Shadow Me (Shatter Me, #4.5)

by Tahereh Mafi

I lived with Adam and James for months. I saw the cycle every night.

I watched, every night, as Adam tried to calm James down. How he’d rock his little brother in his arms until the sun came up.

I was terrified, unconsciously flickering in and out of invisibility.

He didn’t even seem to mind that I’d ransacked his personal belongings. Instead, he picked up the photo album in my lap and told me about his own family. It was the first time I’d ever seen him cry.

“Who’s Nouria?” I look up to see Haider studying me curiously. “His cat,” I say.

“Hatha shlon damaghsiz,” Haider says to his sister. “Let’s go.” “Okay—wait—that sounded like it might be a compliment.” “Nope.” Nazeera smiles wider. “He just said you’re an idiot.”

This thing is a scene. There are around six hundred commanders and regents—officers at the same level as Warner—in the audience, and the place is buzzing.

The group of us are standing behind her, onstage with her, and I’m not going to lie—it feels a little risky. We’re perfect targets for any psycho who might show up with a gun.

we all agreed that standing united like this would send the strongest message.

And then she starts shouting. This is bad. This is really, really bad, and my instincts are telling me to panic, that this will only end in bloodshed. I’m trying to look around and still keep my cool,

but when Warner catches my eye I know, right away, that he gets it. We’re both thinking the same thing: Abort mission.

“This was an ambush. Tell your team to run. Now.” I spin around in an exaggerated motion, so freaked out I nearly lose my balance. I’m hearing Nazeera. I’m hearing Nazeera.

The crowd has gone deathly still in the aftermath. People are staring at Juliette like they didn’t believe the rumors.

Brendan is on the ground. Winston is sobbing. Desperately, I push through my teammates, falling to my knees to assess the wound.

mean, I knew Juliette was strong—and I knew we hadn’t discovered the depth of her powers—but I never imagined she’d be capable of this.

Of this: The ceiling is splitting open. Seismic currents are thundering up the walls, across the floors, chattering my teeth. The ground is rumbling under my feet. People are frozen in place even as they shake, the room vibrating around them. The chandeliers swing too fast and the lights flicker ominously. And then, with one last vibration, three of the massive chandeliers rip free from the ceiling and shatter as they hit the floor.

Juliette just murdered six hundred people at once. There’s no recovering from this.

I start hauling her backward. Her limp body is heavier than I expect, and she makes a small, wheezing sound that’s almost like a sob.

What happens next knocks the wind from my lungs.

I blink fast, convinced I’m losing my mind, but when I look around the room I see the audience members begin to stir. Their shirts are torn and their faces are scratched, but no one appears to be dead. Instead, they begin to stand,