Imagine Me (Shatter Me #6) - Tahereh Mafi Page 0,10

eyes are squeezed shut, her jaw unhinged. She’s radiating energy. It’s fucking terrifying.

And I can barely keep up.

The ache in my arms has begun to creep up my shoulders and down my back and I shiver, violently, when a sharp wind strikes my bare, overheated skin.

“Let’s try,” Warner says.

I nod.

Take a deep breath.

Beg myself to be stronger than I am.

I don’t know how I do it, but through nothing short of a miracle, I make it to my feet. Warner and I manage to bind Juliette between us, and when I look over at him, I’m at least relieved to discover that he looks like he’s struggling, too. I’ve never seen Warner struggle, not really, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him sweat. But as much as I’d love to laugh a little right now, the sight of him straining so hard just to hold on to her only sends a fresh wave of fear through me. I have no idea how long he’s been trying to restrain her all by himself. I have no idea what would’ve happened to her if he hadn’t been there to hold on. And I have no idea what would happen to her right now, if we were to let go.

Something about that realization gives me renewed strength. It takes choice out of the situation. J needs us right now, period.

Which means I have to be stronger.

Standing upright like this has made us an easy target in all this madness, and I call out a warning as a piece of debris flies toward us. I pivot sharply to protect J, but take a hit to my spine, the pain so breathtaking I’m seeing stars. My back was already injured earlier tonight, and the bruises are bound to be worse now. But when Warner locks eyes with me in a sudden, terrified panic, I nod, letting him know I’m okay. I’ve got her.

Inch by agonizing inch, we move back toward the Sanctuary.

We’re dragging J like she’s Jesus between us, her head flung backward, feet dragging across the ground. She’s finally stopped screaming, but now she’s convulsing, her body seizing uncontrollably, and Warner looks like he’s hanging on to his sanity by a single, fraying thread.

It feels like centuries pass before we see Nazeera again, but the rational part of my brain suspects it must’ve been only twenty, thirty minutes. Who knows. I’m sure she was trying her best to get back here with people who could help, but it feels like we’re too late. Everything feels too late.

I have no idea what the hell is happening anymore.

Yesterday, this morning—an hour ago—I was worried about James and Adam. I thought our problems were simple and straightforward: get the kids back, kill the supreme commanders, have a nice lunch.

But now—

Nazeera and Castle and Brendan and Nouria rush to a sudden stop before us. They look between us.

They look beyond us.

Their eyes go round, their lips parting as they gasp. I crane my neck to see what they’re seeing and realize that there’s a tidal wave of fire headed straight toward us.

I think I’m going to collapse.

My body is worse than unsteady. By this point, my legs are made of rubber. I can barely support my own weight, and it’s a miracle I’m holding on to J at all. In fact, a quick glance at Warner’s clenched, insanely tense body is all it takes to realize that he’s probably doing most of the work right now.

I don’t know how any of us are going to survive this. I can’t move. I sure as hell can’t outrun a wave of fire.

And I don’t really understand everything that happens next.

I hear an inhuman cry, and Stephan is suddenly rushing toward us. Stephan. He’s suddenly in front of us, suddenly between us. He picks J up and into his arms like she might be a rag doll, and starts shouting at all of us to run. Castle hangs back to redirect water from a nearby well, and though his efforts at dousing the flames aren’t entirely successful, it’s enough to give us the edge we need to escape. Warner and I drag ourselves back to camp with the others, and the minute we cross the threshold into the Sanctuary, we’re met with a frantic sea of faces. Countless figures surge forward, their shouts and cries and hysterical commotion fusing into a single, unbroken soundstorm. Logically, I understand why people are out here, worried, crying, shouting unanswered questions at each other—but