The Brightest Night (Origin #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,68

will volunteer.”

“But what if I hurt you guys?”

Luc glanced down at me. “You didn’t hurt Grayson today, even though you wanted to.”

He was right.

I stared out over the field, wondering how much more my life would change. “Does that make me a bad person? That I did want to hurt him?”

“Who hasn’t wanted to hurt Grayson?”

I choked out a laugh.

“Grayson was purposely trying to get a rise out of you,” he added. “And he’s exceptionally good at it.”

“That he is,” I murmured, thinking that over. “You’re saying that he wasn’t pushing my buttons because he just wanted to be a jerk to me, but to see what I’d do?”

“Yes.” He paused. “And because he’s a jerk. It’s one of his strengths.”

How that was considered a strength, I didn’t know.

“Today was a good day. No one had to hurt anyone. No one got hurt,” he said, eyeing the cloudy sky. “Well, except maybe Grayson’s pride and a Blow Pop or two, and we didn’t have to make you panic or really upset. I’ll count this as a win and proof that we’re on the right path.”

Squeezing his hand, I decided that I would also count today as a win.

“So.” He drew the word out. “You want to see if you can run fast?”

I came to a sudden halt. “I thought you said I should take it easy.”

“If you can run faster than before, it will be the mutation—the Source fueling it—but it’s not the same as what you were doing today.” A mischievous glint settled in his eyes. “Or are you feeling tired? If so, I’m sure I can carry you back. Here.” He tugged on my hand. “You can hop on my back—”

“I don’t need you to carry me.” I pulled my hand free. “Let’s do it. Where are we running to?”

That boyish grin of his surfaced, the one that made it feel like there was a nest of carnivorous butterflies in my chest. “Back to the house. You can find it from here?”

“If we cut through the field, yes.”

“Then let’s do it. On the count of three.”

There was no time to second-guess this or ask questions. Luc fired off the countdown, and when he hit three, he was already a blur of motion, racing into the knee-high weeds.

“Dammit!” I shouted.

His wild laugh echoed around me, and I cursed again as I broke out into a run. At first, I noticed nothing different. Luc was so far ahead, he was just a blip, and that was so unfair. How could I not be able to run fast? That would seem to make me a very inefficient Trojan.

I had to be able to run like Luc. I had to.

The hum of energy cranked, and then I wasn’t thumping through the field. I was racing.

I didn’t know exactly what second my speed picked up, but it did, and holy crap on a cracker, I was running fast—so fast that the little pieces of the grass and dirt pelting my cheeks and bare arms stung. There was no burning in my legs or seizing of the stomach and lungs. My heart was racing, but it didn’t feel like it was going to burst out of my chest. Up ahead, Luc came more into focus. I was catching up to him.

I moved so fast it was almost like flying.

And it was freeing. There was no room for thoughts as the wind whipped strands of hair from the knot I’d twisted the hair back into that morning. I wasn’t thinking about what I’d done, what it could mean, and what it might not. No space to think about Jason Dasher or the Daedalus. There was no room for the throat-clogging mixture of grief and anger that accompanied any thoughts of my mom. I didn’t worry about Heidi or Emery or James as I ran. I didn’t wonder if Nate would come back and how many more kids were out there, barely getting by. There was just the song of my pounding heart and the crunch of grass under my sneakers.

When I overtook Luc and blew past him, I knew I was going to beat him, and I did, slowing down only when I reached the front door and all but threw it open.

I spun, breathing fast but not heavy. Luc appeared in the doorway a heartbeat or two after me, hair blown back from his face in wild waves.

Laughing even as my heart still pounded, I backed up into the living room. “I can’t believe