Let the Storm Break

CHAPTER 17 VANE

Audra’s apology has played in my head on autorepeat all night, and I still have no freaking idea what she means.

Sorry for what?

And why send a Westerly to tell me?

Why not just come home?

But there’s a worse question festering in the back of my mind.

I’m trying to keep it there, trying to lock it away and pretend it doesn’t exist so I won’t have to answer it. But as I stare out my window at the empty sky, I have to whisper it to the passing breeze.

“Is she breaking up with me?”

The words should sound stupid. We’re bonded. Of course she wants to be with me.

But . . . why isn’t she here, then?

My room starts to spin and I have to get out.

I shred my shoulder on the thorns as I climb out my window, but I barely feel the pain. A terrifying numbness is swelling inside me, like my body is already accepting what my head is fighting to resist.

I have to fight harder.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Fang calls as I race across the grass.

Honestly, I have no idea, but I shove past him and head into the date grove.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when he follows me. Or when I end up back at the burned-down shack. But if I’d been hoping to find another message—one that magically explains everything—I’m completely disappointed.

There’s nothing left.

No warmth on the wind. No wisps of the draft I felt earlier. I can’t even feel the pull of our bond, but I can’t tell if it’s just because I’m freaking out or because she’s finally run far enough away to break free.

I’m not letting her go that easily.

I reach for the winds and tangle them around me. I have to find her. Fix this.

My feet barely lift off the ground before someone tackles me.

“What are you thinking?” Fang shouts as I try to wrestle him away. “Have you lost your mind?”

Maybe I have.

Or maybe this is a dream—another trick from Raiden to trap me—and I just need to find a way to snap out of it.

I bite my thumb, waiting for the sharp pain to rip me away.

All it gives me is a bloody wound and an iron taste on my tongue.

“Hey,” Fang says, yanking my hand away. “Tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you.”

The kindness in his voice is so un-Fang—it has to mean this isn’t real.

But . . . it hurts too much to be fake.

I stop fighting and Fang loosens his grip and lets me crawl to the corner. I grab a few of the palm leaves Audra used to sleep on and curl up with them, not caring that they’re covered with bugs. Even if I could get away from Fang, what am I going to do? Fly around the world hoping I can track her down?

And then what?

Beg her to take me back?

I would. She’s worth begging for.

She’s worth everything.

But I know it won’t help. Once Audra makes up her mind . . .

Has she though?

I don’t know.

I don’t want to know.

I’m too tired to think anymore. Let Raiden’s winds find me—the nightmares can’t be worse than this. . . .

I can hear Fang shouting at me again, but his voice is too far away. I can’t understand him. At some point I hear others around me too, but I don’t have the energy to listen. I just want to sleep.

Maybe I get my wish, because I feel a strangely warm breeze sink into my mind, filling me with its sweet rush. And as it swirls around my head, I feel a memory untangle from the chaos.

A white, snowy forest. Cold and quiet and way more wet and slippery than I expected. I don’t have boots or a coat, and my fingers and toes are freezing, but right now I just need to get away.

Snow soaks through my jeans, turning my skinny legs numb—but it feels good to be outside after so many days trapped indoors.

I’m never going back to that cabin again.

No more hiding from the wind.

No more listening to my parents fight through the walls, trying to guess why I keep hearing my name.

I run until my lungs feel ready to explode, and when I stop to catch my breath, I’m shivering so hard my teeth chatter. I hug myself, trying to keep warm, but I’m not used to this kind of weather. The worst I’ve had is a cloudy day.

Fresh snow begins to fall and I start moving again, trying to find some sort of shelter from the storm. But the trees are too thin—their branches too weak and scrawny to give me any protection. And the farther I run, the more tired I get, until I can barely lift my legs through the thick dredges of snow.

I have to go back—even if it makes me want to scream.

I turn to retrace my steps, but I can’t find the trail. Everything is smooth and white and looks exactly the same, and the more I try to find my way, the more confused I get.

I call for help, but the snow muffles my words, and even when I shout at the top of my lungs I know they’ll never hear me back at the house.

They probably haven’t even realized I’m gone.

The snow falls harder, and I stumble in circles, looking for anything that might tell me where I am. It all looks the same—empty and scary, and I want to cry but my eyeballs are too frozen, so I run as fast as I can.

I don’t remember tripping. I can’t even feel my feet. But I remember the pain in my head as I fall and the way the light flashes behind my eyes. I try to move, but I can’t—all I can do is watch the spots of red on the snow grow bigger as I count my heavy breaths.

I don’t know how long I lie there, but I know the shivering stops. I feel my heartbeat slow, and I close my eyes and let my mind drift with the icy wind.

“Vane?”

The soft voice feels like a dream. I want to reply but my mouth won’t work. The most I can do is open my eyes.

A dark-haired girl squats in front of me, watching me with dark, worried eyes.

I don’t know her name, but I know her. She lives with the people who dragged us out of our house in the middle of the night. Who told us we had to trust them if we wanted to stay alive. Who ordered us to stay inside and who keep making us move to new houses every few weeks.

I hate that girl—and I hate her parents more.

But as she drapes her jacket over me and presses her warm hand against my cheek, I find the strength to whisper, “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she whispers back.

And she doesn’t.

She stays by my side, holding my hand and calling for help until her dad finally finds us and carries me back to the cabin. And she keeps holding on as my mom cries and my dad screams at me for running away and everyone wraps me in blankets and bandages my head.

Even when they’re done with me, and lay me down next to the fire, I can still feel her holding my hand.

“Stay,” I whisper, afraid to be alone.

“I will,” she promises, sitting down beside me.

I can still feel her warmth as I drift off to sleep.