The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,164

deciding what was better for them.

“I know you think things are bad, but you can’t come back here, and you can’t bring anyone with you. We don’t need your help. Not like that,” Nate said. “Don’t even waste your time, because I’m sure we’ll be gone tonight.”

“And what if I did come back?” I challenged. “Would he hurt you guys?”

“I told you, it’s not like that.” The heat in his words was barely there. “You saw how the others acted. They’ll run. And you saw how young most of them are. It will be all over for them.”

I exhaled long and slow. “I won’t come back, and I told you I wouldn’t bring anyone here. I haven’t lied, but I still want you to come to me if you need something, and if you ever decide that you want to give living in the community a chance or if you need my help to make that happen, you come to me. Okay?”

Nia dipped her chin, but she nodded.

“Yeah,” answered Jamal.

I stared at Nate. “What do you think?”

“Okay,” he muttered.

“Promise?” I persisted.

His gaze lifted to mine. “I promise.”

Really hoping he meant that, I nodded.

“Do you know your way out?” When I said yes, he added, “You should get going. The ones who check this area will be back through soon,” he said. “You can’t get caught.”

“I know. I won’t.” Not wanting to leave them with a man who treated them like his own hunting-and-gathering tribe of children, I lingered for another moment. “Be safe. All of you. Please.”

After another round of promises, I started to turn. Jamal stopped me. “If you’re not completely human and you’re not one of them, then what are you?”

How did I answer that question? I had no idea, so I said, “I’m just Evie.”

I left after that, darting between the two tall and dark skyscrapers and following the road out, doing my best to not think about how quiet and empty everything was. The moment I neared the exit ramp, I felt the presence of a Luxen.

“Shit,” I muttered, dropping down behind some kind of bush. The feeling increased, and my muscles tensed to run. I could be fast—probably faster than a Luxen could see. I could—

The crunch of gravel under a boot too close snapped my head up.

Grayson stood above me, face impressively blank in the silvery moonlight.

“Shit,” I repeated, slowly rising from my crouch. Part of me knew better than to be surprised that he was there. After all, he was on babysitting duty. “I didn’t feel you until now.”

“That’s because I stayed far enough back that you wouldn’t feel me until I wanted you to.”

My lips thinned. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair or not, do you want to know what’s stupid? You running off in the middle of the night with some random guy—”

“Random guy? You mean random child.”

“Into a city you’re unfamiliar with,” he continued. “Without telling anyone, by yourself.”

“Well, obviously, I wasn’t by myself,” I snapped. “When I was with a random child and you were following me like a Grade A stalker.”

White flashed from his shadowy eyes.

“And I get it—you’re going to want to yell and lecture me, but can we please not do this here? I—well, now we—need to get back before we’re seen.” I held up my hand when he started to argue. “I’ll explain everything, and I will also sit still and be quiet and let you rant to your heart’s content, but can we please get back to the community now?”

Grayson simply stepped aside, extending an arm.

Stalking past him, I shot him a look, and then I took off running and I dug in deep, picking up speed. Grayson stayed close as I raced across the clearing, straight for the tree line. I didn’t slow down as we reached the broken section of chain-link fence, signaling that we were now back in the community. I didn’t slow down until the row of houses came into view.

Still surprised by my own speed, I brushed several strands of hair out of my face as I stepped onto the asphalt of the road Eaton lived on.

Grayson caught the backpack, bringing me to a stop. “It’s time for you to let me rant to my heart’s content.”

Pulling myself free, I faced him. “Before you do, let me explain what I was doing.”

“I don’t think that’s the deal we made.”

“That’s because we didn’t make a deal.” Before he could say another word, I launched into the briefest, shortest version I possibly could about