Chapter 3
1085 Words
Nova’s POV.
I stayed in my room all day, wrapped in my hoodie, curled beneath the covers wishing I could just disappear.
My mother knocked a few times, asking if I was alright, but I mumbled excuses like a headache, cramps, anything to keep her out.
I didn't want to see anyone until I had gotten over this feeling.
This was what heartbreak felt like but I never got to experience it, because I never got to date anyone.
By evening, I thought I might be safe from the world. But then she came in without knocking.
“Nova,” Mom said gently, standing at the edge of my bed.
“The ball I told you about is tonight. The celebration at the packhouse. Everyone will be there… and I want you with me.”
“I don’t feel like celebrating,” I mumbled, pulling the blanket higher.
“I know something’s wrong with you dear,” she said softly, sitting beside me.
“But I also know hiding won’t fix it, so please just come. Do it for me.”
I didn’t dare to say no.
So I showered quickly and allowed her to dress me in one of the gowns she had bought last week.
A sleek, midnight-blue dress that hugged my body and left my shoulders bare.
My dark curls were tamed and pinned with silver clips, and she even swiped some gloss across my lips before stepping back to admire me.
“You look so stunning,” she whispered.
I didn’t feel stunning, I felt… hunted.
Fragile.
But I forced a smile anyway.
For her.
The packhouse was buzzing with life when we arrived.
Strings of silver lights glowed against the high ceilings, and the scent of roasted meats, fresh pine, and perfumes filled the air.
The pack of wolves were dressed to impress, tuxedos, gowns, laughter, and clinking glasses.
It looked like something out of a royal fantasy.
I scanned the crowd, and my breath hitched.
There he was.
He stood near the bar, surrounded by a group of girls who laughed too loudly and leaned in too close.
He looked different, dressed in a tailored black suit, hair slicked back just enough to make him look older and dangerous.
He held a drink in one hand and wore a charming smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
He hadn’t noticed me yet but I noticed everything.
How his arm brushed against the redhead’s shoulder.
How the brunette twirled her hair and pressed herself closer. How did he let them?
My wolf whimpered, her pain flaring again.
“He’s ours,” she cried.
I clenched my fists.
No, I corrected, not if he doesn’t want to be.
“Hey,” a voice said behind me. “You’re Nova, right?”
I turned to see a tall, sandy-haired guy with playful blue eyes and a crooked smile.
He wore his suit like it was a costume, slightly rumpled and casual, but somehow it worked for him.
I recognised him immediately.
Troy Reign.
Logan’s best friend, also his teammate, and nearly as infamous .
I am a big fan of Logan, and of course, I know almost everything about him.
“Have we met before?” I asked.
He held out a hand totally ignoring my questions.
“Troy. We didn’t get to meet earlier.”
I shook it, surprised by the warmth in his touch.
“Nova.”
“Right. The stepsister.” He winked, teasing.
“And here I thought Killian didn’t have any daughters.”
“I’m not his daughter,” I said quickly. “Just… his wife’s kid.”
“Even better,” Troy said with a grin. “You wanna dance?”
I hesitated, glancing once more at Logan, who had finally noticed me.
His green eyes locked with mine across the room, and he didn’t smile, he didn’t frown. But his stare burned like wildfire.
Jealousy.
It was a flicker. A spark. But I saw it.
And suddenly, I smiled.
“Sure,” I said to Troy. “I would love to dance.”
He led me onto the dance floor just as the music shifted into something slow and intimate.
He wasn’t a great dancer, he even admitted it but he was funny, kind, and didn't hover too close.
I laughed at his lame jokes, tossed my hair, and let my hand linger on his chest longer than necessary.
Logan was watching and I wanted him to keep watching us.
If he could flirt with half the room, then I could flirt with his best friend.
“You’ve got all eyes on you,” Troy murmured into my ear. “Especially one pair in particular.”
I tilted my head. “Who?”
He nodded subtly toward Logan. “Mr. Broody over there has been staring holes into me for the last five minutes.”
“Let him,” I said softly.
Troy raised a brow. “You like messing with him, huh?”
I offered a sly smile. “Let’s just say… he started it.”
He laughed. “Damn. I knew this summer was gonna be fun, but I didn’t expect fireworks.”
Troy spun me once, his hand resting low on my waist, Logan’s jaw clenched across the room.
The brunette beside him said something, but he didn’t respond. He was too busy watching me.
Good, I want him to feel it.
Let him feel everything he walked away from.
He wanted to pretend our bond was a curse and forbidden, I was going to make sure he regretted every second of it.
Maybe I couldn’t make him love me, but I could make him want me at least.
And that was a start.
The moment Troy spun me back into his arms again, I saw Logan move.
It was subtle, just a slight shift of his shoulders as he handed off his drink and excused himself from the girls who clung to him like leeches.
But my wolf sat up with a growl of satisfaction. She felt his tension, she wanted his reaction.
“Good,” I whispered to her. “Let him come.”
“I think your stepbrother is about to lose it,” Troy murmured with a chuckle.
“Should I be worried for my life?”
I smirked and tilted my head as Logan stalked toward us like a predator closing in on prey.
“Maybe but I’ll protect you.”
Troy grinned. “Now that’s hot.”
- Writer
