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The Renegades made mistakes. They broke their promises. They lied. And they could not be left to rule the world unchecked.
Danna’s face crumpled apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Adrian, but … it’s her.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Nova is Nightmare.”
“Evidence of your crimes against society and the Renegades.” He winced, as though he were in physical pain, when he said, “You’re under arrest … Nightmare.”
She was living her worst nightmare.
He didn’t care about any of that. Hope and clarity swelled inside him. Nova was innocent.
In his left hand was a bouquet of flowers—the most vivid sunshine-yellow daisies Nova had ever seen in her life. In his right hand was a tool belt similar to the one Nova had worn over her Renegade uniform.
“Yeah, I am afraid that I’m going to fail again,” she said, still peering into the nothingness of Phobia’s face. “But one cannot be brave who has no fear.”
“He created Phobia,” she whispered, taking the child’s drawing from Narcissa and inspecting it with mounting dread. She was startled to find her vision misting as she tried to imagine what Adrian would feel if he knew the truth. “He created the monster that killed his mother.”
Everyone has a nightmare. Welcome to yours.
“Everyone has a nightmare,” she said. “I guess I’m yours.”
One cannot be awed who has no soul, just as one cannot be brave who has no fear …
Everyone has a nightmare.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Maybe I want you to be mine.”
“What would you think if … if a villain happened to fall in love with your son?”
Just like some people were always meant to be villains.
