Archenemies (Renegades #2)(132)

Nova stood a few paces in from the entryway and stared.

At the garish paisley wallpaper.

At the moth-eaten furniture.

At the nothingness that was supposed to be her home.

The helmet hung from one hand, her fingers punctured through the eye holes like a bowling ball. It no longer felt light and unobtrusive, and as the shadows slowly gave way to the dusty light of early morning, Nova let the helmet fall.

It thumped anticlimactically against the carpet and rolled beneath the coffee table.

Nova let out a shaking breath.

She had failed.

Ace was captured. Ace was gone.

A chime echoed through the silent house, startling Nova from her thoughts. Her communication band. She found it in the kitchen. Her hand was shaking as she picked it up and scrolled through countless messages from Adrian and the rest of the team, and even a global communication sent out from the Council, confirming the truth of the media reports.

Ace Anarchy is alive and he is in custody.

The Sentinel was responsible for his capture.

The Sentinel’s identity remains unknown.

The most recent messages were all about Nightmare, also confirmed alive, and the theft of Ace Anarchy’s helmet, and the destruction wrought upon headquarters.

The messages said nothing about Frostbite and her team.

They said nothing about Max.

Nova read the alerts about Nightmare more closely, trying to determine if she’d been discovered or not. She hadn’t been overly concerned with keeping her identity concealed tonight, believing that by the end of it, Ace would have his helmet back and her charade as a Renegade would be over.

Now she couldn’t fathom what would happen next. How long before they figured her out?

She thought of Danna’s butterfly, still trapped inside the jar upstairs. If it ever escaped, then Nova’s secret would be revealed for sure. And there were a thousand other little lies piling up all around her. A thousand signs pointing to Nova. To Nightmare.

How long did she have before they knew?

Before Adrian knew.

She dropped the wristband onto the table and braced her palms against the back of a chair. Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply. Counted to ten. Exhaled.

Then she went upstairs to change. Honey did not speak, so neither did she as she stripped out of Nightmare’s costume, covered in blood and sweat and small shards of glass.

She set her face mask on the vanity, right next to Danna’s butterfly.

She could barely look at either of them.

She had to get Ace out. That was all there was to it. The thought made her want to sob, but she bottled it deep inside. Because if that’s what had to be done, then that’s what she would do. She wouldn’t complain about all the work and planning that had gone into tonight. She wouldn’t think of how everything was wasted. She wouldn’t feel sorry for herself.

She would lift her chin. She would keep fighting.

She went back downstairs, leaving Honey to her solitude. They all wanted solitude. Nova sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the vase of dead flowers, her heart breaking.

It could not all be for nothing. She wouldn’t let the Renegades win. She wouldn’t let the Council get away with their lies, their broken promises.

And she would not be beaten by the Sentinel.

A knock made her jump. She stood and stared at the front door, choking on her heart. She waited for it to be blown in by the forces of an army of superheroes. She pictured Captain Chromium’s fist smashing through the door, leaving it in splinters, or Tsunami’s tidal wave bursting through the window and flooding the house.

But the only attack that came was a second pounding on the door, more determined this time.

Then, Adrian’s voice. “Nova—it’s me. I know you’re awake. Please, let me in.”

Her saliva became sticky inside her mouth.

Adrian.

Sweet, handsome, brilliant Adrian Everhart.

He knew. He must know. How could she face him? How could she stand to see the look in his eyes when he demanded she tell him the truth? When he dared her to lie to him again?

“Nova? Are you home?”

Her gaze landed on the helmet.

Crossing the living room floor, she stooped and picked it up from the dreary carpet and spent a few seconds turning in aimless circles, trying to determine where to hide it. She settled on the coat closet, jamming the helmet in amid Leroy’s trench coat and Honey’s furs.

Inhaling a deep breath, she crossed to the door and gripped the knob. Upstairs, Honey’s sobs had fallen quiet. The entire house felt deserted.

She pulled open the door.

Adrian was a wreck. His bow tie was gone, and his dress shirt was rumpled and covered in smudges of dirt. His gaze latched on to her, haunted and exhausted.

But not accusatory.

She didn’t dare hope.

“Can I come in?” he said, almost meek.

She licked her lips with her sandpaper tongue and stepped inside.

He moved past her and walked straight into the kitchen. Nova held her breath as he passed the closet. The latch, which never closed firmly, clicked. The door drifted open, just a few inches.

Adrian didn’t notice. His movements were sluggish as he pulled back a chair and collapsed into it.

“I’m sorry,” he said when Nova caught up to him. She stayed in the doorway, terrified. That Honey would make a sound. That some of her bees would fly down from the stairwell and start traipsing across the cabinets. That Adrian’s melancholy was an act, meant to lure her into false security. “I know I can’t just keep showing up here but … I needed to talk to someone, and I knew you would be awake, so…” His voice snagged and she noted the bruised circles beneath his eyes, almost hidden by the frames of his glasses.