to hide how tightly I was clenching my fists. When I turned to the camera, I knew exactly who I was speaking to.
“I think the right answer is that I’m eager to go out there and compete for my Collective again,” I said, the words easy, almost rehearsed.
Zaffir tilted his head slightly, lifting an eyebrow. “And the real answer?”
I let the silence stretch just long enough to feel heavy, then drew a slow breath and let the mask slip. “I'm scared,” I admitted, the words low but firm.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Nova watching us, sharp and calculating, like she could feel the shift in the air but couldn’t quite predict where it would lead.
“Why?” Zaffir pressed, a subtle nudge. He wanted me to share this with those watching. He needed me to be vulnerable. They all did.
I locked eyes with the lens, not flinching. “I didn’t want this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to be a Challenger. I didn’t want my brother's life resting on my performance in the Run. I didn’t want to survive by watching others fall. I didn’t ask for this pressure.”
The honesty burned on my tongue, raw and real. But I didn’t let it stop me.
“But now?" Zaffir prompted, his voice barely a breath.
“Now, I understand.” I straightened my shoulders, letting the fire inside me show. “I can be scared. I can doubt. I can want to run. But I won’t. Because fear doesn’t get to decide who we are…we do.”
I leaned forward slightly, speaking directly to the Runaways now, to the ones hidden behind screens and shadows.
“Because some people think pressure makes things break. But it doesn’t. It makes them easier to shape,” I said, my voice calm. “If you push hard enough, long enough, you can become something else. Something stronger. Something reinforced.”
The promise was there, in every steady beat of my voice.
“So you’re not afraid anymore?” he asked.
“Of course I am. Maybe I always will be. But standing still because of it? Not fighting? That’s not who I am. Not who I want to be, at least.”
For just a second, Nova’s mask cracked, the faintest flicker of something like regret or understanding flashing across her face, before she snapped it back into place.
But I wasn’t looking at her. I was staring down the barrel of the camera, sending a message to everyone who needed it.
“Fear will always be a part of me,” I said, my voice steady now, anchored by something deeper than anger. “But my courage doesn't come in spite of my fear. It exists because of it.”
For a beat, the room was utterly still. Then Zaffir lowered the camera, clicking it off with a soft, final sound. He studied me through the dark fringe of his lashes, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, quiet, proud. He gave a single, deliberate nod.
