The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,159

forward, the weeds reaching his hips. “There were trails and stuff, and a lot of people used to run them. They’d have concerts here sometimes.”

Dead lampposts rose out of the grass, and every so often I’d see a shape of something underneath grass that might’ve been a bench. “Did you go to them?”

“Some of them.”

We reached the end of the park, and I could feel the ground change under my feet, shifting from grass to cement. What I guessed might’ve been a parking lot had been converted into a temporary campsite. Tents sat every so many feet, some half-collapsed and others rippling in the wind. A chill swept down my spine as we walked past them and onto one that must’ve been a busy street at one time.

Cars sat untouched in the middle of the road, some with the doors wide open and windows blown out, while others looked virtually untouched with the exception of the wear and tear of the years of exposure. Papers and pieces of cloth drifted across the street, stopping only to be caught by the wind once more and carried toward darkened storefronts. I kept picturing a pack of wild dogs erupting out the shadows, but that didn’t happen as Nate led me down a street.

Tall, dark shapes stretched into the night sky, silent and foreboding, but for a moment, I could almost imagine dozens of lights glowing from windows of the skyscrapers, the hum of traffic and people going about their lives.

And I thought of home.

My heart squeezed. I tried not to think of my old life, one in a bustling city full of sound and people and normalcy. Or at least the facsimile of normalcy, but seeing what had become of Houston made me wonder if there would be more cities like this, and it made me miss … before. Not that I wanted to go back to being blind to what was happening or to who I was or to be without Luc, but there was a simplicity that I missed, along with my friends and …

Mom.

A knot of emotion lodged in my throat. God, I missed her, and those feelings hadn’t become any less confusing or easier to deal with. I hated her and I loved her. Just like I hated my fake life in Columbia but also loved it.

“Are you okay?” Nate’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Why?”

“You look like you’re about to, I don’t know, cry or something.”

“Would that make you uncomfortable?” I teased.

“Uh, yeah.”

I grinned. “Then I won’t do it.”

He tugged on the hem of his shirt as he glanced over at me. “But you’re sad?”

“A little,” I admitted. “I used to live in a city. Not as big as this, but it just made me think of home.”

“Why aren’t you there now?”

That would take all night to try to explain. “People were trying to hurt me and my friends. My mom was killed, and this was the only place we could go.”

“Sorry about your mom.” He looked away. “Why were they trying to hurt you and your friends?”

Unable to get too deep into why, I said, “Do people need a reason?”

“No.” He sighed. “So, you’re hiding.”

“Yeah, I am.” I paused. “Like you, I guess.”

He nodded as he came to a stop, and I looked across the street at a square, one-story building that seemed out of place in between the taller, larger buildings. “Used to be a church. Like one of those small ones, but it had been converted into a place for people whose homes were destroyed in the invasion. Had a lot of beds,” he explained. “It’s one of the places we stay in.”

“There are others?” I asked as we crossed the street.

“We have a couple of places.” He walked ahead, stopping at the door. “They’ve probably already seen you out here.” He nodded at one of the dark windows. “And they’re probably hiding, so just don’t say anything at first. Okay? Let me do the talking.”

Heart rate picking up, I nodded and nearly held my breath when the door creaked open and Nate stepped in, motioning for me to follow. It was almost pitch-black inside the small reception room. Even with new extra-special Trojan eyes, I had a hard time making out what the shadows were stacked up against the wall, and it smelled like musk, people, and burned wood.

Nate walked down a narrow hall that opened up into a wide space that once had to be used for religious