How It Was by T. S. Joyce

Chapter Twelve

 

All he could see was darkness. It filled his head, his soul, his vision. Nuke squeezed his eyes closed and inhaled deeply. The scent of smoke filled his nostrils, and then he heard it. The rumble of the dragon. He’d followed him in here. No. Couldn’t be.

He had burned the ancient one. Nuke was hurt but he wasn’t dead. The smell of singed scales was faint but it was there. He moved to reach for his phone in the dark, but his body didn’t work right.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of water echoed around in his head, and he shook it hard. Everything hurt. He eased his eyes open and they adjusted to the dark. He was in the cave. No. No, no, no, this had to be a dream. This wasn’t real. The rumble of his growl sounded again and he knew what he was. He was changed, healing from the war that had killed his family…from the mistake that had killed Tovlin. Anguish washed through him as he exhaled again, emanating the rumble of his dragon. He’d slept in this cave for a year to heal from that battle, and now he was trapped in here again. Hungry, heartbroken, time lost.

His brothers. His parents. Tovlin’s bravery at the end as he aimed again and again for the ancient one, spewing his fire, knowing when they were done with him, his dragon would have to fight Nuke’s. Knowing he would die. Tovlin thought he was giving Nuke a chance to live. He thought he was giving him a gift, but living wasn’t a gift at all. Now he was alone. The last of his kind. This was a curse.

Nuke roared his heartbreak and fire spewed forth, illuminating the cave and dispersing the bats that had gathered on the skyscraper ceilings.

 

Nuke startled awake. He couldn’t see, couldn’t see anything. The buzzing sounded again. Fuck! It wasn’t a dream.

Panicked he lurched to the side, but he fell a foot and hit a hard floor. His legs were tangled in something…blankets. Wait.

Buuuuuzzzzz.

That wasn’t his dragon breathing.

Breath heaving, he blinked hard and waited for his night vision to adjust. Something small hunched in the corner, staring at him. Freaking mouse.

Okay. Okay. He was in the trailer, in Krome’s territory, and he’d fallen asleep with Trina in his arms.

“Trina?” he said hoarsely.

No answer.

Outside, a car engine started. What the hell? It wasn’t even dawn yet.

She was leaving. He staggered to his feet as he shook the last remnants of that awful dream from his head. A folded piece of paper sat on the cushion of the recliner.

Couldn’t sleep. Went to get us breakfast. Be back at Pegasus speed.

Relief washed through him. She wasn’t leaving him. Her suitcase was still there. He exhaled the tension from his body and read the note again.

Buzz. Buzz.

Where was that coming from? He followed the sound to the recliner, but there was nothing on the cushion. He dug in the cracks and on the left side, his fingertips brushed something hard and plastic. Trina’s phone. He lifted it out. He should give it to her before she left, in case she needed it.

He rubbed his eye and sauntered to the door. Buzz.

He didn’t mean to look, but the screen glowed and nearly blinded a word into his brain. A familiar word. A name. His name.

He squinted at the screen and read the text that had just come through.

Have you figured out Nuke’s real name yet?

His heart glugged erratically in his chest cavity. Have you figured out Nuke’s real name yet?

He wasn’t seeing this. It was his imagination…right? He read it three more times, and then it disappeared off the screen.

Trina! Fucking answer me.

The new text came through and it showed how many notifications Trina had missed. Forty-two. Forty-two texts from this person who didn’t have a name on the caller ID. Only a letter. M.

He shook his head. No. He tried to open the text thread but it needed a password or facial recognition to unlock the phone.

What is Nuke’s real name, and what trailer is he living in? And I want to know everything about Amos, and Divar when he arrives. I need you to spend more time with Ren. Maybe have one of your girl’s nights, and do your girl-talk shit. It doesn’t make any sense that the Crew is still so small. Where are the others? When will they be there?

Rage was a slow-simmering burn that brought his blood to a boil. She wasn’t just betraying him. She was betraying the Crew. People who had done nothing wrong to her. He and the Crew had given her a safe place, and she was feeding this person information about them.

The dragon rumbled inside of him, and he looked up at the window. Trina was backing her car slowly away from his house. She was singing to some song, like she had no conscience at all. Like she wasn’t betraying him.

He’d trusted her.

Despite everything he’d learned about other people…he’d trusted her.