Pick us back

chapter 10

I wince as Julian pulls glass out of my hair , feeling Marcus brush the warm damp cloth against my cheek I lean against the back of the couch feeling lightheaded you guys don't need to deal with this i can do it , Julian flicks my nose shut up nova stop trying to be the bad ass

Stop thinking, Nova," Ezra whispered, noticing the way she was staring at Julian. "Your brain is in a fog. Just breathe."

Julian dropped the last piece of glass onto the tray with a final ping. He stood up, looking down at her with a look that was half-protective and half-possessive. "The shower is already running. There's a robe in there. Go. Wash the smell of that house off you."

As Nova stood up, still wobbly, Marcus moved to assist her, but he stopped himself, letting her find her own balance while staying close enough to catch her if she fell. She didn't fully understand it yet, but as she looked at the three of them—her rescuers, her captors, her childhood ghosts—she knew one thing for certain.

The girl who walked into that tattoo shop this morning was gone. but whoever this new girl is she's stronger then ever before

The shower was a sanctuary of steam and heat, the water turning a dark, muddy red as it washed away the dirt, the blood, and the memory of her mother's hands. As the fog cleared,

Nova's fingers traced a faint, jagged scar on her hip—a relic from a summer ten years ago, a fall from a tree when three boys had been there to catch her. The memory was blurry, like a dream she'd been forced to forget, but the feeling was the same: she was safe.

The silence after the water stopped was almost louder than the roar of the bikes had been. The steam curled around Nova in thick, heavy ribbons, pressing against her skin like a physical weight. She stood there, trembling, her hands braced against the cold tile wall as she forced herself to breathe.

In. Out. The memory of the fall—the feeling of being caught—was a ghost she couldn't quite grab hold of. It sat in the back of her mind, blurred and distorted, making her head throb with a dull, aching confusion. She shook her head violently, as if she could physically rattle the pieces of her past back into place, but the harder she tried to remember, the more the images slipped through her fingers.She looked down at her hands. They were clean for the first time in years. No ink stains, no blood, no grime from the shop. Just raw, pale skin.

She opened the door, the cool air of the hallway hitting her like a slap.

The house felt different now—less like a fortress and more like a stage where the next act of her life was about to begin.

She could hear the low rumble of their voices from the living area. They weren't yelling anymore; they were talking in the low, urgent tones of men planning their next move.

Marcus: "...we can't move her yet. The perimeter is solid."

Julian: "I've already scrubbed the street cams. As far as the police are concerned, that house was a random dealer hit."

Ezra: "She's not a 'move,' Marcus. She's Nova. And she's awake."

They all went silent the moment they heard her footsteps on the wood floor.

The Confrontation

Nova stepped into the light, her wet hair clinging to the robe, her hand still instinctively clutching the hidden roll of cash in the pocket. She didn't look like a victim anymore; she looked like someone who was tired of being lied to.

"I want the truth," she said, her voice cracking but holding firm. "No more warnings. No more 'staying away

Julian looks up at her you want the truth ... here it is..