Hundreds of people moved past me, all in more of a hurry than me—a stream of humanity flowing beneath the multi-colored lights of the many screens and neon signs hanging from the high-rises on either side of the walkway.

I mulled over Jace's words, tried to let them make me feel better, but I kept sticking on the last thing he'd said about Seth. Seth is who the world made him become.

That sat wrong in my gut. It twisted. Yet, I couldn’t deny the truth of it, the ugly reality. We lived in an era where the world wasn’t entirely our own anymore, and we barely understood the invaders. People had to adapt and do it quickly. Maybe to survive, I also had to become who the world wanted.

My gaze fell back down to my dirty and bloodied hands. They clenched into fists. My eyes, heavy and stinging, closed. I couldn’t help but wonder if Seth had a point. If, just maybe, I was being reckless and stubborn.

Despite the relentless hours and immense creative energy I’d poured into boneforging—and being taken seriously as one—maybe I didn’t belong in the rifts after all. Maybe this off-hand promotion was, in fact, proof that Seth was right. President Valera didn’t care that this haphazard promotion could get me killed.

I opened my eyes and started walking again. Maybe I should just keep my head down and know my place…

“Our place…”

The words drifted back through the years unexpectedly, dropping me down into that ring of uncomfortable chairs. “Our place is right where we are. This is how civilization began! With a group of… of ordinary people.”

The way the man leading the support group had stumbled over his own words stuck with me more than the words themselves. If I’d learned anything from being around other Reds, it was that none of them believed that “we’re just as good in our own way” bullshit.

Know my place…

The thought made me angry. Rather than wallow, I preferred to burn my anger like fuel for all the late nights and early mornings I put in. I had to. Without raden, I needed tenacity, creativity, a burning sense of purpose. I would make something that was going to change this world. Something brilliant. Something unrivaled and unquestionably needed.

Between one breath and the next, fatigue swallowed my anger. The dried veilgator blood was peeling up from my skin, leaving it raw and red, and my ruined clothes were starting to chafe.

After the first ten minutes or so, my solo walk didn’t feel so liberating anymore, but I powered on until I reached the revolving doors of the high-rise apartment building I called home. Craning my neck, I stared up at the lightning rod at the very top: a single red light briefly flashed in the night sky.

Steeling myself, I walked through the rotating doors and across the lobby, past the dozens of mailboxes on the right wall, toward the row of elevators at the back. I ignored the receptionist behind the main desk, who scrunched her nose in disgust at my state, and punched a button.

I was all too aware of how much worse I smelled after hours of walking.

Thankfully it was late, and the opening elevator stood vacant. As the doors closed and the machinery began to whir, I leaned against the rear wall and shut my eyes. My chest tightened with nerves, and there was a stiff knot in my neck that wouldn’t release.

Too soon, the elevator slowed to a stop. I stalked toward the third door on the left.

Damn. I’d left my pack, and the keys inside, in Seth’s jeep.

Before I could knock, the apartment door flung open. Hanna, Seth’s wife, stood in the entryway of our shared apartment, her brows pinched with worry. She cradled her heavily pregnant belly with one hand and held the doorknob with the other as she studied my face.

“You know, five more minutes and you’d have been responsible for making a pregnant lady waddle through the streets at night to look for you.” She got a whiff and pulled a face. “I guess I could have sniffed you out pretty quick, at least.”

“Sorry.” My shoulders relaxed, and I offered her a weak smile. “You shouldn't have waited up for me, though.”

“Apology accepted,” she said with a sagely nod as she stepped aside.

A fat ginger cat trotted down the hallway as I entered and slipped between my legs, rubbing against my ankles as he sniffed at the bloodstains on my pants. I scooped him into my arms, and he purred as he licked the dried remnants on my sleeve.

“Stop eating my shirt, Milo. That’s gross.”

“I made you some dinner.” Hanna shut the door behind me. “It’s cold, but it’s something. I know you probably haven’t eaten all day.”

She shuffled down the hallway, one hand on the small of her back, and I followed her to the kitchen. Blue light flickered across the dark floor as we passed the living room, and I caught the tail end of a muted news broadcast about the monolith being built around the rift Seth and I had left earlier that evening. I paused, hands in my pockets as I watched the recorded clip of the scaffolding going up in the daylight, but it quickly switched to a commercial.

As I joined Hanna in the kitchen, a tea kettle whistled. She grabbed a potholder off the counter and lifted the kettle off the gas range, pouring the boiling water into a simple teacup with a cherry blossom painted along the side. The scent of jasmine wafted up with the steam.

Milo jumped out of my hands and landed deftly on the floor before trotting over to his food bowl against the kitchen wall.

“Hanna, please sit down. You shouldn’t be on your feet.”

She pursed her lips and waved away my concern. “I can lift a teapot, Torrin. If you’re so concerned, you can grab your plate from the fridge and heat it.”

“I’m not hungry,” I lied.

She raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not just saying that because you want to go to bed and avoid a confrontation with Seth over what happened today?”

I felt my ears turn red. “You already heard?”

“Yes, I did, although I’m not sure if I’m supposed to congratulate you or console you.”

“Or you could just scold my ass like Seth did.”

“Language,” Hanna chided gently.

“Sorry, little bean,” I told the baby. “I meant to say tushy.”

“And here I was wondering why you’ve never brought a girl back home…” Hanna rolled her eyes.

“They're all too intimidated by my pursuit of excellence,” I quipped before giving her a tired smile. “But really, I think I’m just going to turn in early. Thank you, though.”

Hanna sighed and returned the kettle to the stove. She lifted the teacup to her face and watched me over the brim.

I looked away. I didn’t want to risk seeing the pity on her face.

“Don’t stay mad at Seth,” she said quietly. “You know that what he says is out of love.”

Though I was in the process of turning to leave, I paused to hear her out.

“And even if he comes off as callous and blunt, he really does care.” She winced as she shifted her weight and set her free hand on her belly. “He just doesn’t know how to tell you. He never knows what to say. You know how he is with emotion.”

She smiled, and her eyes lost focus. “I mean, for goodness sake, he proposed to me with all the romance of putting on a pair of socks.” Huffing, she gave a little shake of her head. “He’s never been one for words or feelings, Torrin. You know that.”

I wanted to ask her why everyone was so ready to tell me what my brother felt except Seth himself, but I couldn’t bring myself to argue with her. Instead, I answered simply, “Yeah.”

“Well, if you won’t eat, at least go shower.” She grimaced. “I don’t even know how you can smell that bad.”

“Through hard work and dedication,” I said dryly, pumping my fist. “Good night, Hanna.”

“Good night,” she said into her teacup.

Milo’s low purr rumbled through the kitchen as I headed for my room. I set my hand on the doorknob, hesitating as I glanced at Seth and Hanna’s closed bedroom door at the far end of the hall.

You shouldn’t have put yourself in that situation, Seth’s voice rang in my head.

My grip on the doorknob tightened.

This is the perfect opportunity to test your resolve, Colter’s voice countered. Look death in the eye. Prove to everyone—especially yourself—that you can keep a cool head even in the thick of it.

Colter understood. Better than Seth did, anyway. And he was right.

I shoved my way into my room and shut the door behind me. Before heading into my bathroom to clean up, I sat down in front of my tiny writing desk and flipped open my notebook.

It was filled with notes and scribbles: my formulas for cleaning solvents, designs for armor and weapon improvements, drawings of parabeasts, and a hundred other ideas I hadn’t tested yet.

Instead of accomplishment, I only saw how people would react when they found out that the developer behind these ideas wasn’t even capable of harnessing the raden necessary to use them.

But I refused to be defined by my lack of raden. It didn’t matter that I didn’t glow with radiation or that I’d never grow enough to look them dead in the eye. When I was done, they’d see me.