Zara
The air that hit me as Zarek wrenched open that damned trap door was thick with dust. My lungs burned as if I’d been clawing against stone for hours, though I knew it hadn’t been that long. My palms still tingled from pounding against the sealed barrier, my throat raw from shouting at Seraphine, Lira, and Nova to open up before the memory had slammed into me like a dagger between the ribs.
I didn’t want Zarek to see that part—the way my knees had gone weak, the way I’d pressed my forehead against the cold wood when fragments of Atlas and I had surfaced.
But Zarek wasn’t the type you could hide things from.
He leaned against the doorframe like he hadn’t just broken an ancient door that should’ve held for centuries, his smirk dangerous and lazy all at once. His hair caught the faint
