Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Victor parked his car in the parking lot of his mansion he let out a sigh of relief. Vera, Vargas, and the rest of the gang were right on his heels. This was their home, their territory, their safe place. Away from his aunt's goons. Away from the cruel world.
They parked their own Cars as well and got out, everyone immediately setting off to their assigned duties, except for Vargas and Vera, who stood near his car, hesitant, checking if he was okay, if Nova was okay.
Nova. He turned his gaze towards the mentioned girl, who was unconscious in the passenger's seat.
How did they end up here? How did things get out of control in a few hours?
He had thought of about ten different plans and had imagined at least fifty different scenarios of how to break it to Nova. But he hadn't imagined this. He hadn't expected his aunt to reach her that quickly, on his watch! He never wanted to see her in that situation, or have her knocked out in his car, or to have knocked her out HIMSELF!
But in his defense, it was Vera's plan in the first place. She had convinced him- within five minutes,-because the ambush was not expected-, if things got out of control, sedating Nova was their best shot. And she wasn't wrong. If they hadn't done so, Nova was probably going to pass out eventually, due to her medical condition. And if not, she was going to freak out or start questioning them when they were safe, and Victor wouldn't hear the end of it. Although all he wanted was to keep her safe in every way, it still didn't make the guilt go away. He needed another few hours to sort things out after the events of the night( which wasn't technically over since it was only 2a.m.), then talk to Nova in person, properly. And hope that she would understand him, understand his decisions, his character, his life. Not immediately but eventually.
Because after everything he had done to get here, without Nova, a part of him was broken, incomplete, lost.
With that, he rested his forehead on the wheel, then loosened his grip on it. He took a deep breath and got out of the car. He gave a slight dismissal nod to Vera and Vargas. When they left, he went to the other side and opened Nova's door, kissed the crown of her head, and lifted her up gently, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I've promised to protect you at any cost sunshine, and I'd rather die than break my promise."

Chapter Text

Nova Bright was one of the luckiest girls in the bustling city of Seabrook.

She had loving parents, a sweet but annoyingly protective brother (well, an adoptive brother, but she never saw their lack of blood connection as a problem—as her parents didn't, either). She had a roof over her head and a reputation tied to the "Bright" surname that had been established over decades.

Her father, Daniel, was the police chief of Seabrook, and her mother, Elanor, was a former police officer who had resigned earlier than expected to raise her and Raymond.

Nova and Ray were not the first members of their family to want to join the police force. In Seabrook, law-related careers were highly valued, especially because there was a darker place beneath the town’s blue, sunny sky called Shadyside. There, criminals, mafia operatives, and mob bosses inflicted horror upon innocent citizens. In fact, Shadyside didn’t refer to a specific area, as it wasn’t like a children’s TV show where all the villains lived in a well-known spot, easily avoidable by the heroes. No, the criminals lurked in the shadows, invisible to untrained eyes. Even professionals often struggled to locate most of them. However, the Bright family had a reputation for managing Shadyside's threats better than anyone else.

Nova and Ray couldn't be prouder of carrying the Bright surname.

Ray, however, did not have the same luck with his original family. When he was a toddler, his parents divorced, and his mother disappeared, clearly wanting nothing to do with her husband or son. His father, who had been Nova's father's coworker and best friend, was killed on a mission when Ray was only seven.

This was how Nova's parents welcomed Ray into their family with open arms.

After months of paperwork, Nova gained a brother at the age of five. She couldn’t have wished for any brother other than Ray, as they had already become good friends during his visits when their fathers were on missions. Though she felt sad for Ray’s loss and the grief he had to endure at such a young age, as they grew older, he overcame his struggles and settled into the Bright family. He became as proud of his father and his new family as Nova was. Together, they made an oath to continue their family legacy, which led them to beg her their parents to train them when Raymond was nine and Nova was seven, and although Elanor was a bit uncertain about starting their training at such a young age, Daniel seemed delighted that they were this determined about following their path and he believed they were at the best age.

And so their training began.

Daniel was generally a generous man, but when it came to his duties—whether chasing criminals, training troops, or mentoring his own children—he was incredibly serious.
He set strict rules for the kids at home, covering their diet, sleep schedule, playtime, screen time, and study hours. His rules were stricter than those of typical parents. Occasionally, he would surprise or even scare the kids in a healthy way, which would remind them to sharpen their senses and always be prepared for the unexpected. When it came to teaching self-defense and martial arts, he was relentless.Most days, their house felt no different than the barracks they had trained in during earlier times.

Elanor, however, wasn’t entirely satisfied with this approach. She believed Daniel was pushing the kids' limits unnecessarily; they had plenty of time to learn these skills. Yet, she felt she couldn't argue against his methods, especially since both Nova and Raymond seemed so passionate about their goals—perhaps it was in their genes. Instead, Elanor took it upon herself to ensure the kids still had fun. She created special rewards and treats for every great achievement, joined her husband and children in weekend training sessions, challenged them to one-on-one combat, and entertained them with playful failures or exaggerated successes, always finding ways to bring smiles to their faces.

Ray was strong and relied on aggressive tactics and surprise attacks, similar to Daniel. In contrast, Nova was faster, more agile, and preferred defensive techniques and planned assaults, much like Elanor herself.

Nova thought she couldn't ask for more. She was happy and satisfied with her achievements most of the time, which gave her confidence. However, behind her brilliant smiles, she always had a lingering fear that, when she confronted it, made her shiver and created an unsettling pit in her stomach that wouldn't easily go away.

She was scared of failure and constantly stressed about making mistakes and disappointing her parents. The thought of their disappointed gazes frightened her the most, especially after all they had done for her.

A perfectionist at heart, Nova wanted the best—not in a spoiled way, seeking the latest clothes or gadgets, but rather the best for her family and community, where true values were becoming less important. She believed she could effect great changes.

As she entered junior high, that fear intensified.

In fact, it grew alongside her. She began to freak out over little things: the impression she made on people, even total strangers; her grades; and the minor mistakes she made during training.

Additionally, she experienced physical changes—constant fatigue and tiredness, even when she hadn’t exerted herself. She suffered from brain fog during classes, difficulty concentrating, and an unexplained weakness in her bones, along with a sore body that didn't make sense. Despite excelling in her training sessions, she wondered why she was suddenly becoming weaker instead of stronger.

Her mom assured her that her symptoms were due to puberty and hormonal changes, but Nova wasn't convinced. She noticed that none of her female friends or classmates were experiencing such extreme symptoms daily. Still, as Nova, the girl who was afraid to show weakness, she kept her mouth shut to avoid worrying her parents.

She hoped that whatever she was dealing with would go away soon.

But it did not.

One day, when her dizziness was worse than ever, her body took control, and she collapsed while training with Ray. Thankfully, he had noticed something was wrong and immediately paused his activity to catch her with wide eyes, preventing her from hitting the ground. She let darkness consume her, ignoring her family screaming her name. The next thing she knew, she was in the ER, with an IV saline attached to her arm. Her parents were pacing around with concerned expressions, while doctors looked on, puzzled about what was wrong with her.
It took several episodes of fainting, numerous rushed visits to the ER and local clinic, and countless tests and examinations. With each visit, her parents grew more worried, and their anxiety began to mount.

Finally, after much persistence, the doctors were able to determine what was wrong with her:

Adrenal Fatigue.

"This term, often used by alternative medicine providers, suggests that the adrenal glands are exhausted and unable to produce sufficient hormones, particularly cortisol, due to chronic stress or infections. In essence, her constant anxiety had taken a toll on her hormonal system, affecting her physically.
Unfortunately, since adrenal fatigue is not recognized as a legitimate illness or disorder, there is no permanent cure. The only way to manage the symptoms is through a healthy, calm, and anxiety-free lifestyle, along with some medication."
As the doctor was talking to her parents, the words echoed in her ears.
An anxiety-free lifestyle.

No big deal, right?

Except that those seemingly simple requirements changed everything for her. Being a police officer basically involves danger and anxiety. If she wanted to live a long and healthy life without causing further harm to herself, she would have to give up her lifelong training, her future, and her dreams.

The doctor’s words, “an anxiety-free lifestyle,” didn’t just echo in Nova's ears; they slammed into her chest, knocking the air from her lungs. It sounded like a cruel joke. An anxiety-free lifestyle. As if she could just choose to switch it off. As if she hadn’t spent every conscious moment of her life trying to do exactly that.

She looked at her parents. Her mother’s face was pale, etched with a relief that was instantly overshadowed by a new, deeper terror. They had a name for the fainting, the weakness, the crushing fatigue that made her bones feel like lead. But the name came with a life sentence of caution.

Her father, a practical man who believed in fixes and solutions, who literally shared her dreams, and had been trying to prepare her as long as she could remember, looked lost. “So… what’s the treatment plan? Medication? Therapy?”

The doctor, a kind-faced woman who seemed tired herself, sighed gently. “There’s no standard protocol. It’s about management. Stress reduction. Prioritizing sleep. A balanced diet. Perhaps some supplements to support adrenal function. We’ll treat the symptoms, but the core of it… It’s about eliminating the stressors that cause the depletion.”

Eliminating the stressors.

Nova was the stressor. Her own dream was the poison.All those hours spent running, combating, studying criminal law textbooks, practicing for the entrance exams—it wasn’t preparation anymore. It was self-sabotage. Every moment of envisioning herself in a cruiser, every spike of simulated adrenaline during her workouts, was, according to this diagnosis, actively harming her.

It wasn't that she shouldn't be a police officer. It was that her body would literally break if she tried.

The ride home was silent. As she looked through the window of the back seat to the city she had grown up in, all Nova wanted to do was to go to her room, lock herself up inside, and cry herself to sleep.

But she knew it was impossible.
Her parents wouldn't let her to fo so.

Now that she was thinking, from now on, she probably wasn't going to have much time to spend alone as her parents would worry about her all the time. Her privacy and independence were mostly gone, too.

Great!

Just great!

Instead, she had leaned against Ray's shoulder and she was sobbing as quietly as possible. Damn trying to look strong.

Thank goodness none of them tried to talk to her. Ray had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, shielding her. Just like how she used to do with him when he had nightmares about his parents when they were younger.

Her world had turned upside down in just two hours, or probably not. It hadn't happened just recently, it had happened over the course of time, with every little freaking out that had appeared meaningless at the time.
Her biggest fear had come true, and she couldn't do anything but watch as her future slipped through her fingers like the sand of the Rayburn beach, the southern coast of Seabrook. Her favorite place to go is with her family. Oh, how was she going to look into her parents', Father's eyes and expect them to look at her the same way? Without showing disappointment or sympathy?

As soon as they arrived home, she excused herself to the bathroom to take a shower and avoid her parents' discussion. She took her time, trying to process everything. After crying on Ray's shirt, she felt empty.

She was lost.

Who would she become now? Would she find an alternative dream to pursue?
When she finished her shower and got dressed, her mom suggested that she blow-dry her hair. Unable to reject her mother’s offer, she sat on her bed while her mom sat behind her, gently blow-drying her hair and cradling her scalp.

When her hair became dry and smooth, Elanor began brushing it to braid. It was still progressing, but it wasn't as long as she wanted—just a few inches above her waist.
After what felt like an eternity, her mother finally spoke, her tone as gentle and caring as ever:

"You know, sweetheart, not becoming an officer isn't the end of the world."
-"But how else am I going to bring more justice? All I've ever wanted is to help innocent people," she replied, her voice hoarse from all the crying.
"Nova, the justice system isn't only supported by officers. Our community needs good judges, good lawyers, good detectives, and good investigators just as much as it needs good police officers.

We tend to forget about the people behind the scenes. But tell me this: if the police do their jobs properly and arrest the criminals, but the judge fails, will the criminals receive the punishment they deserve?

If the lawyer doesn’t know what he’s doing, will the victims have their rights upheld?

If it weren't for detectives, would the police even have the chance to arrest the wanted in the first place?

You should look at the bigger picture; it’s not just about one specific job or another. All of these people work together to achieve justice. Well, at least the ones who truly care do. If justice is what you really want, there's more than one way to get it. "

That actually made Nova think. Then she remembered she always had another reason that made her want to be an officer so badly.

She lowered her head and whispered, "But… I want to continue our family's legacy. That's what the Brights always do!

I want to make you proud. I can't let all the training, the lessons you've taught us, and everything you've done for us be for nothing."
She was grateful that her loose bangs were covering her ashamed face; she couldn’t bear to look at her mother.

Understanding that her daughter's greatest fear was disappointing them, Elanor felt her heart shatter into pieces. Despite all their efforts to make their children happy, had they inadvertently placed a burden on them that was too heavy to bear by seemingly supporting their dreams?

Did Nova and Ray want to follow in their footsteps only because they felt they had to?

She let go of Nova's half-finished braid, got up, and sat in front of her, gently tilting her chin up so she would be looking her in the eye and see how sincere she was in that moment. "Oh, my starlight, we don't care what path you choose to follow. As long as you have good intentions, we will support you and be there for you, no matter what. What we care about most is your well-being."

"Your mom is right," a new voice came from the doorway. Both mother and daughter turned around to see Daniel and Ray.

Her father came closer and placed his hand on her shoulder in support.
"We're a family, Nova. Whatever obstacles come our way, we will always face them together. You'll encounter more ups and downs as you grow, and the outside world isn't merciful, but the best thing you can do is keep your heart and soul pure. As long as you stick to what you believe is right and trust your gut feeling, you'll be fine."

Then Ray, who had been quiet until now, stepped forward, grabbed her hands, and said, "Come on, Nov, this isn't you. You can't let that stupid Adernal whatever bring you down. This isn't the little sister I know." He then pulled her to her feet and hugged her. It was strange to get used to Ray being a few inches taller than her, but she wasn't complaining—not now that her guard was down. At least he didn't throw that fact in her face, which he enjoyed doing.

For the first time that day, Nova let out a slight laugh. "Thank you, guys. I think I needed to hear that."

Ray teased her, "Heh. What would you do without us?"

Nova rolled her eyes, then came up with a playful idea.

She separated from him but stayed close, grinning. "You know, Ray, just because I won't be training as often as before doesn't mean I won’t be able to kick your butt." With that, she threw both of them onto her bed.
Ray immediately got up and grabbed her pillow. "Oh, we'll see about that, shorty!"
Nova snatched her other pillow and lunged forward. "How dare you!"
"Raymond and Nova Bright, you better behave yourselves! You're all grown up now,” their mom shouted, mocking them, while their dad shook his head, laughing quietly at the sudden change in mood.

The rest of the evening was spent in pillow fights and light-hearted jokes. Nova knew her struggles and challenges had only just begun.

It would take emotional family talks and therapy sessions for her to learn better control over her untamed anxiety. She started focusing on another career that would fulfill her dreams of bringing justice and helping the innocent while keeping her safe.

Chapter Text

"Choose your friends wisely, kids. Beware of fake friends. A fake friend can be more dangerous than a clever enemy..." 

These were the words Ray and Nova had heard from their parents more times than they could count, especially before each school year began.

They didn’t fully understand what their parents meant when they were younger. They had many friends who enjoyed spending time with them, and they relished the attention. However, as they grew older, the weight of those words began to resonate.

Their parents had established good social connections, and their status meant maintaining relationships with officials and influential people. Even their mom, who had primarily been a housewife since Nova was born, received numerous high-profile job offers. Nova knew that her mother's best chance for a career in politics was to become one of the city councilors as one of her friends had offered her. Well, Nova knew her mom was planning to accept it after Nova graduated and gained legal independence.

Not that Nova planned to live on her own after graduation; even if she wanted to, her parents wouldn’t allow it. Ray, who had recently graduated, also had no intention of leaving home anytime soon. 

None of this bothered her. 

She still felt as proud of her family's accomplishments as she had when she was younger.

 What truly annoyed her was the assumption that having Daniel and Elanor Bright as parents automatically gave people advantages by befriending them—even among their peers!

If only they knew her parents were too modest to take advantage of their position or play dirty to have more income than they already had, let alone help strangers in ways that contradicted their values.

This hadn’t caused her problems in junior high. However, Ray had warned her that high school could be a toxic environment if she wasn't wary. After spending most of the summer before high school trying to adjust to her new lifestyle, learning how to manage her anxiety and overreactions, researching various law-related careers besides becoming an officer(She had chosen to work hard to get accepted into the law school, by the way.), and balancing her life, making friends was not her top priority.

Nova hadn't suddenly turned into an antisocial person; she simply wanted to keep her condition hidden from others. As much as possible.

 She knew that if the wrong people found out about it, rumors would start spreading throughout the school, and likely the entire city in no time.

God knew how much people liked to gossip and create rumors. Not to mention they could use that information against her family....

The first year of high school was, let's say, quite uneventful. Her episodes had been occurring less frequently, and they rarely happened at school. During those times, Ray was always there to help her calm down before she fainted or drew anyone's attention.

In fact, Ray had taken it upon himself to stay close during free periods and lunch. She would usually roll her eyes at his appearance whenever she was alone, yet when he made her spend time with his basketball teammates, she found herself enjoying his company. (Yes, Ray was a talented basketball player and had been the captain of the school's basketball team for two years.)

His friends and their partners were generally kind to her, mostly because they knew that if they weren't, Ray would not hesitate to confront anyone who dared to bother his sister. She had tried to explain that she was perfectly capable of protecting herself, but eventually gave up, knowing that some things never changed—Ray being a hothead was one of those things.

The second year had been challenging for Nova, especially since she felt alone without Ray. Not that she would ever admit it to him in person.

Occasionally, she joined a group of friends, including some of her old junior high friends, like Apollo and Sonia. However, they were very close, and Nova often felt like an outsider around them.

Ray's absence wasn't the only noticeable change. 

Three of the students had transferred to their school that year, which had turned into a heated discussion among the student groups. Because almost everything about the Ashlin cousins drew attention.

Their names were Vera, Victor, and Vargas—three cousins with distinct personalities.

Vera, the only girl in the trio, embodied the "sigma girl" archetype. She was tall, stylish, confident, and extremely cold to those around her, other than her cousins. With tanned skin, striking Abyssinian eyes, and flowing black wavy hair, that was always put up in a ponytail, a single glance from her was enough to make anyone think twice before crossing her.

Vargas was definitely more social than his two cousins. He often joked around and spoke sarcastically, but he was never offensive. Slightly shorter than they were, he had a dark skin tone, dark brown eyes, and black curly hair.

Victor was the tallest among them, with tan skin (though lighter than Vera's), warm brown eyes, and dark, messy brown hair. He lacked Vera's confidence and Vargas's wit, but he was charming, and more than half of the girls would wholeheartedly agree with that as many had tried to flirt with him in the first few weeks, but other than playful winks here or there and polite smiles, he didn't seem to be impressed at all.

He wasn't cold or rude; instead, he seemed pretty laid-back, paying little attention to his surroundings. Most of the time, he was either talking to Vera and Vargas or drawing sketches in his pocket notebook during class, completely absorbed in his own world. 

That was the impression everyone had, until people decided to try to catch him off guard. When the teachers randomly asked questions from the lessons they had just taught, everyone was surprised to see that Victor always answered correctly. Moreover, when some mischievous boys from the class attempted to throw things at him, like paper airplanes, he caught them without ever taking his eyes off his sketch.

However, Nova had definitely caught him glancing at her once or twice during class or lunch time, and he had turned his attention back to his sketch each time, pretending otherwise. 

Surprisingly, though, that hadn't bothered her.

One thing the trio shared was having cherry red streaks in their hair and their preference for dark or neutral clothing, like navy, brown, and especially crimson, black, and gray. Never light, cheerful colors. 

And on top of all, they had minimal interactions with others.

Now, having their hair dyed or wearing dark clothes or being isolated were not taboos, but these acts were simply... uncommon in Seabrook. Many of their classmates had dyed some strips of their hair yellow, pink, blue, purple, or white. But not cherry red. Nova Herself had silver sparkly clip-in extensions. And don't get her started with weird clothing choices some other students made...

She didn't quite understand the fuss. Nobody even knew where they had come from. It could simply be what they were used to acting from where they came from, or something in the family. Why would others care if they had a unique style? Or do they prefer to stay in their own little world and communicate less with others?

One day, everything changed. 

It had been a little over a month since school started, and Ms. Parker, their literature teacher, was sick and had not come to school. As a result, they had the last period before lunch free.

Nova was heading towards the library to do further studying, as she had nothing better to do, most of her classmates were hanging out with their friends in the hallway.

Two boys approached her:

 Leo and his friend Oliver. 

They were perfect examples of fake friends who sought nothing more than to take advantage of others at every opportunity. 

Leo was the only son in a wealthy family. Spoiled and entitled, he believed he could achieve anything he desired, firmly convinced that his father's money could buy him anything—or anyone. 

Now a senior, Leo had been Ray's so-called "best friend" on the basketball team until last year's fiasco. Although Leo had been a bad influence on Ray, Ray was oblivious to it. This behavior had begun to concern their parents. It wasn't until Nova showed Ray evidence of how Leo had talked behind his back and mocked him on social media that he finally understood the truth.

Surprisingly, Ray began to distance himself from Leo without starting a fight or causing a scene. The last straw came when Leo played a cruel prank on him, attempting to embarrass him in front of the entire school. When things took a turn for the worse, Leo tried to portray himself as the victim. It didn’t end well for either of them.

This year, however, after his attempt to be "close friends" with Raymond Bright failed, he came up with the idea of becoming Nova Bright's boyfriend. 

Yeah, that would be the last thing Nova would ever do in her life. 

He had been chasing her around whenever he could, trying to flirt with her, but she consistently ignored him. 

Honestly, it took every fiber of her being to remain patient with the situation, and she knew her patience wouldn’t last forever. Maybe today would be the day it finally snapped.

“Hey, Nov Nov, how's it going?” he said, flashing that irritating smile. Ugh, she hated that nickname. 

“Doing good, thanks for asking. Now, see you later, Leo,” she replied coldly, not even bothering to look at him.

He quickly stepped in front of her to block her path. “Hey, wait! What’s the rush? I thought we could hang out today. You know, you and I have more in common than you think. " 

 Would he ever get tired of repeating himself?

Her patience was definitely wearing thin. 

Dear Lord, please help her.

"You've asked me this about twenty times already, Leo, and my answer remains the same: no. N.O.It's not difficult to understand, even for someone as clueless as you!" 

His mood shifted.

"What did you just say?" 

Nova was doing her best to keep her voice down and avoid causing a scene. 

"You heard me right! You're so clueless and stupid that you think I'm too naive to fall for your trick after what you did to Ray. You really thought I didn't know your plan? How do you want to use me because of my name?!

Now, if you'll excuse me, some of us have more important things to do!" And with that, she passed him, or tried to as he grabbed her arm and leaned closer and whispered to her ear "You better watch your mouth, Nova, wouldn't you like to know what else I'm capable of... " 

The action made her shiver, not from fear but from pure anger. Before she had a chance to think, her reflexes took over. She grabbed his arm and flipped him to the ground. 

A few shocked gasps, including her own, made her realize what she had done. She didn't realize they had an audience, and she didn't want to consider how it might look to others that she had just flipped someone onto their back without any apparent reason. 

Before she could step back, Oliver—who Nova had completely forgotten about—grabbed her from behind and Leo immediately got back up, getting closer to her, much more threatening than before.

 He hissed "Oh, you're gonna pay you little-" 

"STAY AWAY FROM HER!"

Someone grabbed his shirt by the collar and pinned him to the lockers beside them.

 It was Victor, reflecting the anger Nova had shown earlier, now replaced by stress. There was something in his eyes that Nova had never seen before—coldness in a way that made even Leo, who was older and taller than him, seem small in that moment.

If Victor were here, it meant his cousins were not far behind.

When she no longer felt Oliver's hands on her shoulders, Nova glanced behind her and saw that Vera had stepped beside her, glaring daggers at Oliver. He took a few steps back.

Vargas stood nearby, with his phone in hand, a smirk playing on his lips. 

"What are you doing? Are you her bodyguard or something, Vampire boy?" Leo tried to act chill, trying to mask his own fear, but his eyes betrayed him.

 The comment made her blood boil, and she would have punched him in the face herself, without feeling sorry about it this time, if she hadn't been frozen in place and slightly dizzy from everything happening around her.

 In Seabrook, the word "Vampire" carried a different connotation than it did elsewhere; here, it was offensive, accusatory, and associated with bad blood

The term was commonly used to refer to murderers and serial killers from Shadyside, almost like an assault aimed at ordinary people. 

Nova had overheard a few students calling the cousins "Vampire" just to irritate them and provoke a reaction. However, it didn’t seem to bother the cousins as much as it bothered her.

“It’s none of your business. But if you dare to go near her again, that term might change! Now get lost!” Victor almost spat, shoving the boy toward Oliver. Leo didn’t appear finished yet, but Oliver told him“Come on, Leo, she isn’t worth the trouble!” He then whispered something in Leo’s ear, and the two of them ran away together.

Vargas shouted behind them playfully, "Keep running at that speed, and you might actually reach the moon by midnight!" 

This made a few students who were watching giggle. 

Great, she had forgotten they had an audience again. 

Vera narrowed her eyes at them and said, "Don't you have better things to do? Mind your own business! "

The students left reluctantly, still staring at them while whispering and giggling among themselves.

A gentle hand hesitantly rested on her shoulder, triggering her instincts once more. Her heart raced, still fueled by the adrenaline surging through her veins from earlier. Just as she prepared to throw a punch, she realized it was Victor.

His previous expression had shifted to his usual warm smile, now mingled with a hint of surprise at her reaction. 

"Whoa, chill, Nova, it's just me!" he said. 

Nova immediately relaxed and looked apologetic. 

"Sorry! I'm having a tough day, and I'm the absolute last person you'd want to sneak up on."

"Oh, I know; we are firsthand witnesses to that," Victor teased her playfully. Vargas laughed, and Vera rolled her eyes. 

Nova felt herself blush slightly, but a wave of nausea and dizziness interrupted her thoughts, causing her to stumble. Victor quickly grabbed her by the arms to steady her. 

"Nova! Are you okay? Did he hurt you? If he did, I swear—" he said, concern and anger evident in his tone.

Nova tried to reassure him as she spoke, "N-no, it's just—" but was interrupted by a loud voice echoing through the hallway. 

"Nova Bright and Victor Ashlin, report to the principal's office immediately!" 

They exchanged knowing glances before Vera pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "Please tell me those big babies didn't run to the principal's office, crying victim" 

"I think that's exactly what they did, Vera. " Vargas stated.

"No, no, no! This can't be happening!" she panicked. 

Vargas stepped forward and reassured her, "Hey, don't worry. What's the worst that can happen?" 

"You don’t understand. Leo and his family are manipulative, and they could easily frame us, just like they did with my brother last year. They can make a big deal out of it! We’ve just given them the perfect reason to do so because the cameras recorded me flipping him onto his back for no apparent reason, and then you guys threatening him!" She was clearly in a state of panic. Her vision started to blur, and the dizziness was worsening. She felt immense gratitude that Victor hadn’t let go of her arms; otherwise, she would have collapsed already.

"Not if we do something about it."

She tried to focus on Victor's voice and look him in the eye.

"What do you mean?"

-"Nova, we’ve got this. 

Vargas was actually recording the whole incident, so they can’t frame us."

-"He was?"

"Yes, that’s why we didn’t intervene earlier. We were recording the entire time. The worst that can happen is a warning or, at most, a detention, but you don’t need to worry about that." Victor attempted to reassure her before turning to the others. 

"Vera, can you take her to the nurse? Vargas and I will try to explain everything and buy some time before you two can join us," he commanded.

 Vera simply nodded, her casual annoyance evident, and replaced Victor as he let go of her slowly. 

Then shot them a last worried glance before heading toward the office, with Vargas reluctant. 

"Come on, Sparkle Toes, you heard him," Vera urged, attempting to lead the way. However, Nova stood her ground, refusing to move. 

"Can we... go to an empty classroom instead? I don't want... more people to see me... like this," she pleaded, her voice shaky and breath shallow. 

Vera narrowed her eyes, suspiciously. "Are you sure? You look like you might faint any moment." 

That was true. 

"Ye... yes. I know... what to do. I just need a little time," Nova replied. 

"Whatever you say," Vera said, adjusting their course. 

Thankfully, the nearest empty classroom was just around the corner. Once they arrived, Nova leaned against the wall and immediately sank to the floor, sitting down. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face between them.

A kind nurse had once taught her and her family a helpful technique during one of her rushed visits to the ER. Whenever her blood pressure dropped and she felt faint, she could either lie down and elevate her feet a few inches above her body or sit like this to promote better blood circulation to her brain. Additionally, taking deep breaths would help her get enough oxygen.

It usually helped a lot. She just needed to clear her thoughts and focus on her breathing.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale

After what felt like an eternity—though it had only been about fifteen minutes—her thoughts became much clearer, and she started to feel better; the nausea and dizziness were almost gone.

That's when Vera spoke again. "Hey, are you with me, Sparkle Toes? Or do I have to drag your unconscious body to the nurse's office and then get beaten up by Victor?" Nova was honestly surprised that Vera was still there, and even more surprised to see her sitting close to her, leaning against the wall behind them.

As Nova chuckled and slowly raised her head again, she replied, "No, I'm good. Sorry, it took me a while, and thank you for sticking around."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever! Do you need anything before we leave?"

That's when Nova noticed both of their backpacks on the floor. Vera must have picked up her own bag earlier, and she brought it with her because Nova had completely forgotten that she had dropped her bag while trying to back away from Leo. Maybe the Sigma girl was more sympathetic than she let on.

"Um, can you please pass me my water bottle?" 

"Sure." Vera simply nodded and handed it to her. She then got up, dusted off her jeans, and offered Nova a hand when she was done drinking. 

This time, Nova picked up her backpack herself and took Vera's hand.

As they left the classroom, Vera spoke again. "Listen, I don't know what just happened to you, and honestly, it's none of my business. Victor just texted me that they told Principal Martinez you hadn't eaten anything all day and that your blood sugar had dropped. So I don't think he'll question it either.

 But I have to warn you, boys are nosy, and they'll probably question me about it later. Do you want me to come up with something, or...?"

Nova completed the question in her mind: Or will you explain it yourself? She knew the question would be asked sooner or later, and logically, she should have stuck to lying about it. Right?

 But instead, she asked Vera, "Can I trust you guys?" She had a gut feeling the answer would be yes.

Vera rolled her eyes—again. (She really did that a lot.) "If you think we'll grab a megaphone and spread the news about what happened to you, trust me, we've got way more fun things to do. 

Plus, I thought it was already public knowledge that we don’t have many fans around here."

"Then I'll explain it myself, later Let's just deal with the problem at hand first." 

Vera agreed.

 The rest of the walk was quiet.

As they reached the office door, Nova took a deep breath and gently knocked on it. 

"Come in," she heard Mr. Martinez's muffled voice say. She entered with Vera not far behind. 

Inside, Mr. Martinez was behind his desk, clearly watching the video they had recorded on Vargas's phone. Leo's father, dressed in his usual very expensive suit, stood to Mr. Martinez's left side. And to Mr. Martinez's right, were two ladies: 

One was clearly her mother, calm as ever, watching the video patiently. But Nova knew better about her inner storm. 

The other woman must have been Victor's mother. She was tall, middle-aged, with dark brown eyes and light brown hair pulled into a tight, high bun. Dressed in a gray turtle neck shirt, black pants, and a long black coat, and wearing black high heels, with crossed arms, she looked very serious.

She didn't seem nearly as patient as her mother.

 Vargas and Victor stood awkwardly near the desk, clearly wishing to be anywhere else but there. Leo was nowhere to be seen, probably sent to the nurse's office for a check-up.

When they entered, everyone turned to them. Before the principal could talk, Leo's father, Mr. Withlock, said, "Great, now that the golden girl is here too, we can discuss a suitable punishment for these four troublemakers."

Her mother looked genuinely angry, but it was nothing compared to the fury on Ms. Ashlin's face. She stepped forward and spoke in a hushed but intense tone. "Oh, is that so? I'll give you a better topic to discuss: your stupidity and blindness, which could compete with your sons'!" She almost shouted in the end.

Her mother attempted to calm her down. "Ms. Ashlin—"

"No, I’m not finished yet. Our time has been wasted because this man's son couldn't keep his hands off some random girl and HE clearly lacks the intelligence to understand that some of us are actual adults with more important problems than indulging our children, unless he would not have requested our presence to discuss" some important matters about our children's misbehavior! "

"How dare you?!" Mr. Withlock snapped back, then turned to the principal. "If these kids don't get punished properly for hurting my son, who will likely spend a week in the hospital, and for threatening him, and for their irresponsible guardians, I will sue this school and have it shut down!"

Now, her mother turned to him with a dangerously calm voice. "That situation only occurred because your son was invading my daughter's privacy and threatening her in the first place. And Ms.Ashlin's nephew only tried to stand up for her. 

After last year's fiasco, my husband and I chose to remain silent, but given today’s events, I’m surprised you’re the one who’s speaking about suing, Mr. Withlock."

"I have to agree with Mrs. Bright, Mr. Withlock. Your son will receive two weeks of detention, and if this happens again, we will expel him."

Mr. Withlock looked as though he'd been slapped in the face. He turned red and opened his mouth and shut it twice, unable to respond, then left the office, cursing under his breath and making random empty threats. A declaration that he had been defeated. And he wasn't used to it.

 Like father, like son.

The principal turned to the ladies. "Mrs. Bright, Ms. Ashlin, I apologize for the misunderstanding and for wasting your time. It won't happen again.

 As for four of you," he said, turning his attention to them, "you should consider yourselves lucky that you'll be leaving my office with only a warning this time."

Nova sighed in relief and caught Victor and Vargas mimicking her: "We told you so." with raised eyebrows.

 That made her roll her eyes, just as she was sure Vera did as well.

After her mother thanked the principal, they walked out of the office.

 Ms. Ashlin was quite cold to all of them, and without looking at Victor, she stated"We will have some serious discussions about prioritizing your actions, Victor. Understood?" Voice, cold as ice.

Victor lowered his head, feeling half ashamed and half annoyed. "Yes, Auntie."

Wait, auntie?! Nova thought she was his mom?

Just like that, Ms. Ashlin disappeared, paying no attention to anyone, as if they didn't exist in the first place.

 Vargas and Vera both felt out of place the entire time. Much more than the rest of them, Nova might say. They were only there to support her and Victor after all.

Eventually, her mom approached her and stroked her cheek gently. "I'm glad it all ended up well, honey. But if you're feeling unwell, I can take you home early."

Right. She had forgotten that her mom was the only one who had realized what "her blood sugar has dropped" had meant. And they hadn't talked since her arrival.

Nova shook her head. "I'm fine, Mom, thanks to them." She pointed at the cousins.

Her mom turned to them, smiling, saying, "Well, thank you for helping my daughter, especially you, young man." She walked up to Victor. "That takes courage."

Victor looked shy and blushed a little, pinching the back of his neck. "It really wasn't a big deal."

Her mom smiled in acknowledgment and then left after saying goodbye to Nova.

The four of them stood in the empty hallway for a moment, side by side, before Vargas stepped forward. 

"Wow, that was something! But.... Please tell me you saw his face?! He got cooked!" 

Vera smirked. "Yeah, it was about time he learned that not everything can be earned with money. 

By the way, you definitely earned my respect by flipping that jerk, Sparkle Toes!"

Nova smiled shyly. Victor elbowed her slightly to catch her attention, then leaned closer and whispered, "If you don't speak Vera's language, it's her way of saying she likes you and that you're welcome to be our friend—Oww!" 

Vera punched his arm. "And that's my way of saying it's about time you shut up!"

"Guys, I'm Hungry, let's get to the cafeteria, it's almost lunch time!"

"You're always hungry, Vargas, that's not new."

Vera spoke up as they all started walking toward the cafeteria.

 While Vera and Vargas were joking back and forth, trash-talking to each other, Nova could tell this was just their normal behavior.

 Then she noticed that Victor was looking at her. Unlike previous experiences with other boys, she didn’t feel uncomfortable about it; in fact, she felt secure around him. Them.

There was something sincere and warm about this group, especially after what had happened, particularly with Victor, the boy who had unexpectedly stepped in to protect her. They didn’t even know her that well, but that hadn't stopped them.

Victor smiled at her and said, “What a day, huh?”

Nova returned his smile exhaustedly. “You’re telling me?” His smile dimmed a little as he asked, “Are you sure you're alright? 

What happened earlier? I mean… if you’re comfortable talking about it.”

Nova realized that now Vargas and Vera were also listening to their conversation too. 

“Nah, it’s all good. After everything you did for me today, an explanation is the least I owe you.”

 She took a deep breath and continued, “I have a medical condition called adrenal fatigue.

It's... Let’s put it this way: whenever I get more anxious than I should and don’t calm myself down, I can experience symptoms like dizziness and nausea. If I don’t respond to those symptoms in time, I might actually faint.”

They all looked taken aback. Vargas was the first to speak. “Is it fatal?” He immediately received an elbow to the ribs from Vera for being so blunt.

“The condition itself isn’t life-threatening,” Nova explained. “Fainting is just my body’s way of trying to readjust everything, like my blood pressure, heartbeat, and breathing. What can be risky is when or where I have an episode. For example, there’s always a danger of head injuries when I collapse.”

"That's terrible, Nova! I'm so sorry to hear that," Victor said, his voice filled with concern.

"It actually isn't that bad. I've learned to cope with it, more or less. I hardly have episodes like today. But you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone about any of this. I...don't like appearing weak, especially because people look up to my family and expect me to be strong and influential." She whispered the last part.

 Normally, she wouldn't speak like this to anyone but her 

family.

 However, they had already seen her in her most vulnerable state and had helped her nonetheless. Their expressions right now were anything but judgmental.

Vargas made the gesture of zipping his lips and tossing the imaginary zipper away. Clearly trying to lighten the mood.

 "Our lips are sealed!" 

Victor reassured her, "Seriously, Nova, this will stay between the four of us. The fact that you are trusting us with this proves how strong and brave you are.

 Don't underestimate yourself.

 If you ever need help with anything—whether it’s a medical condition or anything else—you can always count on us!"

"I second that. Unless you're sensitive to gossip, your reputation might take a hit just by being seen with us.

 Seriously, what's wrong with the people of Seabrook? Can't they go a day without spreading rumors? It's so annoying " Vera said with disgust.

Nova chuckled bitterly. "Oh, trust me, I know. You should have been here last year. My brother Ray and I would step into the hallway, and before we could make a single move, everyone would immediately start talking about us. I guess it comes with the name..."

At the mention of Ray, Varga's ears perked up. "Ray?! As in Raymond Bright?! The previous captain of the basketball team who led them to win like ten games?! He's your brother?!"

....

They spent the rest of the day and the school year hanging out together, unaware of what fate had planned for them... 

Chapter Text

Being friends with the Ashlins turned out to be even better than she had expected. They were the loyal and reliable friends she had always wished for.

Once you got to know Vera—and she got to know you—she revealed herself to be really cool. Beneath her cold "I'm just tolerating the whole universe" exterior, she was actually the mother hen of the group, always looking out for the boys (and now for her) to make sure they stayed out of trouble. She consistently covered for them when they messed up.

Vera was also quite the rule-follower and cared about her grades because, like Nova, she had academic ambitions. However, unlike Nova, who wanted to become a lawyer, Vera aspired to be a detective or crime investigator, which suited her observant personality perfectly.

When Vera told Nova that she had earned her respect, she genuinely meant it. Once Nova began hanging out with them, Vera was welcoming. They even started a friendly competition to see who could achieve a better score on each exam and quiz. It wasn't a rivalry but rather a way for them to motivate each other to improve. Plus, whoever ended up with the better score was expected to help the other with that subject during their study sessions.

These study sessions included the boys as well, but about ninety percent of the time, they were either sleeping on the table, or lost in their own worlds while Nova and Vera discussed various solutions to complicated math problems or discussed a book they were supposed to read for the literature class.

 Nova had never had a girl best friend like Vera, and she deeply valued their friendship. While she had certainly grown close to Victor and Vargas as much, the bond between the girls was something special. 

However, they often found themselves in arguments about "Nova's clothing choices," which was probably something they wouldn't resolve anytime soon.

They just had different styles, sorta representing their different characters, okay?

Vargas was absolutely the funniest and most optimistic person she had ever met. Before meeting him, she wasn't even sure how she managed to laugh. No matter where they were or what circumstances they faced, he always had the best jokes and funniest gestures to lighten everyone's mood. 

His grades weren't great, and he often struggled to pass his exams, but the three of them supported him as much as they could. Vargas also worked as a part-time deliveryman after school to save money for renting a house after graduation. Since he wasn't planning to attend college, living in a dorm was not an option, and he clearly didn't want to live with his family. 

Despite these academic challenges, he was an exceptional athlete and a talented basketball player. By the end of the first semester, he had become the new captain of the basketball team, possibly thanks to some advice he received from Ray.

Ray didn't get many chances to meet them in person, but despite his older brother's instincts, the boys clicked just as Nova and Vera did, in their own way. The boys were hitting the gym, and by coincidence, they went to the same gym, same time every week, which is how they got to know each other better.

Although they didn’t hang out outside of school that much, they created a group chat that, despite her better judgment, included Ray as one of the members. He insisted that her friends were his friends too, and it definitely wasn’t just because he wanted to keep an eye on them.

As for the possibility of the four of them having another secret group chat that Ray didn’t know about, that was no one’s business.

And Victor? He was born to be an artist. His talent extended beyond sketches and doodles; he excelled in every art form, from painting and visual arts to graphic design. No matter the assignment in art class, his work consistently left everyone in awe, including their art teacher.

His relationship with her was exceptional, and she struggled to find the right words to describe it. True to his promise, he was always there for her whenever she needed support. He had quietly become her emotional anchor throughout high school. She didn't even need to tell him if something was wrong; he could read her emotions just by looking into her eyes.

Victor knew how to comfort her, whether it was by squeezing her hand under the table during stressful moments, wrapping his arm around her shoulder at lunchtime, or giving her a short but tight "good luck" hug before exams, especially during finals.

Their mutual support was a two-way street. There were days when Nova wasn't the one feeling down, and on those days, she became Victor's shoulder to lean on.

Despite knowing the cousins for two years, there were still things about their lives that didn’t add up, and it deeply concerned her. 

Some Monday mornings, all three of them appeared sleep-deprived at school, as if they hadn’t rested all weekend. At times, they would show up in baggy clothes – hoodies and cargo jeans – which wasn’t their usual style. Victor wore his warm black hoodie so often, even on hot days. That didn’t bother her; he looked good in it. However, one day, she noticed a nasty bruise on his forearm when he rolled up his sleeve to wash his hands. The moment he spotted her looking, he quickly rolled his sleeves back down.

"Where did you get that?" she asked.

"I... um, got into a fight with a boy in our neighborhood?" His response felt more like a question than a statement, as if he wasn’t sure of himself either.

"Uh, ha," she replied, not convinced. Instead, with concern, she asked, "Does it hurt? Can I see it?"

"No, no, it's fine, really, Nova."

There were also times during their senior year when Victor and Vargas appeared with sore knuckles. 

"How did you get those?! Another fight in the neighborhood?!" she exclaimed.

"No, no, we were just trying boxing the other day in the gym," he said.

That was strange. Ray also did boxing sometimes, but she couldn’t recall ever noticing sore knuckles on Ray’s hands.

Additionally, she had definitely seen Vera wearing heavier makeup than usual to cover the bags under her eyes.

No matter how many times she tried to talk to them, the conclusion was the same:They wouldn't like to talk about their lives in their homes.

She already knew that, for Victor, things were more complicated at home. He had told her that the lady they had met earlier was his aunt and legal guardian because he lost his parents in a fire when he was five. He had also mentioned that his relationship with his aunt, Veronica, wasn’t very good.

“Is everything okay at home?” she once asked during their senior year while they were walking in the schoolyard.

He looked especially annoyed and distracted that day. “Other than being called worthless and a disgrace to my parents’ legacy by my aunt for the thousandth time? I’m doing great!” he replied sarcastically.

“Victor, don’t say tha—”

“Forget it, sunshine. It's not just my aunt. Many other family members have lost faith in me, too. I will never meet their expectations. I’ve gotten used to it.” His automatic dismissive tone made her really mad, so she stepped in front of him to make him look her in the eye.

“No! I’m not going to just forget it, Vic. If you don’t meet your family’s standards, I don’t care. You’re an amazing and talented person, and if your aunt can’t see that, she’s obviously blind—and it’s her loss.”

He looked lost for a moment.

Like she had just told him the sky wasn't blue. She grabbed both his hands, intertwined them with hers, and kept looking straight into his brown eyes to emphasize her next words. “You have a good heart and a pure soul. I know that because I know you. As my father says, as long as you keep your heart and soul pure, and set your ambitions high, you can achieve great things, Victor. I know you can. Your actions don’t have to align with what your aunt wants; you are your own person, with your own free will!”

He smiled sadly, but she could see the hope in his teary eyes. Then he suddenly hugged her and whispered, “No one has ever had that kind of faith in me, Nova. When you say it like that, I want to believe I can do anything and be that kind of person.”

She hugged him back. “You already are that kind of person, Vic; you just can't see it yet. But I’m going to repeat it like a mantra until you start to believe it with all your heart.”

“I know you would.” She heard him chuckle, and they stayed like that for a while. It was unlike their usual quick hugs. This one was tighter than ever, longer, and soothing. For once, Nova hadn’t been the one needing comfort; she had actually offered it.

Nova could tell that Vera had a better life at home. Although her parents were strict and had high expectations, her older sister Aida, who was a doctor, provided her with strong support for her goals. Vera wasn't someone who openly shared her feelings, so Nova didn’t know much about her inner struggles. In contrast, Vargas's parents appeared indifferent to his life choices, and he was simply following his own path. While that might not have been fulfilling for him, at least he had the freedom that Victor lacked.

Honestly, Nova wanted to do more for her friends than just offer them her friendship, but she felt constrained. She had considered various ways to help, but she didn’t want to risk losing them either. It wasn't like she could change the circumstances with their difficult parents. 

Despite that, she still felt guilty about not doing enough. So, she decided to seek advice from her father, the most reasonable and straightforward person in her family. He hadn’t met her friends in person, but he knew about them through her, Ray's stories, and her mother’s descriptions.

She didn’t provide him with many detailed facts about their lives (mainly because she didn’t know that much), but she shared enough for him to grasp the situation.

“Dad, I can't shake the feeling that I need to do something!” 

“Nova, sometimes we don’t help people by taking action; we help them by not doing anything at all.”

Confused, she asked, “What do you mean?”

Her mom was making lunch, Ray was at the gym, and she was in the backyard with her dad, going through her light weekly training. 

“Some people need someone to talk to, some need an ear to listen to them, and others require action to be taken on their behalf. But sometimes, what people need most is someone who doesn’t do anything—someone who has no demands or expectations, but simply reminds them that they are loved for who they are. From what your mother has said, your friends are more than capable of taking care of themselves and one another. Soon, they will be old enough to stand on their own, without being overshadowed by their families. But maybe right now, they just need you to remind them that you care about them for who they truly are. Let them know you won’t judge them if they make a mistake, that you’ll be there for them during tough times, that someone will miss them when they’re away, and that someone cares for them unconditionally, without boundaries.”

His dad's words sank deep into her heart and mind, a lesson she wouldn't forget anytime soon, if possible, never ever.

During high school, they created many wonderful memories. They attended all the basketball games, cheering at the top of their lungs for Vargas. They shared funny nicknames, participated in long but enjoyable study sessions, and had late-night video calls. Everything was memorable.

 On graduation day, both her parents and Ray were by her side—something that was becoming rare lately. His father was always busy, Ray was on his way to becoming an officer, and now that she was graduating, her mom was going to be a city councillor. However, she knew that neither of them would miss any special occasions; they never did unless there was an emergency.

She wished she could say the same about the Ashlin cousins. The only family members who attended for them were Vera's older sister, and her fiancé. Nova felt heartbroken but chose not to show it. They all seemed to have accepted that their families were absent on one of the most important days of their lives.

Instead, they focused on enjoying their time together. They accompanied each other all the time, made lots of jokes, took plenty of photos with both beautiful and silly gestures, and when it came time to throw their caps in the air, they were definitely among the loudest students. They hugged each other one by one, followed by a group hug, with her and Victor playfully shoving Ray into the circle as well. It was an emotional moment to say goodbye—for now, at least. But they survived it with teary eyes.

They promised each other to chat every day and meet up during the summer. They hoped they would all make it to college and the majors they wanted to study. Although Vargas planned to work instead of studying, he promised to hang out with them. Let's be honest—Vargas was the heart of their group, and there was no way he would miss a chance for fun.

She never thought things would take a different turn after graduation.

It had been a month and a half since graduation, and four weeks had passed without any news of Victor. The uncertainty was eating her alive, especially since she and Vera had just received their acceptance emails from college a week ago. Nova had finally made it into law school, while Vera was accepted into the Crime Investigation major.

They hadn’t had a chance to celebrate their achievements together; Nova was celebrating with her family, and Vera was busy moving into the apartment she had rented with Vargas. Yet there was still no sign of Victor. He hadn’t responded to any of her messages or returned her calls. Vera and Vargas were just as in the dark as she was. All they knew was that Victor had wanted to be alone for a while—but that had been a month ago. It wasn’t like Victor to isolate himself from his cousins and best friends during his darkest moments. Something terrible must have happened.

Nova was in her room with Ray, sitting on her bed and trying to calm her. The keyword: *trying*. 

“Maybe he didn’t get accepted and he’s too ashamed to tell you,” Ray suggested.

She chuckled sarcastically and eyed him while pacing. “Victor? Not get into art school? Haven’t you seen his work? There’s no way he didn’t get accepted. You still hit the gym with Vargas twice a week; hasn’t he told you anything at all?”

Ray stood up and grabbed her shoulders. “Nova, you’re closer to them than I am. Don’t you think if he knew something, he would have come to you first? And stop fidgeting with your necklace if you don’t want to break Mr. Dracula’s last memento for you.” Ray tried to tease her.

She hadn’t even noticed she was doing it, and while Ray clearly wanted to lighten her mood, it only made her feel worse. She stepped back. “You’re not helping, Ray!”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to distract you.”

It was a gift Victor had given her on her last birthday. He had made it himself—a silver chain necklace, similar to one he usually wore but subtler. It had six tiny charms, V and A initials hanging from the bottom half. Their—or his—initials, she couldn't tell for sure since all three of them had the same initials, and she hadn’t asked him. In the middle, there was a sparkly transparent 3D polymer cube charm with a golden "N," representing her. It was extremely special to her because she knew he had put so much effort into it just for her.

Before they could continue their conversation, there was a knock on her door.

“Nova, Ray, you’ve got visitors,” they heard their mothers’ voices.

She exchanged a look with Ray.

“Were you expecting someone?” she whispered.

Ray shook his head while walking to the door. “No, you?”

She also shook her head, joining her brother.

Behind the door stood Vera and Vargas beside their mother. Ray greeted them first. 

"What's up, dude?" he asked, and he and Vargas exchanged the complicated handshake that the three of them, including Victor, had mastered. Vera simply rolled her eyes.

"How's it going, officer boy?" she smirked, clearly teasing. Ray narrowed his eyes at the nickname. 

"Guys!" Nova exclaimed, pulling both of them in for a hug. "I missed you!" 

"We missed you too!" Vargas hugged her back tightly, and Vera patted her on the back reluctantly. "Yeah, now don’t get too emotional, Sparkle Toes!"

When she pulled back, Vera continued, "We need to talk." It was then that Nova noticed Vera’s slightly puffy eyes, and heard urgency in her voice.

Her smile faded. 

"Yeah, sure, come inside," she said, gesturing for them to enter her room with a hint of concern.

Her mom must have felt the tension in the air. "Ray, why don't you join me downstairs? I could really use an extra hand."

"Sure, Mom." He followed their mother after giving her a final worried glance. She closed the door behind him and turned to face her cousins.

"Okay, what is it?" Nova asked.

_

"You knew this the whole time and chose not to tell me?! How did this happen?!" Nova demanded, pacing around her room in a more desperate state. Vargas had taken Ray's place on her bed while Vera stood awkwardly, trying to talk to her.

"Nova, we didn't tell you anything because we hadn’t heard much from him until last night. You know things had been... tense between Victor and Veronica lately, but a week after graduation, they got into a massive fight, and apparently, that was the last straw. He ran away from home and didn’t look back. Even then, he didn’t tell us anything. I overheard Veronica talking to my parents. 

Since that day, no matter how many times we tried to contact him, he called us once a week from random numbers, told us he was alive and safe, and hung up before we could say anything in return. We didn’t want to worry you more because we had no idea what was going on with him. You know how stubborn he can be."

"So what has changed?" Nova asked.

Vargas sighed and replied, "Last night, he finally video-called us and explained everything. He’s with one of our distant cousins in Silveria now, our hometown. He’s been accepted into college but is being transferred there because our cousin runs a successful business and offered him a well-paying job related to his digital art skills. He’s going to stay there for a while. He also asked us to apologize to you on his behalf for not being in touch. "

"Oh, because he can't do it himself!" Nova exclaimed, feeling a mixture of sadness and anger.

 "Why is he not talking to me himself?! He knows I would never judge him! Did I do anything wrong that I'm not aware of? Or does our friendship mean nothing to him? "

"Oh trust me, Nova, if you’re mad now, my blood is boiling! You two have been close for two years, and we've known him for a lifetime, yet he still kept this from us. I'm so gonna kill him once he gets back to Seabrook. " Vera said, her voice full of emotion. Nova had never seen Vera this angry and desperate. "But trust me when I say, he’s been through a lot the last few months. Now that his life isn’t manipulated by his aunt, all he wants is space and time to experience true freedom and independence for the first time. Or that's what he claims.He promised he’ll be back whenever he's ready. And as much as I hate this new circumstance, I'm afraid, giving him that chance is the best we can offer him."

Nova couldn't hold back the tears anymore. She sank beside Vargas on her bed and covered her face, trying to muffle her sobs. "Oh, Victor. Why did you have to go through this..." she whispered to herself. Vargas hugged her from one side, and Vera sat on her other side, running her hand in circles on her back to calm her.

She missed the worried and guilty look that passed between two cousins as they recalled the last things they had discussed with Victor the night before....

“You can’t win this, Victor! Not alone. She holds far more power than anyone we know, and we are aware of many powerful people. You should let us come and fight alongside you,” Vera exclaimed.

“No, this is a decision I made myself, and I can’t let you get involved until I have enough power to ensure our safety and our future—not directly, anyway. I need you there, not here,” Victor replied firmly.

“What if she takes action before you’re back? What if she actually attempts to reach Nova, and no one can stop her—not even her family?” Vargas questioned, expressing concern.

“I don’t think she will. Everything she does is for a reason—albeit a wicked one. Capturing Nova is not her number one priority; she needs strong motivation to do that. For now, I’m her only motivation. As long as I’m not in her way, we should be fine. But that’s exactly why I need you two to stay in Seabrook. You have to stay close to Nova more than ever and promise me you’ll protect her in silence until I’m back to take charge.”

This was a lot to ask of two ordinary teens. But just like Victor himself, Vera and Vargas were no ordinary teens. They had never been. The term “normal” was foreign to them. After all, who in their families had ever been considered normal? 

They were getting involved in something that could lead to anyone’s death, including their own. But it was necessary if they didn’t want to live a lifetime in fear, imprisoned by lurking shadows. It was a risk they were willing to take. 

But whether they liked it or not, their best friend was in danger because of them. 

That was why there was no turning back—until they put an end to it. 

"We will, Victor. You'd better know what you’re doing. We’re counting on you."

Chapter Text

*Two Years Later…

**Victor's POV**

Victor found himself traveling down the same road he had taken exactly two years, four months, and nine days ago. This time, however, he was heading in the opposite direction—from Silveria to Seabrook. Other than the road itself, nothing was the same.

He wasn’t running from his past anymore; he was on his way to confront it and build a future. He was no longer a nobody; he had a role to play now. A role that not only affected his own life but also the lives of many others—a mafia boss.

He chuckled bitterly to himself; the title felt heavy on his tongue. But his gang, which mostly consisted of his trustworthy cousins who shared his ambitions, believed in his ability to fulfill this role. So did Vera and Vargas.

Now, don’t get him wrong. As ominous as the title and the whole mafia business sounded, they considered themselves the good guys—in a twisted way. All they wanted was to free themselves from the shackles that their blood and name had placed upon them, to escape the shadows of Shadyside, and from the grasp of his aunt.

Being born into the Ashlin household was an automatic sentence to misery, a lifetime bound to crime—whether one wanted it or not. 

No. That name didn’t sound right. Not the Ashlin household. It should be the Fangs' household. That was their original name—one that had ended many lives, which had been the doom of countless souls. It was a name that law enforcement was desperate to bring down but struggled to do so because they operated just like the Shadows; visible yet unreachable. You could sense them, but you could never grasp them. They were there, yet somehow, they simply were not.

He and the rest of his family had learned to throw a punch before they could even talk, how to pickpocket before they could speak, and how to take souls before they could run. 

If you are a "Fangs" you can have a normal life like everyone else. But that was just the cover of the book. Once you are reported for duty, no matter your age or your role in the community, you must comply and serve the leaders' wicked goals. And if you don't? Well, that's a one-way ticket to hell. 

To his absolute misfortune, his aunt Veronica was that leader—the Eldress of Shadyside. 

Victor learned at a young age that, even being a close family member to the Eldress, he was nothing but a slave. Everyone was inferior to her, even her inner circle. You could only be considered superior if you managed to overthrow the leader. Despite all she had done, no one had ever dared to challenge her because her power thrived on their fear. No one except him.

Victor was determined to use every lesson he had learned from her—and from life itself—after enduring brutal punishments, sleepless nights, red knuckles, and the story behind each scar that marked his body, to bring her down. But he didn’t want to become the next Elder of Shadyside; he aimed to destroy it completely by ripping its heart out. He wanted to ensure that the next generation of Fangs wouldn’t have to endure what his generation had suffered.

He had always been reckless and disobedient, which is why he received more punishments than any of his cousins while growing up—whether physical or verbal. 

His hatred for Shadyside grew stronger after discovering the tragic fate of his parents when he was in high school. He had been contemplating his plans ever since. The real catalyst for his courage to take action was a stunning girl with golden locks, blue eyes as deep as the sea in Seabrook, and a heart as pure as crystal. 

Over the past two years, he has dedicated most of his days to studying as an art student while also working hard to attain financial stability. His cousin Luke, who had sheltered him like a refuge after he ran away, had helped him find high-paying art markets and supported him financially. However, Victor wanted to make most of the required investments himself. Fortunately, his natural talent for art allowed him to sell his works for good prices.

His nights were spent either working on his projects—both for college and for sale—or strategizing his plans. He had little time to rest, but dreaming about Nova, keeping her safe, and reuniting with her had been his main motivation all along. She was his light in the dark—the person who believed he could achieve great things and the inspiration behind all his actions over the past two years.

He only realized he had been lost in thought again when he saw a familiar sign: "Welcome to Seabrook." Finally, home sweet home. Technically, Silveria was his birthplace and where he had been raised, but he preferred to call Seabrook home because it gave him hope for a better life. This was also where his beloved siblings, Vera and Vargas, lived, along with Nova.

He had been counting the days—and even the seconds—until he could see each of them again. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the night, so he wouldn’t see Nova in person until tomorrow morning on their college campus. He wished he could have returned in the summer before the semester started; he didn’t want to be transferred back to college in the middle of the term. However, he needed to ensure that his squad was properly settled into their new lives and roles without drawing attention. He also had to finalize arrangements for their new headquarters—a mansion near the Rayburn coast—which was away from the main headquarters of the Fangs but close enough to the city center to avoid raising suspicions with law enforcement. He was immensely grateful to Vera and Vargas for making these arrangements professionally in his absence.

After another twenty minutes, he drove his black Volkswagen sedan to the address he wanted: Vera and Vargas's rental apartment. This would be his new home. (He had no plans to live in the mansion anytime soon. After all, he was supposed to be a third-year art student just starting his career, and he had been away from his favorite cousins long enough.)

He didn't bother calling Vargas to unlock the doors to the parking lot and simply parked his car in front of the main entrance to the apartment. He had kept his exact arrival date a secret from almost everyone, especially his aunt, since news spread quickly in Shadyside. This was also why he chose a long road trip over flying, which would have easily revealed his plans.

Vera and Vargas knew he was coming, but he had told them he would arrive the next day. He wasn't sure if they knew he was lying, as those two knew him better than he knew himself. Still, he wanted to surprise them a bit—unaware that he would actually be the one surprised.

He only brought a small amount of luggage containing his personal belongings, clothes, and necessary art tools. Everything else he needed was already provided by his two siblings. What would he do without them? That was exactly why they were his siblings, and he had no intention of confusing them with the rest of his many cousins.

The spare keys were cleverly concealed inside a fake rock nestled beneath a bush, just as they had previously arranged. After a long day of traveling, he stepped into the apartment, suitcase in tow. He made his way to the elevator, the unfamiliar hum of its mechanics resonating softly around him. Once he reached the second floor, he walked down the dimly lit hallway, his heart quickening with anticipation as he approached their door; the weight of his luggage was a mere afterthought.

Upon quietly opening the door, he paused. The inside was quiet and dark. It felt odd. Neither of them was accustomed to sleeping early; they had always been night owls, regardless of how early they needed to wake up the next day.

Maybe they were in their separate rooms?

But again, they were all well-trained; they should have heard the door, no matter how quietly he moved, and rushed out to greet him.

Just as he closed the door behind him and was about to announce his arrival, someone slammed him into the wall. A black-hooded figure pinned him with one arm pressed against his throat, using a chokehold that wasn’t meant to suffocate him but rather to immobilize him. The other hand held a knife, its tip pressed against his ribcage, just above his heart.

“Give me a reason not to rip your heart out right away, Fangs,” they whispered the last part with poison, their voice icy.

The threat didn’t frighten him. In fact, he began to smirk playfully as their grip on his throat tightened.

“It’s... good to... see you too, Vera,” he managed to greet while trying to catch his breath.

At that moment, a light bulb flickered on above them, revealing Vargas leaning against the wall across from them, maintaining a bit of distance. He mirrored Victor’s playful smile.

“Hah! I told you he wouldn’t fall for that,” Vargas said.

Vera’s pitch-black eyes were locked onto his, and he could tell she was suppressing a smirk as well. Her grip relaxed.

“You’ve gotten faster,” Victor said proudly, raising an eyebrow as she assessed him with her trained gaze.

“And you’ve gotten taller,” she replied, stepping back only to punch him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. “And softer.”

“Ow! What was that for?!” he exclaimed in genuine pain, rubbing his side.

“Once, I promised Nova that I would kill you the moment you returned to Seabrook. You should be grateful I’m content to just leave you with a bruise,” she said matter-of-factly, as if they were discussing the weather, while sheathed her knife on her person.

"Noted. I'm very grateful for the warm welcome," he said sarcastically, still rubbing his side.

There was a good reason why the entire crew feared Vera. Even though she was a girl, she possessed the strength and skills to take down half the crew with her bare hands, and that terrified them. He would be lying if he said he and Vargas weren’t occasionally spooked by her, too.

She finally looked at him, her older brother, with the tiniest hint of a smile. "You're welcome. Now, I'm going to bed, and you two better do the same. I don't want my beauty sleep interrupted by you. There's enough food for a small army thanks to Vargas, if you haven't already had dinner. Good night."

"Good night, Vera," he and Vargas said in unison as she left. They exchanged looks and then broke into silent laughter, performing their handshake and side-hugging each other as they headed toward the kitchen.

"It's good to have you back, bro." Vargas patted him on the back. Victor smiled.

"It's good to be back. Now tell me everything I've missed."

He was finally home.

His classes had been nearly trouble-free the other day, the only issue being that he hadn’t seen Nova at all. This wasn’t surprising since they had completely different classes in different buildings. However, it still affected his thoughts and concentration during class.

That cycle broke when it was time to head home. He was waiting for Vera outside the campus since he had finished early when he spotted her.

They were walking side by side, their backpacks slung over one shoulder and thick books in their hands. Vera was talking, and Nova was focused on her. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

Sure, he had seen her in pictures from group gatherings that Vera and Vargas had sent him, but seeing her in person was a completely different experience. She appeared more or less the same, with slightly more mature facial features. Her smile was as bright as ever.

She wore blue jeans, a white turtleneck sweater, a beige raincoat, and white-and-cream sneakers. Her neat braid reached down to her belly, her hair longer than he had ever seen it.

As they got closer, they finally noticed him leaning against his car. Nova noticed him first and froze in place. Vera stopped, following her gaze and looking at him, alert. Victor also froze for a moment, but then, without thinking much about it, he walked over to her.

"Hey."

"Hello." Her cold voice caught him off guard. "Sorry, I... I need to go." She turned away, trying to pass him. He instinctively grabbed her wrist, causing her to jerk it away as if she had been electroshocked. He froze again.

"Nova, just li—"

"That's enough." Vera stepped in, positioning herself between them, effectively shielding Nova from him.

"Victor, we have a group meeting to attend. Go home; we'll talk when I get back."

"But—" He attempted to protest.

"Home," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. He sighed in defeat, stealing one last glance at Nova. She clearly didn’t want to see him, which was understandable, but it still shattered his heart to see her like that.

When he returned home, he spent most of the afternoon and evening pacing anxiously, wondering how he would talk to Nova after everything that had happened. Vargas came home at some point and tried to distract him, but it didn't help.

Finally, Vera returned. Before he could speak, she said, "You can't talk to her for now." She turned to him as she put her things away in her room, and he followed her.

"Why is that?" he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.

Vera sighed and turned to face him as they walked to the living room.

"Remember the mock trial project I told you about a few weeks ago?"

"Yes?"

"It's two weeks away. It's a group project that involves more students than just me and Nova. It will determine the majority of our score for the semester, and our professor is really strict. Most of us have defined or undefined roles. However, Nova is our key to victory, as she is the lawyer who will argue the case that day. No matter how capable she is and how hard she's trying, she is really stressed because most of the weight is on her shoulders.The last thing she needs in the next two weeks is for you to suddenly reappear in her life and cause drama."

"But I've waited long enough, V. You know that better than anyone. I can't wait any longer. I need to see her, talk to her."

"You can, and you will if her feelings are important to you. You've waited to see her again for over two years—eight hundred and thirty-one days, to be exact. What's another fourteen days?" Vera leaned against the counter.

"He’s right, dude," Vargas agreed,getting up from the couch.

"Vargas! You're supposed to be on my side in this!" Victor exclaimed.

"Sorry, bro, but you were the one who asked us to protect her from anything. How many days ago did you say, Vera?"

"Eight hundred thirty-one days."

"Yeah, that many days ago. And right now, we need to protect her from you."

Victor couldn't believe his ears. His own family was against him. While he was satisfied with how deeply they cared for Nova, he felt frustrated that they had become another barrier keeping him from reaching her.

"Unbelievable! With supportive friends like you, who needs an enemy?!" he said, running his hands through his hair in exasperation.

Vera chuckled sarcastically. "I can totally relay that message to Veronica and save myself from the painful fate she has planned for our betrayal."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't," he replied, shaking his head at the possibility.

She sighed. "Look, I know this is hard for you, but I also know how much you care about her well-being. If it helps, I'll tell her you genuinely want to talk about everything and apologize but I’m going to hold off until after the trial. Better?"

He sighed heavily and sank into the sofa. "I guess you’re right. Yes, please do that."

Vera nodded in agreement, and they all returned to their daily routine. Vera working on her laptop, Vargas preparing to leave and do some more food deliveries, and him working on an art project.

He could swear those two weeks passed even more slowly and painfully than the last two years. 

Being miles away from Nova was one thing; being close to her and yet so far was another. It was torture to try not to get near her on campus, knowing that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to talk to her. The way she ghosted him whenever their paths accidentally crossed, acting as if he were a stranger, felt like a stab to his heart every time. And the new girls-well technically he was the new guy on the campus but that's beside the point- that were trying to flirt with him didn't help at all. He couldn't even recall any of their names or faces.If only they knew he had eyes for one specific girl...

He actually considered screaming that out loud one day, but he didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to himself.Not to mention Nova Bright had a reputation. He would never ruin that for her.

But surprisingly, he survived another thirteen days.

Eventually, it was the night before the trial. Just one more day. Almost there, he kept telling himself throughout the day.

Nova was at their place, practicing with Vera and going through everything one last time. He and Vargas had clear orders from Vera to stay out of sight until 7:30, after Nova had left. Vargas was busy fulfilling some orders, so he wouldn’t be back anyway. Victor had spent an extra hour driving around, thinking about what he would say to Nova to regain her trust without revealing too much—for the thousandth time.

He finally made it home at 8:30, but when he opened the door, he froze midway, hearing her voice echoing from the living room. Her back was to him, and whatever they had been practicing had stopped. Both turned to face him.

Nova quickly averted her gaze, but Vera stood up and walked toward him, furious. “What are you doing here, Victor? I said we weren’t to be disturbed until 7:30!”

Victor was confused. “You do realize it was literally an hour ago, right?”

Her angry expression turned to confusion. “It was?”

“It was!” Nova’s horrified voice made them both look at her as she checked her phone with wide eyes. “We must have lost track of time, and I was supposed to be home by now!” She panicked.

Vera approached her sympathetically. “Okay, no worries. While you’re packing your stuff, I’ll get you an Uber,” she said, trying to find her phone.

“I’ll drive you,” Victor said, his voice causing them to freeze again.

Nova, as usual, immediately rejected the idea. “I wouldn’t want to bother you,” she said, still avoiding his gaze.

“I don’t have anything better to do anyway,” he shrugged, putting his hands into his jeans pockets.

Vera shot him a disapproving look. “Victor, don’t—”

“It’s okay, Vera. I’m already too late to be home, and it will take time to get an Uber.” Nova reassured her as she stood up, slinging her backpack over one shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Vera asked again.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” Nova confirmed.

“Okay then, if you’re sure. Text me when you get home,” Vera instructed, giving Victor a warning look that said, “If you upset her, you won’t be seeing daylight.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow?” Nova hugged Vera, who softened for a moment and returned the hug slightly. “Take care, Goldilocks,” she said.

Nova really had a way of making them go easier on her.

Victor opened the door for Nova to pass, and they made their way to his car. She continued to avoid his gaze.

The car was silent, a vault holding two years of unspoken words. Nova stared out the passenger window, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold against the glass. Victor’s hands were tight on the wheel—the same hands that used to sketch her while she studied, now navigating the tense space between them.

He pulled up to her apartment building but left the engine running. The silence was a suffocating presence.

Nova’s hand went to the door handle. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth that once colored his name.

“Nova, wait.”

She paused but didn’t look at him.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, the question torn from somewhere raw and deep. “The ignoring me. The coldness. After everything…”

That finally made her turn. Her eyes, usually so bright, were hard. “After everything, Victor? You mean after you got your dream job, your fresh start, and didn’t bother to tell me for a month? After you decided you needed space from the life you had here—from everyone, from me—for over two years?”

Victor’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t deny that, but he couldn’t let her believe the worst of him—not anymore.

“It wasn’t just about space,” he said, his voice low and strained. He chose his next words with extreme care, walking the tightrope between truth and their fabricated cover. “And it wasn’t about a job. Not really.”

“Then what was it about?” The challenge was still there, but now it was edged with confusion.

He looked away, out into the night, as if searching for the right words in the darkness. “My family… it’s not like other families, Nova. It’s complicated. Dangerous.” He glanced at her, his eyes shadowed with a pain she’d never fully understood. “The fight with my aunt… it was the last straw. It wasn’t about art or a job. It was about survival.”

He noticed her anger falter, replaced by a flicker of the concern she’d always had for him.

“I had to get out. I had to disappear. If I stayed… if I kept…” He stopped himself, unable to say, “if I kept seeing you.” “The consequences wouldn’t have just been for me. They would have… spilled over onto everyone close to me.”

He let the implication hang in the air between them. He could see the moment her sharp legal mind began to connect the dots—the mysterious bruises, the sore knuckles, the heavy hoodies, the times he’d clammed up about his home life. He wasn’t just a moody artist from a troubled background; he was a refugee from something darker.

“You were protecting yourself,” she said slowly, the anger draining from her voice.

“I was trying to,” he replied, the words heavy with a meaning far deeper than she could know. He wasn’t just talking about himself. “I was trying to protect… my future. I had a chance at a real one. A clean one. Away from all of it.” His gaze locked with hers, pleading for her to understand the subtext. “I left because it was the only way I could ever hope to have something good. Something… pure.”

He reached out unconsciously, and his fingers gently brushed the polymer 'N' charm on her necklace—the one he had made for her. It was a symbol of something real between them in a world full of lies. He didn’t know she had been wearing it still. Maybe she did still care about him after all.

“You were the best part of that old life, Nova. My ray of sunshine in the dark. The only part I wanted to keep. Leaving you…” His voice broke, and the raw emotion was genuine. “Leaving you in the dark was the most agonizing part. But I thought it was the only way to make sure that my life, my family’s life, never… never touched you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. The narrative was shifting. He wasn’t just a guy who abandoned her for a better opportunity; he was someone who felt forced into an impossible choice to shield her from a danger she couldn’t yet understand.

“You should have told me,” she whispered, but the accusation was gone. Now it was just hurt.

“I wanted to. Every day. But how do you tell someone that? How do you explain that just being near you felt like putting a target on your back? I thought silence was the only way to keep you safe.”

She searched his eyes and saw the boy she knew—the one who hid bruises and carried a weight she never understood. She saw his pain, and she believed it because Nova knew him.

“Nova, being friends with you means the world to me, but… you are more than just a friend to me. You have always been. I never stopped thinking about you, caring about you. I left because I thought it was the only way I could ever deserve to love you," he whispered, the words finally free after two years.

A sob escaped her, and she leaned into his touch. “You idiot,” she breathed, her voice thick with affection and grief. “Did I ever judge you for who you are? I would have understood. I would have helped you. You didn’t have to carry that alone.”

“I know that now. I’m done carrying things alone. I've had enough. But that's only if you’ll still have me.”

“Victor,” she called him, the previous coldness gone, replaced by a familiar warmth. "You were more than a friend to me too. I was going to talk to you... after graduation. But we both know how that went..." She confessed, her gaze falling to her lap for a moment, the words a balm on two years of heartache. “Of course I still want you.” She turned to look straight into his eyes again. "But there is... more to it, isn’t there? Your life..."

This time, he broke eye contact, looking down at his hands in his lap. 

"There’s so much more to it, and I’m going to tell you everything, Nova. But I’m not ready for that. Not yet. First, I want you to give me a chance, and I’ll do my best to earn your trust again. I want you to get to know the new me. Only then can I express everything to you, and you can decide whether you still want me in your life or not. I will respect your decision—just a little more time."

He couldn't look at her. He had revealed just enough truth to warrant forgiveness for his lies. He hadn’t shared everything, but he had conveyed the most important message: that leaving her had been an act of protection, not rejection.

Nova was silent for a moment before placing her phone, unlocked, into his hands. He turned to her, confused, but she smiled a little.

"Your number. You said you want me to get to know the new you, and that’s only possible if we stay in touch—not just on campus and in your apartment. Unless you plan to vanish without a trace again?" she challenged, teasingly.

He chuckled. "Nope, no more vanishing. I’m back to fight for what I want. I’m not leaving any of you unless you ask me to get lost." He maintained eye contact with her blue eyes to show that he meant it. Then he entered his phone number and handed her phone back.

She called him. "Just in case you don’t have mine anymore," she said, and Victor couldn't help but chuckle again. Knowing Nova, this was also a way to ensure he had given her the right number. Smart girl.

"Sure, sure. Weren’t you supposed to be home by now?" He pointed at her house with a smirk, trying to tease her. She narrowed her eyes playfully in return. "Don’t push your boundaries, Mr. Ashlin."

She grabbed her backpack and turned to open the door, then stopped.

"And Victor?" 

"Yeah?"

She suddenly turned around and hugged him. "I’m so glad you’re back," she whispered.

It took him a moment to register what had just happened. Then he returned the hug. Oh, how he had missed her warm hugs, her scent, her presence. He buried his head in the crook of her neck. "Me too, sunshine." They stayed like that for a few more seconds before they separated, and then he had an idea.

"Hey, Nova? Would you like me to be your driver to campus and back home starting tomorrow? And before you say it, no, I don’t have anything better to do—I’m driving Vera too."

She shrugged. "If that’s okay with you, sure. Thanks for the offer." He nodded as she got out of the car. Before turning to head home, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"See you in the morning, then?"

"Yes, tomorrow morning. I’ll be waiting for you right here. Good night, sunshine." She gave him one last glance and turned away. Already, he missed her. But this was just the start of something new, something precious. No one was going to take that from him.

Neither of them knew that the immense emotional whiplash of their reconciliation—the devastating pain followed by soaring joy—would be the final stressor that pushed her body over the edge. The very love that healed their hearts would, by morning, make her critically ill.

Chapter Text

Nova felt uncertain about her emotions. More specifically, she was experiencing a mix of feelings and didn’t know which one to hold on to. She wanted to stay angry at Victor for leaving her in the dark for two years, but it was difficult after hearing him out. Her words weren’t just excuses; there were genuine reasons behind them. She knew him well, and he had changed in striking ways. He had grown taller and matured into a handsome man who turned heads, but it was the shift in his gaze that intrigued her most. The warmth and carefree laughter in his eyes had been replaced by determination, as if he carried the weight of his experiences. Where he once had laid-back charm, he now exuded caution, moving with deliberate intent and guarded expressions. And yes, she had been watching him subtly, drawn to the young man he had become, wondering if he still held a piece of the boy she knew. And he did. He was still the Victor she knew. 

Her coldness had been her defense mechanism for the past two weeks. She was already stressed about the trial and worried that talking to him wouldn’t end well. "What if he has changed more than it seems? What if he doesn't want me in his life anymore? That's why he didn’t talk to me the last two years, isn’t it?" she thought.

She considered how their conversation might unfold, concerned about what he had to say. Even though Vera had told her that Victor wasn’t trying to talk to her anymore because she was preventing him from doing so, the fact that he kept his distance didn’t help either. When he casually offered to drive her, she couldn’t resist the urge to accept. She knew there was a possibility of ending up in an argument, which wouldn’t be good for either of them or their already awkward situation. Deep down, she believed Victor would never intentionally harm her. At least, she hoped so.

But his previous words and the look in his eyes when they made eye contact proved she was right. He hadn’t lost touch because he didn’t care about her; he had done so because he did care. How could she be mad at him when all he was trying to do was protect her?

She felt a growing concern because he had said his life was darker than it seemed and that his family was not normal. Nova already knew this from high school. Victor may have been away, but she and Ray had grown even closer to Vera and Vargas—their apartment was practically her second home due to the time she spent there. Even though they were living independently now, there were still aspects of their past lives that didn’t completely add up. However, Nova had stopped overthinking those things because all that mattered to her was her friends’ well-being and happiness. If bringing up anything about their families would upset them, she wanted to avoid it.

However, Victor had mentioned survival, which couldn’t be a good sign. What had he experienced that caused him to fear for his safety? Why was he the only one with such concerns? Did it have something to do with his possibly abusive aunt?

Despite all the chaos, he had returned because he was ready to fight for what he wanted. That meant he was capable of facing whatever was troubling him, right?

On top of it all, there was also a flicker of joy—he had feelings for her too! For Nova, her relationship with Victor was different. She had felt that way since high school. She considered each of the cousins to be her best friends, but the way she felt for Victor was unlike her feelings for Vargas. She had never brought it up during high school because, first, she was afraid he might not feel the same way and that she would ruin what they had, and second, she wanted to focus on her studies, not get distracted by high school romance, especially if he did feel the same.

However, none of that mattered now because he had mentioned it himself. Not only had he felt the same way for her in high school, but he still loved her after two years of separation.

But then came doubt. What came next? They had confessed their feelings for each other, but who were they to each other now?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a notification from Vera. She had texted her as promised, right after getting home and before having dinner with her mom. Since both her dad and Ray had shifts that night, lasting until tomorrow afternoon, it was just her and her mom for the evening.  

Her mother had an early meeting the next day, and she was busy preparing for that, so she hadn't questioned Nova about why she was late or who had brought her home. Not that Nova would mind if she did; questioning her with suspicion was more characteristic of Ray or her dad. Her mom never pushed her to talk if she didn't want to share

Her dad was busier than ever recently, dealing with the threats facing Shadyside and the suspicious activities of a new organization whose intentions remained unclear. They hadn't committed any crimes yet, so they weren't technically a threat, but this was Seabrook. Her father had to be cautious about any suspicious activities and consider every possibility to ensure the safety of their citizens.

She knew how hard he was trying to capture the Eldress, the supposed ruler of the underworld, and her enforcers, but they were elusive. It felt like an endless game of cat and mouse. 

And god forbid Ray was around if she had something to worry about or even just think about; he wouldn't let up until he got to the bottom of it. Nova had had enough trouble hiding the fact that Victor was back from them. Not that they wouldn't welcome him; it’s just that she hadn't brought it up because she wasn't sure how to feel about it herself or how to explain why they weren't talking to each other. Plus, tonight she had enough on her plate to focus on.

Right. Back to the present and her chat with Vera.

Nova: I'm home. I'm fine. We actually talked! 20:50  

Vera: Yeah, trust me I know. And, from the smug smile on his face radiating from the other side of the living room since he returned, I can tell it went fine. And for the record, it’s sickening. 😒20:55  

He didn't say anything that upset you, right? I could really use a reason to mop the floor with his face right now. 😈 21:00  

Nova: No, please don't. Actually, it went better than I thought.😁 And OMG, Vera, he said he LOVES me! 21:30  

Vera: What a big surprise that is.🤦‍♀21:35

Nova:You knew it, this entire time?! 21:36

Vera: Seriously?! 21:40  

Nova: What? 21:41  

Vera: Oh, nothing, except that you two are going to be the end of me one of these days!! Of course I knew! I'm basically living with him, Nova. And besides, he really wasn't that secretive about it! 21:43  

Nova: Sorry! 😅 But you love us too much. 😁 21:45  

Vera: And that's exactly gonna be my end! From now on, we have to tolerate you two being lovebirds. Uhgg 21:46  

Nova blushed slightly at that but decided to ignore it.

Nova: We love you too, Vera. By the way, thanks for... You know, the last two weeks. 21:48  

Vera: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go do that final check for tomorrow, Goldilocks. And make sure you get a good night's sleep. God knows you need it. 21:51  

Nova: Sure, Mom. 21:52  

Vera: 🙄 21:53  

Nova: 😅😂 21:54  

With that, she turned her phone off, took a deep breath, and focused on the one emotion she needed more than anything: relief. She was relieved that Victor was back. He was fine, he loved her, and he had promised he wasn't going anywhere this time. Whatever was going to happen, they would face it together. Nova was determined to make sure of it, and they both had reliable siblings to help them through

She smiled to herself and started preparing her things: the case, the necessary papers. 

An hour later, feeling satisfied with everything, she went to bed.

When her alarm went off the next morning, she groaned—not because she didn’t want to wake up, but because she hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Of course, insomnia had struck the night before one of the most important events of her life so far. Her first mock trial was not only supposed to make up the majority of her score for that semester, but it would also test her legal skills in a court setting in front of a real judge.

After pushing her thoughts about Victor aside, she spent most of the night lying in bed, her mind racing with what might happen in court. Unlike others, her role wasn’t scripted; she was supposed to argue the case and defend it, managing the situation based on what the opposing team had to say.

The fact that she hadn’t slept would definitely pose a challenge. To make matters worse, her adrenal fatigue meant she was forbidden from having caffeine. Just great. She needed to find another way to maintain her energy throughout the day. As her heartbeat quickened, she tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths.

It’s going to be fine. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had insomnia. I can do this. A good breakfast will help with the slight dizziness. It’s just due to the lack of sleep—don’t worry.

She got up, moving carefully to avoid stumbling. After washing her face with cold water, she headed downstairs to the kitchen. Her mom had already left, but she had left a note and set the table for breakfast. Unfortunately, nothing on the table appealed to her. The knot in her stomach, which had been growing since the night before, only added to her loss of appetite. She picked up an apple and her water bottle before going to the living room, where she paced slowly, planning her day. It was 6:30, and she still had an hour to get ready for her first class before Victor and Vera picked her up. First, she needed to find a way to alleviate her growing nausea and dizziness.

She spent the next ten minutes lying on the couch with her feet elevated on the cushions, but she didn’t feel any better. In fact, she felt worse. Now her chest ached, her breath had become shallow, and her vision was blurring. The moment she realized she was having an episode and could faint at any moment, her symptoms worsened. Why did this have to happen today of all days?

Okay, Nova, panicking isn’t getting you anywhere. Past experiences have shown that it’s never a good idea to go through this alone. What if you faint, and no one is around to help?? don’t think about that; it’s not helping!

With trembling hands and blurry vision, she managed to reach for her phone, though it took longer than it should have to unlock it.

I can’t call Mom, Dad, or Ray. They’re busy. Calling 911 or asking for help from neighbors is also not an option. They will inform my parents eventually. I don't want my college friends to see me like this. And Vera and Vargas are probably still sleeping....

When she opened her contacts, something caught her attention.Why hadnt she thought about it earlier?

Recent calls: Victor 20:43

As another wave of nausea and dizziness hit her, she clicked the call button without a second thought.

After their conversation last night, Victor felt a fragile sense of peace. Vargas and Vera were still asleep. He’d been sketching in the pre-dawn quiet of the living room, the rhythmic scratch of his pencil a soothing counterpoint to the whirlwind in his heart. The memory of her saying she felt the same way sent a quiet thrill through him. He was sketching the way she’d looked last night, a mix of hurt and hope in her sea-blue eyes.

The vibration of his phone on the table was an intrusion.

Sunshine.

A smile touched his lips as he answered. "Nova—"

The sound that cut him off was a ragged, wet gasp, a struggle for air that erased his smile and turned his blood to ice.

"Vic... I need... help..."

His pencil clattered to the floor. He was on his feet. "Nova?! What's wrong?! Where are you?"

"H... home... I'm not... well... I’m fighting... so hard... not to pass out."

Not an attack,(thank goodness) his mind registered, but the terror in her voice was a different kind of alarm. "Okay, I'm on my way. Is there anyone home?"

"No..."

He was already grabbing his keys. "Nova, stay on the phone. I need the code for your front door. The keypad. What is it?"

There was a terrifying pause. He heard her shaky, labored breath as she tried to concentrate. "It's... my birthday..."

"Okay. I've got it. I'm in the car now. Just keep breathing. I'm coming." He repeated the numbers in his head, a lifeline code as he sprinted to his car and sped through the empty streets. He knew it wasn't the best idea to make her talk at that moment, but he needed to make sure she was still conscious.

"Nova, can you tell me what happened?"

"I....couldn't...sleep....or...eat..."

Damn. That possibly explained a lot.

He screeched to a halt outside her house, vaulted out, and punched the code into the modern keypad. A green light. A soft click. He pushed the door open.

The scene in the living room froze him for a split second. Nova was curled on the couch, but she was ghostly pale, drenched in a cold sweat, her body wracked with fine, uncontrollable tremors. Her eyes were wide with a glassy, unseeing panic.

He was at her side in an instant, kneeling. "Nova, I'm here." He placed a hand on her forehead. It was clammy. "Can you look at me?"

Her gaze flickered to his, but it was distant, trapped in the internal storm. "V-Victor... I feel... so sick..."

"Okay, okay. The bathroom. Can you stand?" He slid an arm under her shoulders, helping her to sit up. The moment she was upright, a violent wave of nausea visibly swept over her. She gagged, her hand flying to her mouth, her whole body convulsing.

"Easy, easy," he murmured, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos.

He helped her to her feet, supporting most of her weight as she stumbled down the hall. Her legs felt like rubber. They had only taken a few shuffling steps when her body tensed, and she dry-heaved. He managed to get her to the bathroom just in time. Her knees hit the tile floor as she crouched near the toilet.

He held her hair back with one hand while the other provided firm, steadying pressure on her back as she was violently sick.

When the heaving finally stopped, she was left gasping, trembling violently, her forehead resting against the cool porcelain. Victor’s heart ached for her. He wet a clean cloth with cold water.

“Easy, sunshine. It’s over,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady anchor in the storm. He gently turned her towards him. She was so weak she could barely lift her head. He supported her with one arm around her shoulders while his other hand, holding the cloth, gently wiped her mouth and then her forehead, cooling her feverish skin. He guided her through two steps to the sink and turned on the tap. “Here, rinse your mouth.”

She obeyed weakly, splashing a little water while he continued to dab the back of her neck with the cool cloth, trying to combat the cold sweat on her skin. She leaned heavily against him, her entire body shaking with exhaustion and the aftershocks of nausea. The simple act of being upright was clearly too demanding for her right now.

“Okay, let’s get you back to the couch,” he said softly. He turned off the water and gently guided her down the hall, his movements slow and deliberate. He was lowering her onto the cushions when she suddenly went limp. 

“Vic, I…” she started but couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Nova?”

Her eyes rolled back.

"Nova!!" His breath hitched. He caught her fully, sinking to his knees with her to cushion her fall. He tried to stay calm and remember the basic things Aida and her husband, Alex, had taught them about medical emergencies when they were younger. He lay her flat on her back gently on the living room rug, ensuring her airway was open by tilting her head back slightly. His fingers immediately went to the pulse point on her neck. It was fast and thready under his fingers. Her breathing was shallow. “Nova?” he pleaded, tapping her cheek lightly and brushing her bangs from her face.

“Nova, please open your eyes!”

It felt like an eternity, but only a minute or two passed before her eyelids fluttered open. However, the consciousness that returned was not a relief. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, and the trembling started again, worse than before. A low whimper escaped her lips. He carefully turned her onto her side into the recovery position. This was supposed to help her after regaining consciousness, so she wouldn’t choke if she got sick again. He really had to thank Aida later for being strict about small details during their training; he knew he had been a pain in the neck during that course.

Victor had been with Nova during her episodes more than once, and Vera had been updating him about her condition regularly while he was away. Ever since they had met Nova, it had never been this bad.

“T… trail…” she said with a shaky voice, her eyes glassy and barely focused on him. 

Victor’s eyes snapped to the clock on the wall: 7:00 AM. The trial was at 1:00 PM—nearly six hours away. He looked back at her and realized the sheer physical impossibility of her even sitting up, let alone arguing a case. The decision was instant, cutting through his panic.

He shook his head, his voice leaving no room for argument as he brushed a strand of damp hair from her forehead. “Okay, no classes for any of us today. We have time before the trial, but first, I'm getting you to the ER. Once we get you help, we can focus on the trial.” 

She nodded slightly in acknowledgment.She clearly lacked the energy to hold a verbal conversation.

Scooping her into his arms, he carried her out to the car. He barely managed to close the door behind them and buckled her in as she trembled uncontrollably. Then he rushed to his seat. His first and only mission now was to stabilize Nova. Everything else could wait.

Victor slid into the driver's seat, his own hands trembling now that the immediate need for action was over. He started the engine and pulled away from the curb with a smooth urgency, breaking the speed limit just enough to be quick but not enough to draw attention.

Nova was slumped in the passenger seat, her head lolled against the window. Her eyes were closed, but the fine tremors still wracked her frame. He reached over and gently took her icy hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

"I've got you," he said, his voice low but firm, cutting through the silence. "Just hold on. Five more minutes. We're almost there."

He kept talking, a steady stream of reassurance. "They're going to help you, Nova. They'll get you an IV, some fluids. That's all this is, your body just needs a jump start. You're just exhausted. " He was explaining it to her, but also to himself, creating a logical pathway out of the terrifying helplessness he felt.

He pulled up to the Emergency Room entrance, parking haphazardly by the curb. He was out of the car in a second, rounding the hood to her door. He unbuckled her and lifted her into his arms again. She was frighteningly light, and her weakness terrified him.

He pushed through the automatic doors and entered the bright, sterile chaos of the emergency room. He approached the triage nurse with urgency in his voice. "I need help. My friend fainted about ten minutes ago. She’s been vomiting and shaking uncontrollably. She also has a history of adrenal fatigue."

The nurse, trained to assess quickly, took one look at Nova's pallor and the tremors and nodded. She led them to a bay. "Bring her this way."

He followed the nurse to a curtained bay and gently placed Nova on the bed. He provided a rapid-fire report to the nurse who began hooking Nova up to a monitor. "Her name is Nova Bright. Extreme stress, no sleep that I know of, probably hasn't eaten. She fainted for about two minutes at home."

A doctor arrived, and Victor repeated the information, his answers short and precise. 

When a nurse tried to gently suggest he wait outside, Nova's eyes widened, fingers weakly curled around his, and her breathing hitched even more.

Victor shook his head-the idea of leaving her alone here in this state also terrified him inside, choosing his words wisely. "I can't leave her. I'm her emotional support. If I do, she'll start panicking and that's the last thing we need right now." It wasn't a lie. Nova had once told him that due to her unpleasant visits to the ER when she was younger, the idea of being there, lying on the bed helplessly, being attached to monitors and IVs panicked her. And he needed to be right if he didn't want to lose his mind in the waiting room too.

"It's the hospital's policy." The nurse looked at both of them, assessing the situation then nodded her head in reluctant agreement."But I guess this is an exception. Just make sure you stay out of the way."

He watched as they started an IV line in the back of her hand, the needle a sharp contrast to her pale skin. He flinched internally but kept his expression neutral. Then they started a second line. As much as he knew, the first one was Normal Saline for her dehydration and to help balance her blood pressure, and the second one was to administer glucose, balance her blood sugar, since she had skipped breakfast. They also drew a blood sample.

When they placed an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, the hiss of the gas seemed loud in the small space.

Throughout it all, he stood sentinel by the bed, as close to the wall behind them as possible to not get in their way-one of his hands gripping her IV-free hand, a physical tether for both of them. Seeing his brave, cheerful Nova in this state was a total nightmare for him.

At some point, he had texted Vera to inform her about the situation at hand and asked for her assistance.

As the fluids and medication began to flow into her system, a noticeable change occurred. The violent trembling subsided into a deep, bone-weary stillness, and her deathly pallor lessened. After about thirty minutes, her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a gaze that, while exhausted, was clearer.

The first thing she did was glance at the clock on the wall: 8:15 AM. A frown of distress crossed her brow as she tried to reach for her oxygen mask. Seeing her weak attempt, he helped her remove it from her face and rested it gently on her chest.

"Victor, I gotta make it in time. " she murmured. 

He leaned closer, his voice soft but steady. "It's handled. Or it will be. Vera knows, and she's on her way here. We'll figure it out together. We have time—the trial isn't for hours. Right now," he nodded toward the IV bag, "this is the most important thing."

He noticed the protest in her eyes and the fear of letting her team down. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Nova, look at me. You just fainted an hour ago You're in the hospital. This is non-negotiable. We're staying here until the doctor says you're stable."

The fight drained out of her. She closed her eyes and relaxed, just the slightest bit.

About fifteen minutes later, one of the nurses from earlier came in with a clipboard in hand. 

"We administered some medication into your IV bag earlier that should help alleviate your nausea. Are you feeling any better, sweetheart, or is the nausea still lingering?" 

"I feel... a bit better," Nova replied. 

The nurse smiled reassuringly. "That's a positive sign; it seems the medication is taking effect." 

Turning her attention back to Victor, she continued, "For now, she should drink juice until we can confirm she can tolerate solid food. While the IV helps maintain her glucose levels, nothing can truly replace real food and drink."

Victor nodded. After the nurse checked Nova's vitals and left, he texted Vera again to get some juice on her way. 

Ten minutes later, the curtains swished aside. Vera stood there, holding a tray with two coffees and a large bottle of juice. Her sharp eyes took in the scene in a single, comprehensive glance: the IV, the oxygen, Nova's fragile state, and Victor's protective posture.

She didn't ask if Nova was okay. She could see she wasn't. Instead, she set the tray down and handed Victor a coffee. "Status?" she asked, her voice low.

"Stable. Improving," Victor reported, his voice rough. "They're rehydrating her, getting her blood sugar up."

Vera gave a curt nod. Her gaze shifted to Nova, and her expression softened a fraction. She picked up the juice, opened it, and held the straw to Nova's lips. "Drink. Small sips."

Victor took the juice box from Vera. He slid his hand gently behind Nova’s head, lifting it just enough so she could sip without choking. Her hand came up, trembling slightly, to hold the box steady, her fingers brushing against his. The simple act of connection, of helping her with something so basic, felt profoundly important.

After a few sips, she leaned back against the pillow, her energy spent. Her glassy eyes filled with fresh tears, but this time it was guilt. "I'm... I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Your classes... the trial... I've ruined everything for us."

Before Victor could respond, Vera cut in, her voice a crisp, no-nonsense blade that sliced through the self-pity.

"Stop that," Vera said, not unkindly, but with absolute authority. She crossed her arms. "You didn't ruin anything. The classes are notes we can copy. The trial is a problem we will solve. Your body shut down. It's not like you are doing it intentionally. It's not a moral failing. So quit apologizing and focus on getting better. That's your only job right now."

Nova looked at her, and a weak, grateful smile touched her lips. That was Vera's version of a heartfelt pep talk, and it was exactly what Nova needed.

Just then, the doctor returned, clipboard in hand. "Ms. Bright? Your vitals are stabilizing nicely. The fluids are doing their job. Our main concern now is complete rest for the next 24 to 48 hours."

Vera stepped forward, seamlessly taking charge. "Doctor, we understand. However, she has a crucial academic commitment at 1 PM. It's non-negotiable. We need to be able to leave here by 12:30 at the latest."

The doctor looked skeptical, his eyes shifting to Nova's pale, exhausted face. "I really can't recommend—"

"We're not asking for a medical clearance to run a marathon," Vera interrupted, her tone respectful but firm. "We're asking for discharge under strict orders for rest. My cousin and I," she gestured to Victor, "will be with her every second. We will ensure she does nothing but sit and rest. We will handle all her needs. This event is seated, and her participation is primarily mental. We will take full responsibility."

Victor nodded, adding his silent support to Vera's argument. He stood a little straighter, his presence reinforcing her promise of care.

The doctor looked between the two of them—Vera, the picture of fierce, pragmatic determination, and Victor, the silent, unwavering guardian. He sighed, scribbling on his clipboard. "Alright. I'll discharge her at 12:15," he said, leveling a stern look at all three of them, "the moment she feels faint, nauseous, or worse, you bring her back immediately. Is that clear? This is against my better judgment."

"Crystal clear," Vera said, a glint of victory in her eyes. "Thank you, Doctor."

A collective, silent wave of relief washed over the trio. The doctor's conditional approval was a hard-won victory. The immediate crisis had been averted, and a path forward—however precarious—was now clear.

Vera immediately shifted into operational mode. "Okay. New plan," she stated, pulling out her phone. "I'll call Professor Richardson now and explain the situation. She's tough, but she's not unreasonable. She'll understand a medical emergency." She began typing a text, her thumbs flying across the screen.

Then, she looked up at Nova. "I'm going to your house. You have prepared everything for today in your room right?"

Nova nodded.

"Great. I'll get your trial backpack, your notes, everything. And I'm bringing you a brand-new set of clothes. You're not arguing your case in what you wore to the ER. Then I'll get my stuff and get changed as well"

Nova managed a weak but grateful nod. "Thank you, V."

Victor dug into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. "Take my car. It's faster." He tossed them underhand to Vera.

She caught them with a practiced, effortless snap of her hand, without even looking up from her phone. "On it. I'll be back by 11:45. Don't let her move." She gave Victor a meaningful look that said 'I'm holding you personally responsible,' then turned and swept out of the curtained bay, her footsteps fading down the hallway.

The room was quiet again, save for the hum and beep of the monitors. Victor pulled the visitor's chair closer to the bed and sat down. He gently took Nova's hand, the one without the IV, his thumb stroking the back of it.

"Okay, sunshine," he said, his voice dropping to a soft, soothing murmur. "The hard part is over. Vera's handling everything. Your job now is to close your eyes. Even if you can't sleep, just rest. No thinking about the case. No worrying. Just breathe. That's all you need to do. "

Nova's eyelids were already heavy. The adrenaline had crashed, leaving behind a deep, bone-aching exhaustion. The pressure of the trial was temporarily lifted from her shoulders and placed onto Vera's capable ones. With Victor's hand anchoring her, his presence a solid wall between her and the world, she felt safe enough to let go.

She closed her eyes. Victor sat in silence, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. He didn't move, except to occasionally adjust the blanket or check the IV drip. He was her sole sentinel, guarding her fragile peace.

For the next two hours, the hospital bay was a sanctuary. Nova drifted in and out of a light, fitful doze, each time waking to find Victor exactly where he'd been, his watchful gaze a constant reassurance. It wasn't the deep, healing sleep she needed, but it was a crucial recharge, a gathering of strength for the challenge to come.

Right on schedule at 11:45, the curtain whispered aside. Vera was back, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and Nova's professional trial backpack in her hand. She looked at Victor, then at the sleeping Nova, and gave a single, satisfied nod. The team was reassembling. Phase Two was about to begin.

Vera’s return was as quiet and efficient as her departure. She placed Nova’s trial backpack carefully on a chair and unzipped the duffel bag.

“Alright, Goldilocks. Rise and shine,” she said, her voice low but businesslike. “It’s time to get ready.”

Victor helped Nova sit up slowly. The nap and continued IV fluids had worked a minor miracle. The deathly pallor was gone, replaced by the pale but normal complexion of someone who was simply very tired.

As the doctor finalized the discharge paperwork, Vera laid out the clothes she had brought: elegant cream-colored trousers and a soft cherry-red blouse—professional, comfortable, and perfectly in Nova’s style. The moment they were alone, the operation went into motion.

In the private bathroom, Victor was Nova’s steady support. He turned his back to give the girls privacy as Nova got changed. When she was ready, he returned and held her from behind, offering physical support as Vera helped her apply a little natural-looking makeup to conceal the exhaustion on her face as much as possible. When it was time for shoes, Victor knelt and carefully slipped her white and gold sneakers onto her feet, his touch gentle and precise.

Lastly, Vera handed him a simple gold hair clip. "You do it. You're better with... subtle touches." He nodded with a smile, and with the practiced ease of an artist, he gathered Nova’s hair into a loose, neat bun at the nape of her neck, securing it effortlessly. It was a small touch that made her look both professional and cared for. In the end, Nova more looked like a student who was simply exhausted, rather than just being discharged from the hospital.

By 12:20 PM, they were in the car. Victor slid into the driver’s seat and turned to Vera. “V, when you talk to the professor, see if you can get me into the courtroom too. Tell her I’m a character witness for the plaintiff’s dedication—an art student. It might help.”

Vera gave a sharp nod. “On it.” Then she pulled a small container of plain crackers and a bottle of water from her bag, handing them to Victor. “Doctor’s orders: little and often.”

Victor passed them to Nova. “Here, try to eat a few. Slowly.”

As he drove, Nova nibbled on a cracker. In the backseat, Vera opened Nova’s binder, but her approach was strategic, not overwhelming.

“Listen,” Vera began, her tone focused but calm. “You’re probably not going to be coherent enough for a lot of improvisation today, and that’s fine. Don’t try. Stick to our practiced points. Trust yourself. I’ve seen you run through this a hundred times; your performance is perfect when you’re just being you.”

She tapped the binder. “I’ll be right there. If you need a statistic or a case reference, I’ll slide you a note. Your only jobs are to breathe, speak, and take small sips of water as often as you can remember. Understood?”

Nova nodded, the simple, direct instructions cutting through the remaining mental fog. Vera’s confidence acted as a shield, and Victor’s quiet presence beside her served as an anchor. The Firecracker wasn’t just reigniting; she was being meticulously and lovingly fortified for battle. They pulled up to the courthouse, a united front.

The Courthouse

The small conference room buzzed with nervous energy, spiking the moment Victor entered, supporting Nova by the elbow, followed by Vera. The team included four more students: Sarah, Chloe, Ben, and Liam. All four of them descended upon Nova at once.

"Nova! We were so worried!" Chloe exclaimed.

Nova responded in a low, firm voice, "Thanks, but I'm okay—"

Sarah interrupted, "The professor said it was a medical emergency, but we need to know if you're up for this. The opposition's rebuttal strategy hinges on—"

Liam, feeling stressed and overwhelmed, didn't wait for Sarah to finish. "Yeah, are you sure you can handle your opening? Because if you can't, we need to reassign the citations to Ben now, and I'll have to expand my—"

The barrage of questions and pressures came at her like a hailstorm. Nova managed to answer the first two, her voice thin as she tried to maintain her usual authority. "I'm okay... just a bit... the doctors said..." But the overlapping voices, the staring eyes, and the weight of their collective anxiety pressed down on her. Her breath hitched; the room began to tilt. The panic, which she had recently subdued, flickered back to life in her eyes.

Seeing her falter, Victor smoothly inserted himself into the center of the group, his movements calm yet deliberate, breaking their line of sight to Nova.

"Alright, everyone, cool it," he said, his voice laced with dry wit that cut through the noise. "She needs to breathe, not answer twenty questions at once. The only thing she's handling right now is the floor if you don't give her some space."

The team fell silent, startled by his commanding presence.

Liam, his pride stung, scowled. "And who are you, exactly?"

After twelve hours of chaos, Nova's brain didn't quite filter her next words, but they burst forth from her with a force born of protective instinct and frayed nerves. "He's my boyfriend."

She registered what she had just said a second late. Everyone's eyes grew wide,including herself

The silence was absolute. Vera smirked mischievously in the corner, not looking up from her files. Chloe's jaw dropped. Ben looked intrigued. Liam was rendered speechless.

Victor turned his head slightly, raising an amused eyebrow at Nova as if to say, "Well, that's one way to shut him up." He then looked back at Liam, a faint, challenging smile on his lips. "So, unless the case law states that boyfriends aren't allowed to suggest basic human courtesy, I suggest we all take a breath. Together."

Liam, thoroughly deflated and outmaneuvered, could only mutter, "Right. Whatever."

As the team, now quieter, moved to the table, Victor guided Nova to the corner. The surprise of her own declaration was written all over her face.

"Boyfriend, huh?" Victor whispered, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper. "A little bold for a first day on the job, but I'm not complaining. Though, I need to ask: Did you mean it?" he asked softly.

Feeling the way he'd just effortlessly defended her and how safe he made her feel after being around for less than twenty-four hours, even more than before, Nova nodded, a smile breaking through her anxiety. "Yes. I really did. That's only if... " She then hesitated."Only if you want to be..."

"There is no other title I prefer more, sunshine," he said, his voice warm, and his eyes bright with pure joy and happiness. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her temple. She closed her eyes melted at that motion,feeling true warmth sinking into he bones for the first time that day.

Then Victor held out his hand,with a little dramatic bow.

"Now let's go win this thing, shall we?" She intertwined her hand with his and grabbed his arm with her other hand.

"Let's do it.Together."

Earlier, Vera had approached Professor Richardson, a sharp, no-nonsense woman in her fifties.

"Professor, a request," Vera had said. "We'd like to add a character witness. Victor Ashlin. He can speak to the plaintiff's creative passion and work ethic. It will humanize our case."

The professor had looked Victor up and down. "And you are?" she asked him directly.

"An art student, ma'am," Victor replied, meeting her gaze steadily.

Professor Richardson’s eyes flicked between Victor, Vera, and Nova. "I see. And your connection to my two-star litigators?"

"They're... very important to me," Victor said carefully.

A faint smile touched the professor's lips. "Well, if you're close to these two, you probably know a thing or two about arguing a point. Alright, Mr. Ashlin. Brief testimony only. Stick to what you know. Don't try to be a lawyer."

Now, outside the courtroom doors, Vera quickly filled Victor in. "Your role is simple. When I call you, you walk to the stand. They'll swear you in. I'll ask: 'Can you describe the plaintiff's dedication to her art?' You answer with a short, honest statement about passion and hard work. Two sentences max. Then you're done."

Victor nodded, absorbing the instructions like he would a mission briefing.

Nova watched them, taking a slow sip of water. Seeing Victor, her rock, being seamlessly integrated into her world, hearing him confirmed as her boyfriend, feeling the professor's trust—it all coalesced into a new, unshakable confidence. They were a team. A real one.

Vera gave Nova’s arm a final, firm squeeze. "Stick to the plan. Trust yourself. We've got you."

The courtroom doors opened. Nova took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and led her team inside, feeling Victor's supportive gaze on her back every step of the way. She was ready.

Chapter Text

The trial showcased focused energy. Nova stood to give her opening statement, supported by Victor in the front row and Vera’s helpful notes. Her voice was softer than usual, but it was clear and sincere. She followed their practiced points carefully, making her arguments logical and strong.

When it was time, Vera called Victor to the stand. He was sworn in, looking every bit the thoughtful artist. Vera asked him a single, simple question.

He answered not with legal jargon, but with a quiet, genuine conviction that made the jury lean in. "I know that when someone has a true passion, it's not a hobby. It's a part of them. They'll stay up all night, they'll push through anything, because creating something meaningful isn't a choice. It's a need."

It was the perfect, human touch that they needed. When he was done Nova gave him a slight approval (and grateful) nod and he returned it with a smile.

During the opposing team's questioning, they tried to unsettle Nova, probably noticing her exhaustion. But she remembered Vera's advice. She didn’t improvise. She stood firm, taking a small, deliberate sip of water after each tough question to calm herself and find the flaw in their argument.

When the judge finally announced the verdict in their favor, the win felt more like relief than a victory. It was a solid, professional win, achieved not by flashy speeches, but by persistent effort. The relief was so strong that it was disorienting. The tension that had been keeping her upright faded away. As the soft, congratulatory murmurs spread through their team, a wave of lightheadedness made her feel slightly unsteady. It was a small sway, so subtle that anyone not watching her closely would not notice it.

But he was.

In the space between one breath and the next, Victor was at her side. He didn't grab her or make a scene. His hand came to rest on the small of her back, a firm, warm pressure that instantly grounded her. His other hand gently covered the one she had resting on the table, his thumb stroking over her knuckles in a slow, hidden rhythm.

"Breathe, sunshine," he murmured, his voice so low it was a vibration only she could feel. "It's done. You were perfect. You nailed it! "

Nova leaned into the touch, just a fraction, drawing strength from his solid presence. She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his. The exhaustion in them was bottomless, but beneath it was a glow of shared sympathy.

"We did it! We finally did it! It's over! " she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with wonder.

We. The word hung in the air between them, encompassing more than just the trial.

Victor's smile was soft, his eyes shining with a pride that was just for her. "No," he corrected gently, his thumb still tracing circles on her hand. "You did. You argued the case and paved the final path to victory for your team. And I just had the best seat in the house."

He didn't move away. He remained her silent pillar as their teammates offered their congratulations, his hand on her back a constant, steadying reminder that she was safe, the battle was won, and she could finally, truly, let her guard down. The victory was public, but this moment—this quiet, profound exchange of strength and relief—was entirely, beautifully theirs.

The walk to the car was a blur. Victor kept his arm around Nova, guiding her steps as she moved on autopilot, concentrating her energy on putting one foot in front of the other. 

The moment he opened the back passenger door, she practically melted inside, sinking into the seat with a heavy, exhausted sigh, her eyes already closing.

Victor carefully buckled her in, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead before he closed the door.

In the front seat, he and Vera exchanged a look. It was Vera who voiced the quiet question, turning slightly to face the back. "Nova," she said, her tone softer than usual. "Do you want us to take you home? Or do you want to come back to our place?"

Victor glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his expression open and reassuring. "Wherever you want to be. We're with you either way."

There was a long pause. Nova's eyes opened halfway, looking between their reflections—Vera's pragmatic concern, Victor's unwavering support. The thought of her own quiet, empty house felt isolating and cold. Not to mention she was not going to let her parents see her like this. Their apartment, despite its chaos, felt like a fortress.

"Your place," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. "If... if that won't bother you."

Victor's gaze caught hers in the mirror, a soft, heartfelt smile touching his lips. "Nova," he said, his voice low and sincere, "I can’t imagine any situation where having you around wouldn't be a privilege."

From the passenger seat, Vera let out a loud, dramatic groan. "Ugh. Disgusting. I'm going to be sick. Can you two please save the soulmate declarations until after I'm out of the car?"

A weak, genuine laugh escaped Nova, the sound muffled against the seat. Victor just smirked, starting the engine.

"See?" Vera grumbled, though there was no real malice in it. "She's already corrupted. Get us home, loverboy. Our Firecracker needs a nap."

The short drive was a silent one, the car filled with a weary peace. When they arrived at the apartment, Victor helped a drowsy Nova from the car, his arm a steady brace around her as they made their way inside.

The moment they entered, Vera moved ahead of them. Her intention was clear: to offer her own room. But as her hand touched the doorknob, she froze, remembering the chaos she hadn't gotten time to put out of Nova's sight. Her eyes met Victor's over Nova's head, and a silent, urgent conversation passed between them in a split second.

-Files on the Fangs and Ashes operations are on the desk. It's not secure.

Victor read the words through her expression. Understood. Not an option.

Vera's gaze then flickered to the living room couch, a question in her eyes.

Victor gave a minute shake of his head, his hold on Nova tightening just slightly:She needs more than a couch.

There was only one option left. Victor gave Vera a final, confirming look before gently guiding Nova down the short hall. "In here," he said softly, pushing open the door to the room he shared with Vargas.

The room was a study in controlled chaos. Both sides were messy, but Vargas's was a hurricane of discarded clothes, random tools, and snack leftovers. Victor's side, by contrast, was the mess of an artist—stacks of sketchbooks, pencils scattered like fallen twigs, but the bed itself was clear.

Nova blinked slowly, taking in the scene. A faint, tired smile touched her lips. "I see Vargas is still... living his best life," she murmured, her voice raspy. She had almost never spent time in Vargas's room even before Victor's return. They would either hung out in their kitchen or living room or in Vera's when they had a project together. Vargas himself spent minimum time there. And she had stayed away from there recently.

It was bigger than Vera's room, giving both boys enough space.

Victor laughed softly. "He calls it 'organized chaos.' I simply call it a mess." He motioned for her to sit on his relatively tidy bed. "Sit here."

As she sat, he immediately crouched in front of her. "Let's get these off," he said, his voice gentle as his fingers went to the laces of her shoes. He carefully untied the knots and slipped one shoe off, then the other. He set them aside neatly.

It was as he looked up to ask if she needed anything else that he saw it. She was swaying again. Just the slightest, almost imperceptible tremor, a slow, gentle rocking motion where she sat. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her body beginning to surrender to the exhaustion regardless of her position.

"Hey," he said softly, his hands coming up to rest on her arms, steadying her. "You're safe now. You can let go.

He didn't wait for her to try and lie down under her own power. In one smooth, careful motion, he rose, slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, and lifted her just enough to put her properly onto the mattress. He laid her down against the pillows and pulled the comforter over her, tucking it around her shoulders.

A sigh of pure relief escaped her as her head sank into the pillow. Her eyes fluttered shut. 

Victor brushed a final strand of hair from her forehead. "Just sleep, sunshine."

With Nova safely tucked in, the last of Victor’s adrenaline faded, leaving behind a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. He moved quietly to the worn armchair in the corner, intending to keep watch.

He was just about to get to it when a light pale hand grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t go please.”

He looked over. Nova’s eyes were barely open, just hazy slits of blue watching him. With a lazy shuffle, she shifted toward the wall, making a clear space on the bed beside her. For him. “Stay?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. A slow, tired smile touched his lips. “Sure.”

Pushing himself up, he sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned back, using his feet to push his own shoes off, letting them drop to the floor with two soft thuds. He then lay down on top of the comforter, leaving a careful space between them. They lay on their sides, face to face in the quiet dimness, the reality of the moment settling over them. The intensity of the day had given way to a sudden, gentle awkwardness.

Nova’s eyes, now a little more open, met his. A faint, self-conscious smile played on her lips.

"Hey," she breathed, the word soft and a little shy.

Victor’s smile widened, his own "hey" coming out as a low, warm rumble. It was a simple, silly exchange that somehow made everything feel wonderfully, perfectly real.

The awkwardness melted away. After a moment, Victor slowly slid his left hand across the cool sheets. His fingers found hers, and he enveloped her right hand fully with his left, his thumb coming to rest against her pulse point—a steady, grounding anchor. Their hands competed eachother perfectly. Her subtle, cool, soft white hands fitting his cold, bigger stronger,tanned and trained hands.

Nova’s fingers curled in response, a faint, contented pressure. Her eyes drifted fully shut. Victor watched her for a moment longer before closing his own, the feel of her hand in his pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A short while later the deep, peaceful silence of the apartment was shattered by the front door banging open.

"I'm home! And I'm so hungry I could swallow ten servings of food at once!" Vargas's voice boomed through the small space, followed by the clatter of his keys hitting the bowl. "Seriously, is there any real food, or am I doomed to expired yogurt again?"

He didn't wait for an answer, beelining for his room to dump his bag and change. He shoved the door open, still muttering about his empty stomach, and then....

His brain short-circuited.

There, in his room, on Victor's bed, was a scene of such profound, unexpected domesticity that his vocabulary shorted out. Victor was asleep on his side. And right there, facing him, was Nova, also fast asleep. A careful, respectful space separated them, but bridging that gap, resting on the rumpled comforter, were their hands, fingers perfectly laced together.

Vargas's jaw dropped. He blinked several times. He took a slow, deliberate step back into the hallway, pulled the door shut, then opened it again, as if expecting the vision to have been a hallucination.

It wasn't.

He stumbled backward, a choked noise escaping his throat, and collided with Vera, who had emerged from her room to investigate the noise.

"What the heck is wrong with you Vargas?!" She was clearly annoyed.

"Vera," he whispered, his eyes wide as plates. He pointed a trembling finger toward the bedroom door. "The... the bed... There's a Nova... in Victor's bed! They're... they're sleeping hand-in-hand!"

He clutched his chest dramatically. "I think my heart just exploded from the sweetness. It's a medical emergency. Call Aida. Or Ben. Maybe they know CPR for emotionally overwhelmed cousins."

A flicker of surprise—and then mild interest—crossed Vera's face. She hadn't known they were both asleep. She nudged past the theatrically dying Vargas and cracked the door open just enough to peer inside. She saw them: Victor and Nova, face to face, hands clasped between them like a promise. A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touched her lips before she closed the door silently.

She turned back to Vargas. "If you wake them up," she said, her voice lethally calm, "the only person you'll need is not Aida, but Ben to identify your dead body. Victor will rearrange your face, and I'll help him hide the body, definitely no need for the rest of the gang to get involved."

"But the hands, Vera! They are hand-holding!" Vargas continued, following her into the kitchen, his voice a hushed, frantic whisper.

Vera opened the refrigerator and pulled out a wrapped sandwich, shoving it into his hands. "Here. Eat this. And for the love of all that is quiet, stop having a feelings-based meltdown.

Vargas, now armed with a sandwich, was not so easily deterred. "Come on, V. Spill the tea. What happened? Did I miss the whole courtship? Was there a dramatic proposal? A secret wedding? I leave for one shift and I come back to this?"

The bedroom door creaked open again. Victor shuffled out, his hair a mess, his eyes squinting against the living room light. He looked thoroughly sleep-rumpled and deeply grumpy. "‘S too loud," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He slumped onto a stool at the kitchen counter beside Vargas, dropping his head into his hands.

Vargas immediately swiveled to face him, a massive grin spreading across his face. "Well, well. Look who finally emerged from the cuddle cave. Rough day, loverboy?"

Victor just grunted in response.

"Let me guess," Vargas pressed, undeterred. "You had to hold your dream girl's hand. You had to take a nap next to her. The horror. Truly, your suffering is legendary."

Victor finally lifted his head, glaring through bleary eyes. "We were at the ER, Vargas. She passed out. It wasn't a date."

Vargas's smile softened for a half-second before returning. "Okay, scary start. But then!" He wiggled his eyebrows. "The whole 'sharing a bed' and 'hand-holding' situation? That's a pretty solid upgrade from 'guy who drives her to the campus, or in today's case, to the hospital'."

A faint, undeniable smile touched Victor's lips despite his exhaustion. He looked down at the counter, a quiet pride smoothing the grumpy lines from his face. "Yeah, well... she called me her boyfriend."

Vargas's eyes bugged out. He slammed a hand on the counter. "SHUT. UP. She said it? Out loud? To people? When? How? Details, man, I need details!"

Victor opened his mouth, but Vera cut in from the stove, not even turning around. "Liam was being a pain in the neck, crowding her before the trial. Victor told him to back off. Liam asked who he was." She finally glanced over her shoulder, a rare glint of approval in her eyes. "And Nova looked him dead in the eye and said, 'He's my boyfriend.'"

Vera turned back to the stove. "It was... unexpectedly badass.

Victor's proud smile widened into a full, soft grin. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice warm. "It was."

They ate their late lunch together at the counter, the easy camaraderie settling back over them. When they were done, Vera dished a portion of warm, simple broth into a bowl and placed it in front of Victor.

"For Nova," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "She's had nothing but water and crackers all day. She needs to get something solid in her stomach before she sleeps the whole day away."

Victor nodded, the responsibility settling comfortably on his shoulders. He picked up the bowl, his expression shifting from contented pride to gentle resolve. "I'll wake her.

He walked back to the bedroom, and pushed the door open softly. The sight of Nova, still peacefully asleep, her features softened in the dim light, made his heart clench. He hated to disturb the first real rest she’d gotten all day, but he knew Vera was right. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, setting the warm bowl of broth on the nightstand.

He reached out, his touch as light as a breath, and cupped her cheek. "Nova?" he whispered, his thumb stroking gently. "Sunshine, you need to wake up for a minute. Just to eat a little."

Nova stirred, a soft, contented sound escaping her lips. Her eyes fluttered open, and this time, there was no panic, no glassy exhaustion. Instead, her gaze was hazy with deep sleep, warm and trusting. A slow, cozy smile spread across her face as she focused on him. "Victor," she murmured, her voice thick and sleepy.

"Hey," he said softly, his own smile mirroring hers. "Can you sit up for me?"

With his help, she shifted, leaning back against the headboard. But she was still wobbly, her body heavy with sleep. Without a second thought, Victor slid in right beside her, his shoulder becoming a solid pillow for her to lean against. He reached for the bowl.

"Here," he murmured, bringing a spoonful of the warm broth to her lips. "Small sips."

Nova leaned her head against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed in contentment. She took the spoonful he offered, the simple, warm nourishment spreading through her. He managed to guide two more spoonfuls to her lips before her chewing slowed, her breathing deepening once more.

"Thanks..."She murmured sleepily.

"You're most welcome."He replied.

Victor set the half-finished bowl back on the nightstand, his own movements growing sluggish. The warmth of the room, the solid, trusting weight of Nova against his side, and his own profound exhaustion pulled at him like a tide.

He made no move to extricate himself. Instead, he adjusted his arm around her, securing her more comfortably against him, and let his own head rest gently against hers.

No more words were spoken. In the quiet dimness of the room, propped up against the headboard, the half-eaten bowl of broth forgotten, they simply surrendered. Their breathing synchronized, slow and deep, as sleep gently reclaimed them both. They drifted off together, a tangle of weary limbs and quiet hearts, finding a deeper rest in the comfort of each other than either could have found alone.

The fragile peace of the apartment was shattered by the violent buzzing of Vera’s phone on the kitchen counter. She picked it up, seeing Ray’s name. Her expression, for a fraction of a second, was one of pure dread before she schooled it back to neutrality. She answered.

“Vera.” Ray’s voice was tight, clipped, all business. “Where is my sister? She isn't answering our messages or calls”

“She’s here, Ray. She’s safe,” Vera said, her tone carefully level.

“Safe?” The word was a crack of disbelief. “We just pulled the security footage from our house. We saw a guy who looked a hell of a lot like Victor Ashlin—a guy who hasn't been seen in over two years—carry her out of the house this morning. She looked unconscious. Then we saw you show up an hour later and take her bag. She hasn't answered a single call or text all day. So you tell me, Vera, what part of that sounds safe?”

Vera took a sharp breath. “Ray, listen to me. She had a severe medical episode this morning. An adrenal crash. Victor was the one she called. He got her to the hospital. She’s been sleeping it off here ever since. She’s okay.”

There was a beat of stunned silence on the other end. Vera could almost hear the gears turning in his head, the cop and the brother warring with each other.

“A medical episode,” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. “And you didn’t think to call her family? You didn’t think we’d want to know?”

“Ray—”

He didn’t let her finish. “I’m on my way. Don’t you dare move her.

The line went dead.

Vera lowered the phone, her jaw tight.She exchanged a look with Vargas who had been laying on the couch and had gotten up after Rays call. Then they both looked toward the closed bedroom door. They really couldn't take a break could they?

The first hammering on the apartment door was louder and more urgent than Vargas's earlier entrance. Vera opened it to find Ray, his face a mask of controlled fury and fear. Still in his uniform. He brushed past her without a word, his cop's eyes scanning the room.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice low.

"Dude wait-"

"Ray-"

Before Vera and Vargas could steer him, he was already moving, striding down the short hall and shoving the bedroom door open.

He froze on the threshold.

The sight that greeted him was not one of distress, but of profound peace. His sister was deep in a healing sleep. And Victor Ashlin was there, asleep facing her, one of his hands enveloping both of hers. It was a picture of such unguarded tenderness that it stole the air from Ray's lungs. But it was the sheer vulnerability Nova displayed beside him—the boy who had vanished and broken her heart—that sent his mind reeling. This wasn't the posture of someone wary of a stranger. This was the trust of someone who had already let him back in.

He hadn't just shown up today,thats for sure.

Victor stirred on instinct . His eyes opened, meeting Ray's shocked gaze over Nova's sleeping form. He didn't jolt. He didn't let go of her hand. His only movement was a subtle, protective shift of his body.

Ray’s own gaze dropped to Nova. He had grown up with her. He knew the difference between a normal nap and the deep, exhausted sleep that came after her body had been pushed to its limit. This was the latter. A silent conversation passed between them.

Victor's steady gaze: She's safe. She's exhausted. Don't wake her.

Ray's slow, reluctant understanding, laced with new confusion:I see. I won't. But... how?

After assesing the room one more time, he saw the clothes Nova had worn earlier that day and the backpack and stuff Vera had taken-all recorded on the security footage- were on the group and and seeing the empty bowl and IV bandage on the night stand beside them he didn't know wheter to feel scared or realived.

Without a word, he took a sharp step back and pulled the door closed.

He walked back into the living room, sinking heavily into an armchair. "Okay," he said, his voice quiet.

"Start from the beginning. And I mean the real beginning. How did it all happen? When did he get back?"

So that's what they did.Vera started explaining everything to him(other than the things that definitely were not for Ray's ears yet.She stuck to the"family business and disagreements" plot) Starting from Victor's arrival two weeks ago,the tension,how she had kept two of the from seeing eachother, how that barrier had broken last night, against their better judgment. How the two of them were fine now. Or clearly more than fine. Vargas filled in the gaps where he could but went silent when she started explaining about today. Surprisingly Ray just listened most of it. Only interrupted her when it was necessary, asking more questions. 

Other than the seriousness and slight tension in the air, it was like tbeir usual hangouts-that had been rare lately since they were all busy.

At some point, Ray called their mom,reassuring her that Nova was okay and he was going to drive her home himself when they were ready to leave.

Then Vargas brought soda and snacks, passing them around and joking about some stuff here or there.

An hour and half later, the bedroom door creaked open. Victor emerged, looking more awake but still carrying the quiet weight of the day.

"She's awake," he said softly. "She's just getting her stuff."

Then his gaze found Ray's.

The air tightened. This wasn't just a reunion of old friends; it was the collision of two vastly different worlds. Ray, now a cop, stood with the posture of his training. Victor, the secret leader of a resistance cell, stood with a stillness that felt more dangerous than any movement. Ray didn't knew that,but their lifes had done some changes to their characters.

"I was not going to wake her. She needs every bit of rest she can get."

"I know" Ray stood up. "Though I should get her home now." He didn't move toward the door, his eyes pinning Victor in place. "But first, I need to know. Victor... why didn't she call us? Me, or our parents? Why you...? "

Victor met his gaze unflinchingly. "Because she's Nova," he said, his voice low. "She'll run herself into the ground for anyone else, but asking for help? Especially from her family? She'd rather collapse alone than feel like she's a burden or worry you. You know that."

"I do," Ray shot back, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. "But that doesn't explain why you were the one there. After two years of radio silence, you just happen to be back in town, ready to swoop in?" He took a half-step closer, his voice dropping, laced with a cop's suspicion. "What's your play here, Ashlin? Because from where I'm standing, this looks a little too convenient."

The accusation hung in the air. Vera and Vargas went still, watching the two of them in a tense standoff.

Victor didn't rise to the anger. Instead, a shadow of his old life—the calculating leader, not the art student—crossed his features. "There's no 'play,' Ray," he said, his tone chillingly even. "She called. I answered. That's it." He held Ray's suspicious stare, a silent challenge in his eyes. He couldn't explain the network of informants that had let him know she was in trouble, or the war he was fighting that made his return both necessary and dangerous. All he could offer was the raw truth of his devotion. "My only priority was her safety. It always will be."

Ray searched his face, looking for the boy he'd known in the man standing before him. He saw the same fierce protectiveness, but it was honed now, edged with a hardness he didn't recognize. The cop in him saw a puzzle. The brother in him saw the one person Nova had instinctively reached for in her worst moment.

The tension didn't dissolve, but it shifted. It was no longer about whether Victor was a threat, but about what he had become in the time he was gone.

"Just... be straight with me, Victor," Ray finally said, his voice weary. "No more disappearing acts. She can't handle it. None of us can."

Victor gave a single, solemn nod. "I'm not going anywhere."

It was a promise, and for the first time, Ray saw the sheer, unbreakable will behind it. It wasn't the reassurance he wanted, but it was the only one he was going to get. For now, it would have to be enough.

The bedroom door opened once more, fully, and Nova stepped out, now dressed and looking more composed, though the deep fatigue still shadowed her eyes. She stopped short, her gaze sweeping the living room. Seeing her brother standing there with Vera and Vargas—a familiar scene, yet one that felt suddenly different(especially with Victor in that frame after so long) —brought a flicker of confusion. Her mind, still slow from sleep and exhaustion, tried to piece together why he was here, in this apartment, at this moment.

Before the confusion could fully form, Ray's entire demeanor shifted the moment he saw her. The cop's suspicion vanished, replaced by pure, brotherly relief. A soft, fond smile broke through his stern expression.

"Hey there, shortie," he said, his voice warm as he closed the distance between them. "Feeling human again?"

The familiar, childhood nickname finally cut through her bewilderment. "Ray?" she said, her voice still hoarse. "What are you...?" She shook her head slightly, too tired to finish the question. "Getting there," she managed, offering him a small, tired smile.

Ray pulled her into a gentle hug. "You scared the daylights out of us, Nova!" he whispered to her. Nova returned the hug slowly, feeling guilty for not informing her family about her state earlier. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

 Over her shoulder, Ray's eyes met Victor's. It wasn't the hostile stare from moments before, but it was still measured, a silent acknowledgment that their conversation was merely paused, not over. But he was going to give him a chance.Cautiously.

"Let's get you home," Ray murmured to her, answering her unasked question.

Nova nodded, the pieces slowly falling into place. She then glanced back at Victor, her expression a mix of gratitude and lingering sleepiness. She would have hugged him tightly right there, but she could feel it wasn't the best time. She would make it up for him later. Maybe when another three pairs of eyes were not staring at them "I'll see you later?" she asked him, her voice soft.

Victor's expression softened completely. "I'll be here right here,sunshine" he promised.

As Ray guided her toward the door, helping with her stuff, Nova gave a small, tired sincer wave to Vera and Vargas. Victor watched them go, the apartment door clicking shut behind them.

The day was over, but the ripples were just beginning to spread.

Chapter Text

The car ride home was quiet, the engine's hum a feeble substitute for the conversation they weren't having. Nova leaned her head against the cool window, watching the familiar streets of her neighborhood slide by, each house a testament to a normalcy she felt was slipping through her fingers.

"We saw the security footage," Ray said finally, his voice a low, careful neutral that did little to mask his tension. "From this morning. Of Victor carrying you out of the house."

Nova closed her eyes, a fresh wave of fatigue and dread washing over her. "I see."

"Yeah." He let out a long, controlled breath, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "So, you want to explain that? And how, after two years of radio silence, he's not only back but he's your... boyfriend?" The word landed between them, heavy with disbelief and a brother's protective instinct. "Nova, that's less than twenty-four hours. How does that happen? How could you just forgive him and let him in like that?"

"It wasn't just a day, Ray," she said, turning to look at him, her expression earnest despite the deep weariness etched on her face. "It's not just about forgiving him. It's about understanding why he left. He told me last night that his family... it was dangerous for him to stay. He left because he thought it would protect both him and us. He was trying to keep his world from touching ours."

Ray's jaw tightened. "And you believe that excuse? Just like that?"

"It wasn't an excuse. I saw the truth of it in his eyes. And after today..." Her voice, though tired, grew stronger, iron-clad with conviction. "I was the one who called him, Ray. I was panicking, and I couldn't think of anyone else. He came. He carried me. He got me to the hospital and never left my side. He fought for me to make my trial. How can I hold on to anger at someone who literally picked me up when I was breaking? He proved everything with his actions today."

"But he's different," Ray insisted, his cop-honed instincts overriding the brother who had once called Victor a friend. "The Victor we knew was more laid-back. He had that artist mystery, sure, but he wasn't so... intense. This guy? There's an edge to him you could cut yourself on. He's harder."

"He's not different. Not in the ways that matter," Nova countered, her gaze unwavering. "He's just... Grown up. He has been through things he can't talk about, and it has made him stronger, sharper. But the core of him? The part that cares? That's still the Victor we know. I'm sure of it. I can see it, right there in his eyes, clearer than ever."

Ray fell silent, processing her words. He couldn't argue with the ferocity of her belief or the undeniable proof of Victor's devotion that day. The caution remained, a protective older brother and a trained officer's instinct, but it was now tempered with a dawning, reluctant respect. She wasn't being naive; she was seeing something in Victor that he, from the outside, couldn't yet fully perceive.

Besides, he and Victor had been close before he left. They'd been "buddies," a tight-knit crew with Vargas. A part of him, buried deep under his badge , ached for that easy friendship. He missed the stupid jokes with Vargas and the quiet understanding he'd shared with Victor. Seeing Victor now was like seeing a ghost of that old bond, and his conflict wasn't just for Nova's sake, but for his own. Could they ever get that back?

Pulling into the driveway of their family home felt like approaching a fortress. The warm, welcoming glow of the kitchen lights was a stark contrast to the chill of anticipation coiling in Nova's stomach.

Ray put the car in park but didn't immediately move. "Okay, look," he began, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial, big-brother tone. "You're wiped out. Here's the plan: you go straight upstairs and take a shower. Don't make eye contact, look pathetic—which, no offense, you kinda do. I'll run interference with Mom and Dad. I can give them the basics, get them off your back for tonight."

Nova was already shaking her head before he finished. "No."

Ray looked surprised, a flicker of hurt in his eyes. "Why? Nova, you look like you're about to fall over. Let me handle this. Why not? Don't you trust me to get it right?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, Ray," she said, her voice soft but unyielding. She met his gaze in the dim light of the car. "It's just... You heard the story from Vera's perspective. You'd narrate it through your own filter, with all your... cop instincts." She gave him a faint, knowing smile. "I don't want any more drama or misunderstandings. Not about this. Besides," she added, her voice firming with resolve, "I owe Mom and Dad a proper explanation too. They deserve to hear it from me. No more shadows."

Ray studied her for a long moment. He saw the fatigue, but he also saw the same unwavering determination that had just won her a mock trial against all odds. She wasn't hiding; she was facing her responsibility head-on, even when it was hard. He recognized that look. Arguing with it was pointless.

"Alright," he conceded, a hint of pride in his tone. "But I'm going in with you. For moral support. And if Dad starts doing his 'chief of police' stare, I'm causing a diversion. I'll fake a heart attack."

"Don't you dare. You'll just give Mom a real one," Nova replied, the familiar back-and-forth a small, steadying anchor in the turbulent night.

"Deal," he said. "Let's go get this over with. I'm right there with you."

Together, they stepped out of the car and into the lion's den.

Their mother, Eleanor, emerged from the kitchen, her face a canvas of relief and deep worry. "Nova! Thank goodness." She pulled her daughter into a tight, almost desperate hug. "We've been so worried. We didn't know what to think."

Chief Daniel Bright was not far behind, his presence immediately commanding the hallway. His sharp, assessing eyes went from Nova's pale, drawn face to Ray's carefully neutral one, searching for answers. "Ray said you were at the hospital," he stated, his voice deceptively calm, layered with the authority of his office. "What happened?"

"Let's sit down," Ray suggested, gently shepherding everyone toward the living room, trying to impose order on the emotional chaos.

Once settled on the plush sofa, Nova began, her voice softer than usual but clear and deliberate. "I had a severe stress reaction. My body just... shut down this morning. I fainted." She saw her mother's hand fly to her mouth and pressed on, needing to get the facts out. "A friend helped me and took me to the ER. They gave me IV fluids and medication. The doctor diagnosed it as an adrenal crash and said I need at least twenty-four to forty-eight hours of complete rest."

"And this friend," her father said, his gaze intense and unwavering. "The security footage showed a young man carrying you. We saw the... the hair." He gestured vaguely toward his own head, referencing the unmistakable dark strands with red streaks that were an Ashlin cousins trademark. "It looked like Victor, but that didn't make any sense. He's been away for two years. So who was it, Nova?"

Nova met her father's gaze, refusing to look away. "It was Victor, Dad. He's back."

The confirmation sent another, more potent wave of shock through the room. Her father's brow furrowed deeply, the inconsistency troubling his orderly, logical mind.

But it was Eleanor who spoke next, her voice softer, more contemplative and laced with a maternal concern that transcended suspicion. She had always held a special fondness for Victor, having seen firsthand the quiet, lonely boy who had so often stood up for Nova or patiently helped her with her art projects. "Victor?" she said, her worry momentarily eclipsed by a genuine care for him. "Is he... is he alright? Where has he been?"

"He's okay, Mom," Nova said, her heart warming at her mother's reaction. "And he's the reason I'm okay. He's the one who helped me.He looked after me all day, with Vera." She poured all her gratitude into the words, letting her parents see the profound truth of it.

Ray nodded in firm agreement from his seat beside her. "It's true. I saw him. He... he didn't leave her side. He was... solid."

"...TThey are also the reason I was even able to make it to my trial today," Nova continued, pulling her father's attention back to her. She held his gaze, allowing him to see the absolute conviction in her eyes. He seemed more skeptical than Ray and her mom, which was understandable. After all, he was a father and a chief of police. But after everything she had endured that day, she really didn't want her dad to challenge her with just a look. "I know this is a shock, but I am telling you the truth. He saved me today."

"And we are grateful for that," her father replied, his tone measured, analytical. "But that doesn't explain the nature of your relationship now. The footage... it looked more than just friendly, Nova. His expression... the way he carried you, the way he accessed our home... It showed a level of intimacy and familiarity that is inconsistent with someone who just returned after a two-year absence."

Nova took a sharp, steadying breath, her hands clenching slightly in her lap. This was the moment she had been dreading. "That's because it is. Victor isn't just a friend who helped me; he's.... my boyfriend now."

The word landed in the quiet, tense room with the force of a physical blow.

"Boyfriend?" her mother repeated, her eyes wide with sheer surprise. "Nova, honey, he just got back. How can that be? When did this happen?"

Her father's expression instantly hardened, the chief now fully in command, his paternal concern subsumed by professional suspicion. "That is exactly what I'm talking about! This is moving at an unbelievable, frankly alarming, pace. A young man with a complicated and opaque background disappears and reappears without explanation, and within twenty-four hours, he's not only back in your life but also your boyfriend? You’ll forgive me for being profoundly skeptical, Nova. The timeline and the circumstances are a cascade of red flags."

"It wasn't just a day, Dad!" Nova insisted, her voice firming despite the deep fatigue that threatened to pull her under. "The feelings were always there, you know that. I know things got complicated, but now he is back, and he is not going anywhere. We finally talked. He explained why he had to leave. He had his reasons, and they were about protecting his own future and the people he cares about." She looked at both of them, her frustration and exhaustion bubbling over. "And this—this right here—is exactly why I didn't tell you he was back for the last two weeks! I knew how it would look. I knew you'd see a red flag instead of a person. I needed to figure it out for myself, to understand why he left, without having to defend him to you before I even had the answers for myself!"

"Reasons he can't share with us, I assume?" Daniel countered, his gaze sharp and penetrating, seeing right to the heart of the mystery.

Nova struggled under the weight of his scrutiny, the silence that followed his question a confirmation in itself. This was precisely why she had hidden his return from them. They were trained to question, to see the worst in situations. But couldn't they just trust her judgment for once? She was twenty-one and a lawyer in training. A fully grown up adult?

Eleanor gently intervened, placing a calming hand on her husband's arm. "Dan," she said softly, her voice a balm on the rising tension. She then turned her gaze to Nova, and in her eyes was not just surprise, but a dawning understanding. She had seen the unspoken love between them for years, a constant, steady current beneath the surface of their friendship. Its sudden, open declaration was shocking, but it also made a heartbreaking kind of sense. It explained the depth of Nova's defense and the raw, unwavering intensity of Victor's protectiveness she'd seen in the footage. She was looking at her daughter not as a naive child, but as a woman who had fought for a truth she could believe in.

"Perhaps," Eleanor said, her voice firming with resolve, "the best way to ease everyone's minds is to see for ourselves. We should invite him for dinner soon. Let us get to know the man he’s become now that he's... officially so important to our daughter." She offered a small, conciliatory smile to Nova, a silent message of support.

Nova shot her a look of immense gratitude, feeling a knot in her chest loosen slightly.

Ray, who had been a silent observer, finally spoke, his tone pragmatic, cutting through the emotional stalemate. "It's the most logical next step. Clear the air."

Daniel looked from his wife's pleading, sensible face to his daughter's defiant, exhausted one, and finally to his son's resigned expression. He let out a long, weary sigh, the fight draining out of him as he rubbed his temple. The cop in him was screaming in protest, but the father could see he was outnumbered and that his daughter needed this, needed his effort, more than she needed his interrogation right now.

"Alright," he said, the word heavy with surrender and lingering concern. "Since it seems you have already sorted things out with him and you are sure about your decision, maybe we should meet him and get to know him properly this time—as your boyfriend." The way he said the word still made a shiver of apprehension run down Nova's spine, but it was a battle won. He then got up, signaling the end of the discussion. "That's enough for today. We can continue this later. You need to rest."

The fragile truce was sealed—a delicate balance in a world that had been tilted on its axis.

Under her mother’s gently persistent encouragement, Nova found herself ascending the stairs within moments, the promise of a hot shower the only coherent thought in her overwhelmed mind.

"Go on, take a long, hot shower," Eleanor coaxed, her voice tender yet firm. "It will soothe your aches. I'll bring up some tea before dinner. Your father and I... we just need to process."

Nova simply nodded; she didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, she knew Ray would be downstairs, filling the gaps for them in her absence. He might act like a tough, overprotective cop sometimes, but he was her brother first. No matter how much they bickered over unimportant stuff, she trusted him with her life. He would never do anything that would put her into real trouble or make this harder for her than it already was. That's why, despite everything, she loved him so much.

As the hot water enveloped her, it felt like a blessing, washing away the lingering scent of the hospital and the shivering dread that had clung to her all day. She stood under the spray until the steam filled the room, the heat gradually calming her racing heart and loosening the knots of tension in her shoulders. By the time she returned downstairs in soft, clean pajamas, the table was set with a quiet, deliberate care.

Dinner was a strained, silent affair. The weight of the unspoken lay over the meal like a shroud. Her father was lost in thought, his brow furrowed. Ray made clumsy attempts at small talk about work, trying to bridge an invisible gap. Her mother watched Nova with an anxious, hovering intensity, urging her to eat every bite of the soothing soup.

Finally excused, Nova retreated to the safe haven of her childhood bedroom. The moment her door clicked shut, the full emotional and physical toll of the day crashed over her like a wave. She sank onto the bed, burying her face in the familiar floral comforter, seeking its comforting scent.

In that quiet, vulnerable space, feeling both emotionally flayed and strangely supported, she finally reached for her phone. Just then, it lit up. As if it were on cue. Or more specifically, he was.

Victor: Made it home okay? ;-) 

Nova: Yes. It was… a lot. But I’m in one piece. I just survived a family discussion and...the aftermath of breaking the news about us.🤦🏻‍♀️

Nova:My mom suggested you come for dinner soon.

She held her breath after sending it. This wasn't just any invitation. The Brights had extended similar invitations countless times during high school—Thanksgiving, birthday barbecues, simple Sunday dinners. Each time, the Ashlin cousins had politely, mysteriously refused. Back then, Nova had felt hurt and confused, thinking they didn’t like her family. She had no concept of the terrifying aunt named Veronica pulling the strings from the shadows. She remembered one Thanksgiving, setting a place for him with a stupid, hopeful heart, only to get a text last-minute: 'Can't make it. Family stuff.' The empty chair had felt like a monument to his absence all night.

Now, her mother was asking again, and Nova was terrified he would say no. She feared that the painful wall of rejection would rise once more.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from the painful memory.

Victor: Dinner. With Chief Bright.

Victor:Should I bring my own lie detector test, or will he provide one?

A weak, watery laugh escaped her. He understood the present danger perfectly. But he hadn't answered the underlying question about his willingness to come.

Nova: He’s just protective. And you did carry his unconscious daughter out of his' perfectly secured house'. It raised a few questions.

Nova:My mom is on our side. I think. She remembers you.

Victor: I remember her too. She was always so sweet to us.

There was a pause. The three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Nova's heart hammered against her ribs. This was it—the moment he would gently, regretfully decline. He would give some vague excuse about being busy, and the old wound would reopen.

His final message came through.

Victor: Alright. I’ll face the inquisition. For you.

The relief was so profound it left her dizzy. It wasn't just a "yes." He wasn't just accepting a dinner invitation. He was finally choosing her and her family in a way he never could before. He was validating all those years of hurt and confusion with a single, simple agreement. He was stepping into the light, for her.

Nova: Thank you. For today. For everything. For this.

Victor: You don’t have to thank me. Get some rest, sunshine. I’ll be right here.

As she curled under the covers, the fear of her father's scrutiny was completely overshadowed by the staggering, hopeful weight of Victor's promise. He was finally coming to dinner.

The silence in the apartment was a physical weight. He stood in his bedroom doorway, staring at the unmade bed. Her pillow still held the faint impression where her head had lain just hours before. He could almost feel the ghost of her weight beside him, the memory of her curled against his side a stark contrast to the emptiness now filling the room.

That single image overshadowed everything else from the day: Nova in his arms, finally resting. Before that, there had been terror—her voice, small and scared on the phone. After, there had been fierce pride—watching her stand tall in the courthouse, a force of nature reclaiming her world. But here, in this quiet room, all that remained was the echo of the peace they’d found together.

He needed to hear her. Just a thread connecting them.

Victor: Made it home okay?

The reply came quickly, a relief. Then, the invitation.

Nova: My mom suggested you come for dinner soon.

Dinner. At the Brights' table. With the Police Chief. It was the one line he’d never crossed. A strategic nightmare. But the thought of her facing that storm alone was unthinkable.

Victor: Alright. I’ll face the inquisition. For you.

The decision was made. The line was crossed.

---

The buzz of his encrypted burner phone shattered the quiet. The man who’d promised to go to dinner vanished, replaced by the leader.

He found Vargas already in Vera's room, leaning against the doorframe, his usual easygoing demeanor absent. Inside, Vera sat before her laptop, the screen showing their cousin, Silas. He was in a dimly lit room, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Report," Vera said, her voice all business.

"The dock op is complete," Silas began, his voice a low, steady rush. "We hit the shipment just as it was being transferred from the freighter to a local distributor's truck. We used the EM pulse device Vargas built—shut down their entire comms and ignition systems for a five-minute window. My team swapped the cargo containers with identical ones filled with scrap metal. By the time their systems came back online, our boat was already in the channel. We scuttled the real container. Veronica's buyers will be receiving several tons of rusted machinery." A grim smile touched his lips. "Her credibility with that particular syndicate is now at the bottom of the sea."

"Clean?" Victor asked, stepping into the room.

"Clean enough. No direct engagement. But..." Silas's smile faded. "That's not the main issue. While I was monitoring their comms for the op, I caught a different thread. Inquiries. From a different branch of the network entirely. They were talking about you, Victor. Specifically about you being seen at the courthouse today with Nova. The description was detailed. The word is moving through the network. It's only a matter of time, maybe hours, before a formal report lands on Veronica's desk that her missing heir is not only back but publicly, and apparently intimately, linked to the police chief's daughter. Again. Already "

Vargas let out a low breath, running a hand through his hair. "So the dock op is a success, but we might have just lit a fuse on a much bigger bomb. If she finds out you're not only back but tied to Nova again...."

"Then Brights, and specifically Nova will become a primary target," Vera finished, her voice cold. "A way to get to us, to you, to control you, to punish you. We need to escalate her security. The two watchers on the Bright house aren't enough if the Eldress gets personally involved."

Victor's mind was already racing, the protective fury a cold fire in his veins. "Nova is a hard target nonetheless. " he stated, his voice low and analytical. "And not just because of our routine of basicaly not leaving her alone when she isn't with her family. Remember what she and Ray were like in high school? Their father didn't just give them the 'stranger danger' talk. He drilled them. Self-defense, situational awareness, basic firearms safety. Nova isn't a damsel. She's an unofficial cop herself with her intense training. She won't go down easy, and that makes her unpredictable for Veronica's usual thugs."

He looked at each of them, the strategist in him taking over. "Veronica won't try a simple grab. It will be something else. A 'car accident' that isn't an accident. A framed piece of evidence sent to her father. A 'tip' to the university about her association with criminal elements. And that's if we don't do something about it" He looked at each of them. "The watchers stay. They've been effective precisely because Chief Bright thinks they're his own patrols." This was the first time it was said aloud—the secret, invisible shield he had placed around Nova's family. "But I want a dedicated tail on Nova's family vehicles whenever she's in them without us. A buffer car, two blocks back. I don't care if Bright's patrols notice; let them think it's internal redundancy."

Silas nodded from the screen. "Understood. We'll make her a fortress without her ever knowing. But, Victor... this only works as a holding pattern. The longer this goes on, the more likely Veronica finds a crack. You know better than anyone how her brain works. "

"Then we don't give her the time," Victor said, his voice final. "We accelerate the timeline. The documentation is everything now. We need more than just shipping manifests. We need bank records, encrypted communications, a solid chain of evidence that links Veronica directly to the Fangs' operations. It has to be ironclad."

He paused, the next part the most difficult. "That evidence... it serves two purposes. When it's complete, we take it to the Chief. We bring down the whole syndicate from the outside. Just as we planned. But before that..." His jaw tightened. "I have to show it to Nova. She needs to see the truth. She needs to understand why before some edited version of it reaches her through her father or through... an incident."

The room was silent. They all understood the magnitude of that. Telling Nova was the single biggest risk to their operation, and to Victor's relationship. But he had made a promise. He had to trust her judgment.

"So, the plan is the same, but the timeline is accelerated," Vera summarized, her strategist's mind already recalibrating. "We continue the quiet sabotages to drain Veronica's resources, but our primary focus is the evidence file. We protect the Brights from the shadows, and we prepare for the moment Victor has to come clean to Nova."

"Exactly," Victor said. "We stay in the shadows until I can bring her into the light myself. On my terms."

"Understood. I'll inform the rest of the Ashes of the new changes in plans" Siles said before ending the call. 

The game had just begun and the Ashes were not the soldiers anymore and definitely not the losers this time. This game was going to end and he was gonna make sure of it. He was from the Eldress's blood line after all. 

Chapter Text

The frantic energy of the mock trial had faded, leaving a calm that felt both like a relief and, for Nova, strangely disorienting. The adrenaline that had sustained her through the hospital visits, the courthouse, and Victor’s constant, vigilant care had drained away, leaving her body exhausted and her mind peculiarly quiet. The landscape of her relationship with Victor had been irrevocably altered. They were no longer just best friends tentatively reuniting; they were now something new—boyfriend and girlfriend. The words echoed in the silence that stretched between them, an opening they had flung wide in a moment of urgent need, yet now it seemed to lead into a vast, uncharted space. The air between them was charged with new potential, both exhilarating and daunting.

For  a week, their routine became a study in careful, deliberate proximity. Victor and Vera would pull up to her house, and he would be out of the car in an instant, opening her door and scanning her face with a soft, diagnostic concern that had become as familiar as his smile. He would take her heavy law textbook bag from her shoulder, his quiet "I've got it" a constant, reassuring refrain that felt like more than just a comment on the weight of her books—it felt like a vow.

Their breaks were spent on their usual bench under the ancient, sprawling oak tree in the quad. Yet, a new, delicate space existed between them on the weathered wooden slats. The desperate, clinging touches of her recovery—his arms carrying her, his hands steadying her—had been necessary. They formed a physical language of pure need. But now, in the calm, Nova found herself hesitating. How could they bridge the gap from that to the easy, romantic intimacy the new label promised? How could they translate the grammar of crisis into the poetry of everyday love? Her courage, which had seen her through fainting spells and legal arguments, seemed to stall at the simple act of initiating more than hand-holding—a safe, familiar territory that now felt like a threshold she was acutely aware of, a line she wasn't sure how to cross without breaking the fragile newness of it all.

Victor, perceptive as ever, didn’t push. He seemed to understand the delicate negotiation happening in the space between their linked fingers. His presence was a steady, patient constant, but Nova sensed a subtle hesitation in him too—a conscious restraint in the way he held himself just an inch away, as if he were waiting for a signal from her, a flare sent up from the shores of her uncertainty, that it was safe for him to move closer and claim the space he clearly desired.

A week later, the rhythm of their new awkward routine broke into something different.

After her class ended, she stepped into the hallway, automatically scanning the crowd for his familiar tall frame and the tell-tale glint of cherry red in his hair. He wasn’t there. A flicker of worry, sharpened by the recent trauma of collapses and emergencies, ignited in her chest. Now, he was always there, a fixed point in her shifting world. Pushing the anxiety down, she decided to take action. This time, she would go to him.

The art studio was exactly as she had imagined it would be—a chaotic, beautiful mess, a symphony of creative anarchy. Canvases leaned against walls, splattered with the remnants of abandoned projects. The air was thick with the sharp, clean scent of turpentine and the earthy aroma of wet clay. And there he was, at the center of it all, but he wasn’t alone. Three girls from his class had him cornered near his easel, which held a stunning, half-finished portrait of a cityscape at night, filled with moody blues and brilliant, pinprick lights.

"Oh, Victor, the lighting here is just incredible!" one cooed, her voice like tinkling glass.

"How do you even get the perspective so perfect?"another asked, leaning far too close.

"You'll have to give me some private lessons sometime,"the third purred, her intention as subtle as a sledgehammer.

And there it was. A hot, sharp, entirely new sensation coiled in the pit of Nova's stomach, venomous and possessive. Jealousy. It was ugly and primal, and for a single, shocking second, it stole her breath and turned her hands cold. A visceral, territorial impulse screamed in her blood. Something she was sure she had never experienced before. Then again, she hadn't been in a relationship before, had she? She had avoided boys as much as she could(no matter how many tried to steal the"Golden girl's" heart. Those she especially despised) Her heart belonged to another before she knew.

But then, her training—both as a lawyer and as a human who knew Victor Ashlin better than anyone—kicked in. She looked past her own reaction and looked at him. Victor wasn't smiling his easy, laid-back, charming smile. He was offering a tight, polite grimace that didn't reach his eyes. His shoulders were tense, held high and tight near his ears. His answers were short, clipped, devoid of his usual playful wit. He kept glancing toward the door, his entire body angled away from them in a clear, universal signal of discomfort that they were either too oblivious or too determined to acknowledge. He wasn't enjoying the attention; he was enduring it. The jealousy evaporated as quickly as it had come, replaced by a wave of fierce protectiveness and a deep, aching sympathy. Her boyfriend was trapped, and he was too polite, or too wary of causing a scene, to simply walk away. And normally, it was she who was to fulfill those roles, but today, they clearly needed to switch roles. If she needed to cross her limitation just a little, let it be for him.

Nova squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and walked into the studio, her steps confident and quiet on the concrete floor. She didn't look at the girls. She walked straight to Victor, her gaze locked on his, a lifeline thrown across a crowded room.

The moment he saw her, his eyes—which had been shadowed with a pained impatience—widened slightly. Then, they filled with a dawning, profound understanding and a pure, unadulterated relief that was so raw it was almost painful to witness.

"Sorry I'm late, babe," she said, her voice sweet and clear, cutting through the shrill chorus. Without a hint of hesitation, a move that felt both terrifying and utterly right, she rose onto her toes and pressed a soft, quick, but definitive kiss to his cheek. "My professor wouldn't stop talking. Ready to go?"

She felt the fine tremor that went through him at the contact, a jolt of surprise that was instantly mastered. He recovered in a heartbeat, his actor's instincts and his genuine delight merging seamlessly. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her snugly against his side, his hand splaying possessively on her hip. "Always waiting for you, sunshine," he said, his voice dropping into that low, intimate, gravelly register he seemingly used only for her, a sound that never failed to send a shiver down her spine. He turned back to the stunned girls, his polite mask now replaced by a genuine, relaxed smile that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. "Ladies, you'll have to excuse us. My girlfriend and I have a bench to occupy."

The girls' flirty smiles faltered, replaced by looks of sharp disappointment. They mumbled their goodbyes and quickly dispersed, the spell broken.

The moment they were alone in the quiet of the hallway, the confident posture Victor had held for the performance sagged just a fraction. He brought his free hand up to massage his temple, his fingers pressing hard into the skin, and a faint, pained grimace crossed his features.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice now laced with a weariness and a gratitude that went infinitely deeper than the simple rescue from a social inconvenience. "I really needed that. I owe you one."

Nova’s smirk softened into a knowing, tender smile. She squeezed the hand that still rested on her hip. "We're even," she said, her tone light but her meaning profound. "After your constant, looming presence at the trial, and seeing you shadow me to every single class this week like a very handsome, very dedicated secret service agent, I'm pretty sure every boy on campus thinks I'm dating a secretly terrifying bodyguard. They've all backed off. Nothing else I had tried without making a scene had worked to shoo them away like that. "

A weak, genuine chuckle escaped him, though it seemed to cost him effort. "Good," he said, his voice rough. "That was the plan." But as they stepped out from the building's shadow onto the sun-drenched quad, he flinched, his whole body recoiling as a shaft of unfiltered afternoon sunlight struck his eyes like a physical blow. By the time they had crossed the lawn and reached the shaded sanctuary of their bench, he was leaning into her side more heavily, his shoulder a solid, seeking weight against hers, as if drawn by a magnetic pull to her stability.

"Your head is worse than you let on, isn't it?" Nova asked, her tone gentle but firm, leaving no room for a charming deflection.

He let out a long, slow breath, the sound of surrender. "Just a minor headache. Didn't sleep well," he admitted vaguely, but the words were rendered meaningless by the way his head drooped, his temple coming to rest heavily against the curve of her shoulder. The trust in that simple, weary gesture—the complete surrender of his pain to her care—sent a wave of such tenderness through her that it threatened to buckle her knees.

She guided him to sit on the bench and immediately rummaged in her own bag—the one he hadn't been carrying—her movements efficient. She produced a cold water bottle and a small, container of painkillers. "Here."

He lifted his head just enough to look at the two white pills sitting in the center of her palm. His eyes, usually so bright and warm with artistic curiosity, were shadowed with pain, but the look he gave her was unbearably soft, full of a wonder that he was being cared for like this, that someone was looking out for him. "You just carry these around?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"For emergencies," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And you, using my shoulder as a pillow, definitely qualify." She watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed the pills, her gaze fixed on the strained, tired line of his jaw. Even in the dappled shade of their tree, the light was clearly too much; he squeezed his eyes shut against it, his body held in a rigid line of suffering.

The medicine was a future promise of relief. What he needed was peace, right now.

"Come here," she murmured, the words a soft command, an invitation to let go completely. She shifted on the wooden slats, turning her body to create a harbor for him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, a slight, guiding pressure, and he followed without a shred of resistance, his body yielding to her lead with a trust that was absolute. He slid down, and his head found its true, intended refuge in the softness of her lap. A shuddering breath, the sound of a man laying down a heavy burden, escaped him as he immediately turned his face inward, burrowing his cheek against the soft denim of her jeans, seeking darkness, quiet, and the familiar, calming scent of her.

Nova leaned over him, her back curving, her form becoming a living shelter, her head and shoulders blocking the slivers of intrusive light. Her left hand rose, and her fingers, cool and gentle, began their work. They first traced the sensitive shell of his ear, a feather-light touch, then slid into the soft, messy strands of his hair. Her fingertips sought out the knots of tension she knew were coiled there, pressing in slow, deliberate, counter-clockwise circles against his scalp, finding the tight cords at the base of his skull and working them with a firm, knowing pressure.

Her right hand settled on his chest, her palm laying flat and sure over the steady, strong beat of his heart. She could feel it thumping against her hand, a rhythm that was becoming as familiar and essential as her own.

For a long, suspended moment, they were perfectly still, a sculpture of care and trust. Then, Victor’s hand—the one that had been lying limp at his side—stirred. He didn't grab or grasp with any urgency. He simply lifted it, a slow, deliberate movement, and laid it over hers, his palm covering the back of her hand completely, his long, artist's fingers slotting between hers in a loose, yet possessive, weave. He held her hand to his heart, a silent, profound affirmation that spoke more than any love letter ever could: You are my anchor. This is where you belong. This is home.

A deep, quiet sigh escaped him, the last vestiges of rigidness melting from his frame. He was growing heavy and pliant in her lap, the weight of him a comfort. Her left hand continued its soothing rhythm, her fingers now gently combing through his hair, occasionally scratching his scalp lightly in an instinctual, nurturing gesture she didn't even have to think about.

As she moved, the ends of her down hair, freed from its usual braid, swung forward like a silken curtain. They brushed against his forehead, his closed eyelids, and the bridge of his nose with every slight shift of her body, a soft, intermittent caress.

His voice, when it came, was thick with impending sleep, a drowsy murmur vibrated against her leg. "Your hair..."

Nova’s fingers stilled for a heartbeat, her whole world narrowing to the sound of his sleep-roughened voice. "Hmm?"

"It's gotten so long," he breathed, his eyes still closed. A faint, blissful smile touched his lips as the silky tips tickled his skin. "So soft... I like it. Especially when it's down"

The comment was simple and full of unguarded wonder, and it made her feel completely exposed. She looked down and took in the scene: his head resting in her lap, his hand gently grasping hers over his heart, and his face finally relaxed, free from pain. He trusted her with his suffering, his rest, and his very self.

"Then maybe I shall leave it down more." She softly replied

He managed to crack his eyes open, just a sliver. The pain was receding, replaced by a dazed, wondrous warmth as he gazed up at her. The sight of her kind smile, haloed by the afternoon sun, seemed to strike him with its own gentle force. He wasn't quoting a song. He was composing one, the words falling from him like a truth he was only just discovering.

"Your smile..." he breathed, his voice barely audible, yet perfectly rhythmic. "It shines even brighter... than I've had it in my head."

The words hung in the air, simple and profound. They felt less like speech and more like the first line of a verse waiting to be completed. A slow, wondering smile touched Nova's lips, and the answer rose in her, not as a memory, but as a feeling finding its form. Her voice, a soft, melodic whisper, wove the next thread.

"And we're from two worlds apart... but still, there's a common thread."

It was true. His world of shadows and art, hers of law and light—the thread was this, the trust humming between them right now.

Victor’s eyes drifted shut again, but his smile widened, a true, unguarded expression of pure joy. He squeezed her hand lightly, his own voice a sleepy, heartfelt rumble as he found the next line, the melody unfolding between them as naturally as breathing.

"Good to see you crystal clear... I had been dreaming... Now you're here." He took a slow, deep breath, his body fully surrendering to rest and her care. "It's you, yeah..."

Nova felt the truth of it settle deep in her soul. They were creating something new, a private anthem spun from starlight and shared silence. She leaned down, her lips brushing his forehead in the faintest of kisses, her whisper the final, perfect note.

"Yeah... it's you, yeah."

And in the quiet that followed, the impromptu song lingered, a sacred thing they had built together in the space of a single minute. The world outside—flirty girls, dangerous secrets, and the pressures of the future—faded into a background noise. This peaceful moment under a tree on a sunny afternoon was the only reality that mattered. It felt surreal, like a perfect dream made from trust and tenderness and a shared melody.

For Victor, drifting in and out of sleep, he felt the same way. The pain in his head faded not because of the medicine, but because of the rhythm of her breathing above him, the scent of her skin nearby, the gentle pull of her fingers in his hair, and her soft touch. It was like a lullaby made up of everything that was her, culminating in the song they had just spun from their hearts. Held in the comfort of her lap, the leader of the Ashes, the boy from the shadows, let go of everything and simply slept, feeling safer than he ever had before.

The last lingering ghost of awkwardness between them vanished under that oak tree, washed away by the shared, spontaneous melody and the profound peace of his sleep in her lap. From that day on, their physical connection became as effortless and essential as their conversation. The careful, measured distance was gone, replaced by a gravitational pull they no longer resisted.

Now, when Victor and Vera pulled up to her house, his greeting was no longer a hesitant smile from the driver's seat. He was out of the car, meeting her on the path, his "Good morning, sunshine" accompanied by a quick, smiling kiss to her cheek that tasted of coffee and uncomplicated joy. They walked across campus not just side-by-side, but woven together—his arm slung comfortably over her shoulders, her arm wrapped around his waist, her head leaning against the solid strength of his arm. The bench remained their sanctuary, but its dimensions were now defined by their closeness.

Whether Vera was with them, engrossed in a criminology text, or it was just the two of them, their bodies naturally sought each other. If they were studying, Nova’s shoulder would be a steady support for Victor’s head as he sketched. If they were simply talking, his arm would be draped around her, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her arm. On days when the weight of her studies or the lingering echoes of her condition left her drained, it was she who would curl up, her head in his lap, his sketchbook abandoned in favor of gently braiding her long, soft hair. And on the days when the shadows behind his eyes grew too dark, he would find his rest there again, her hand on his chest, her presence his only needed solace.

It was no longer a question or a conscious act. It was simply their truth, the final, seamless unfolding of their love. They were two separate beings who functioned best when intertwined, their love a quiet, constant comfort in the middle of a bustling campus, a fortress built not of stone, but of trust, of melody, and of touch.

Chapter Text

The whispers in the hallways of Seabrook College had become a permanent background noise, a bizarre echo of the past.

"He just got here, how can they be so in love like that? It's definitely an act."

"Bright is dating that hot boy?The way she pushed all the boys away, I was expecting a true shining armor or stay single for ever." / "He sorta is a shining armor, haven't you seen how he takes care of her?"

"My brother says he's known them since high school...half the class was expecting them to announce their relationship back then, not now."

"But that makes no sense, he came here two weeks before the trail, and im pretty sure noone had seen them intracting,not to mention he's Vera's cousin"

"...suddenly he appeared at the trial and Nova said he's her boyfriend."

"I later saw them on the bench under the oak tree,it was so romantic."

It was astounding how, even in college, some people lacked the basic ability to mind their own business. The gossip was different now—less suspicious, more awestruck—but the sheer volume of it was just as exhausting as it had been in high school. A part of her, a part she was deeply ashamed of, wished in these moments that she wasn't a Bright, or the "golden student" of the law department. The spotlight that came with her name was a prison, every move she made becoming public domain.

But as she sat in her room on Sunday evening, the gossip was a distant annoyance. The real storm was brewing downstairs, set to arrive in exactly one hour.

It was difficult to say who was comforting whom. They’d fallen into an unspoken, sarcastic routine over the past week. On even days, she was the one assuring him that her family wasn't rabid dogs who would bite him just for being her boyfriend (hopefully), and that he just needed to be the Victor she’d known for years.

On odd days, he was the picture of relaxed confidence, telling her not to worry, that he could charm his way through any sensitive conversation and was looking forward to proving he could pass her dad's "lie detector test" with flying colors.

It was a good thing the dinner was on a Sunday—an odd day. So, theoretically, he was the calm one tonight. Theoretically, he was doing better than she was right now.

Nova let out a shaky breath, staring at her reflection. The sarcastic little game wasn't working. The knot in her stomach was tight enough to crack walnuts. He could play the confident charmer all he wanted, but she knew him. She knew the subtle tension in his jaw that betrayed his own anxiety. His "odd day" bravado was for her benefit, a shield he was holding up so she wouldn't see how much this truly meant to him—and how terrified he was of losing it.

She jumped as her phone buzzed on the dresser.

Victor: Just left the apartment. Vargas’s final advice was to ‘accidentally’ call your dad ‘sir’ the whole night. Vera said if I do that, she’ll disown me. Wish me luck.

A weak laugh escaped her. Even now, he was trying to make her smile. She typed back, her fingers trembling slightly.

Nova: Just be yourself. That’s all they need. And for the record… It's the only thing I need, too. See you soon.

She hit send, the message carrying a prayer with it. Please, she thought, just let them see the you that I see.

Taking a deep breath, she headed downstairs to the kitchen, where the warm, savory scent of roasting herbs did little to calm the underlying tension. Her mother, Eleanor, stood at the stove, stirring a simmering sauce with a calm that felt both reassuring and alien.

"You do realize," Eleanor began, not looking up from the pot, "that if you two act any differently than the way you've always been around each other, your dad is going to smell it from a mile away. He's got a sixth sense for performance."

Nova’s shoulders, already tight, crept higher. She moved to the counter and picked up a carrot and a knife, needing something to do with her hands. "Well then, it's a good thing we are not planning to pull any act," she said, the thwack of the blade hitting the board a little too forceful.

“Why are you so nervous, sweetheart?” Eleanor asked gently, turning to face her daughter. “You’re shredding that carrot into pieces.” She leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I won’t lie, Nova. It seems things are moving quickly. He shows up, and within weeks, he’s your boyfriend and coming for dinner. Any parent would worry about that pace.”

Nova dropped the knife loudly. “I know how it looks,” she said, her voice tight with frustration. “But it’s not fast; it’s late. We’re years late.” She sank into a kitchen chair, her body folding in. “And now Dad is on guard all week like he’s going to catch a thief! The ‘Chief Bright’ act is in full swing, and it’s just... a lot.”

Eleanor smirked playfully. “That’s true, in a way. That boy has definitely stolen his daughter’s heart. And what do cops do with thieves?”

“Mom!” Nova complained, resting her head in her hands. “You’re not helping!”

Seeing her daughter’s distress, Eleanor softened her expression. She wiped her hands and walked over, sitting in front of Nova. Gently, she lifted Nova’s chin.

“Sweetheart, look at me. I understand that it worries any parent, and it worried me for a moment. But then I thought about it.” Her voice was low and sincere. “You’re twenty-one, and we noticed you hadn’t shown interest in anyone before. We were starting to worry that there was no good man for you. And I had my suspicions. From what I remember, Victor was like that.”

Nova’s wide, watery eyes met her mother’s. “Vera swears he hasn’t paid proper attention to any other girl since high school,” she whispered. “She grew up with him and knows him better than anyone. Plus, you know how serious she is about things like this.”

“Yes, I do. I trust her judgment as much as I trust yours.” Eleanor squeezed her daughter’s hand. “That’s my point.” She paused, her gaze steady. “You’ve been happier and more grounded these past weeks than I’ve seen you in years. I know your feelings are real and genuine. I raised you to be kind yet sharp and strong, both physically and mentally, and I’m so proud of who you have become. The fact that both you and Victor have remained true to your feelings for each other, even when things weren’t official and he was away, speaks volumes more than any timeline.”

Just then, they heard a floorboard creak from the hallway. Both women turned their heads to see Ray leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking. “Yeah, it says they’re both unbelievably stubborn and silly,” he said, clearly eavesdropping.

Nova’s sweet expression shifted to sisterly annoyance. She shot her mother an apologetic look. “Sorry, one second. I warned him this would happen.”

Before Ray could react, Nova stood up. She marched over to him and gently grabbed his ear—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her point.

“Ow! Hey! I was just—” he protested.

“I said no eavesdropping, idiot!” Nova hissed, pulling him away from the door and down the hall, his protests fading as they turned the corner.

A moment later, she returned to the kitchen, feigning to dust her hands, as if finishing a messy job. “Done,” she announced, a spark of her usual spirit back in her eyes. She gave her laughing mother a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that.”

Eleanor shook her head, her laughter softening, but a hint of deeper emotion flickered in her eyes. “It’s alright. It’s good to see some things never change,” she said quietly, glancing from Nova to the spot where Ray had disappeared. “Watching your children grow up and step into their own lives is a profoundly beautiful experience, but it also carries a bittersweet weight. It can be both heartwarming and a little heartbreaking to see them take on new responsibilities. At the same time, it can feel daunting knowing that the outside world can be challenging and sometimes dangerous. As parents, the thought of not being there for them as much as we once were can bring a deep sense of worry, especially when it comes to their safety and well-being. It's the greatest, most profound weakness a parent can ever know."

Nova’s playful demeanor vanished, her heart clenching at the raw honesty in her mother's tone. She crossed the room and knelt beside her mother's chair, taking her hands. "Mom," she said, her voice thick with sudden emotion. "We're not going anywhere any time soon. Don't put it that way, you're going to make me cry." She squeezed her hands, offering a wobbly, tearful smile. "I promise you, Ray and I will never grow up and we might still be right here, still acting like annoying children when we're seventy and seventy-two. We'll probably still be biting each other's heads off and giving you a headache over Sunday dinner. If that satisfies your worries."

Eleanor let out a watery laugh, blinking back her own tears as she cupped Nova's cheek. "It does, my starlight. It does."

She took a steadying breath, her expression firming back into its warm, resilient strength. "But my point is, Nova," she continued, her gaze locking with her daughter's once more, "as your parents, our only job is to ensure the future you've worked so hard to build—a future in law, in justice—remains bright. A supportive, loving, and strong partner is an essential part of that foundation. We just want to be sure he can be that for you."

She reached out, tucking a strand of Nova's hair behind her ear, her touch infinitely comforting. "But at the end of the day," she concluded, her voice full of unwavering support, "the decision is always yours, my dear. It's your heart. We just want to meet the young man who's finally earned your trust."

Eleanor gave Nova’s hands one final, reassuring squeeze before letting go. "Now," she said, her voice shifting back to its usual warm, practical tone as she stood up. "You should go get changed. He's going to be here soon."

The spell of the heartfelt moment broke, replaced by a fresh flutter of nerves. The reality of the evening came rushing back. Nova nodded, taking a steadying breath.

"You're right," she said, pushing herself up from the floor. She cast one last, slightly terrified look at her mother, who responded with an encouraging nod.

As Nova turned to leave the kitchen, Eleanor called out softly after her, "And Nova? Try to relax your shoulders. You look like you're marching into a courtroom, not a dinner."

Nova managed a weak smile over her shoulder before hurrying up the stairs, her heart beginning to beat a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The clock was ticking. In mere minutes, the doorbell would ring, and the inquisition would begin.

The walk from his car to the Brights' front door felt like the longest twenty steps of Victor Ashlin’s life. Each step on the smooth path seemed like he was heading toward an awkward showdown filled with small talk and probing looks. In his hands, he gripped his peace offerings—a bouquet of cheerful white daisies, simple and genuine, since anything fancier, like roses, felt way too intense. And apparently, Nova's mom is a favorite.

When he rang the bell, the sound echoed in the quiet evening, almost like an ominous toll.

The door swung open, and for that one breathless moment, everything felt right again. There she was. His ray of sunshine. Clad in a soft cream sweater and black jeans, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders in waterfall style —just for him, a tiny voice in his head whispered. She barely had any makeup on, confident in her natural beauty in a way that always took his breath away. And there it was, the polymer 'N' necklace he’d carefully made for her years ago, resting against her cozy sweater. Seeing it, worn so proudly, eased his jangling nerves. It was like a little flag signaling her loyalty.

"Hey," she greeted him, her smile a bit uneasy, those ocean-blue eyes mirroring his own jitters.

"Hey, sunshine," he replied, relieved that his voice came out steady.

They moved in a familiar, almost instinctive rhythm like they were seasoned partners. A quick, tight hug that felt more like a comforting exchange than anything romantic. Then, a fast peck on each other’s cheeks—a casual, familial greeting that hinted at something deeper, like a shared secret. It lasted barely a second, but it grounded him.

She stepped aside, and he walked into the lion's den.

Eleanor Bright was the first to come over, her expression friendly but sharp. "Victor, it's so good to see you again," she said, her voice as kind as he remembered. She accepted the daisies with a genuine smile. "Oh, these are lovely. You shouldn't have."

"It's my pleasure, Mrs. Bright. Thanks for having me," he replied, the words rolling off his tongue like a rehearsed script. He handed her the wine next. "Just a little something."

"Please, I told you to call me Eleanor ages ago. This is wonderful, thank you."

Then she did something that completely caught him off guard. She stepped closer and pulled him into a brief, firm hug that felt motherly. It wasn't the clingy hug from Nova before; this was warm and simple, filled with an affection he realized he hadn’t felt from a mother figure in almost twenty years. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough to make him feel a little unsteady.

"Welcome back, Victor," she whispered just for him before letting go.

Well, now he knew where Nova got her endless kindness from.

As she pulled away, the man himself appeared from the living room. Chief Daniel Bright. He didn't dominate the space, but somehow, he filled it completely, drawing in all the attention. His gaze was calm and sharp, like he was analyzing everything.

Victor’s instincts told him to stand at attention. He forced himself to stay relaxed and extended his hand. "Chief Bright," he said, meeting the man's stare head-on. "Good to see you again, sir. Thanks for the invite."

The Chief’s handshake was firm, professional, and quick—more like an assessment than a welcome. "Victor," he acknowledged, his tone even. "We’ll see."

Then, a familiar, teasing voice broke the tension from the hallway. "Took you long enough to ring the bell. I thought you'd run away again."

Victor turned his head, a tired but genuine smirk on his lips. Ray stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he had the older-brother-knows-best vibe down to a science.

"Ray," Victor started, a playful challenge in his eyes. "You still remember this? Or now, it goes beyond your officer oath? " He initiated their complicated handshake.

Ray’s eyes sparkled, not missing a beat as he jumped into the next move. "I still run through it with Vargas sometimes. Can't say the same for the ‘outcast Dracula’ over here." His grip tightened in the final clasp, a silent challenge. "And my oath as an officer practically demands I arrest you for that terrible hairstyle. Trying to look like a tortured artist?"

Victor met the pressure with a competitive smirk. "It’s called having style, something you’d know nothing about in that uniform." He finally pulled his hand back, flexing his fingers a bit. "Feels like those desk jobs are softening you up, Ray."

"Please," Ray scoffed. "I could still take you in under ten seconds in an arm wrestle. Just like old times."

"Old times?" Victor laughed. "You mean the one time you won because you slicked the table? I remember that. I also remember who held the record on the pull-up bar after you bet a week’s lunch money."

Ray grinned genuinely, the competitive spark in his eyes. "Yeah, and I remember who had to sneak you into the gym after hours for a month because you were so obsessed with that record you wore out your own membership.”

The memory, a lighthearted piece of their shared past, hung in the air. Victor felt a wave of nostalgia, but he quickly tempered it with caution. He couldn’t let himself look too strong or too skilled. He relaxed his posture just a bit, admitting defeat. “A bet’s a bet. You got your lunches.”

“Damn right I did,” Ray said, taking advantage of Victor’s subtle surrender. He stepped in, threw Victor into a playful headlock, and with a grunt, shoved him back onto the couch.

Victor went down easily, the comfy cushions catching him with a soft thud. He landed with an exaggerated groan, playing up the loss. “Alright, alright! You win.”

Ray, standing proudly over the couch, finally let up. He looked down at Victor, who was dramatically fluffing the pillows around him, and a smirk crept onto his face. He reached out a hand. 

“Come on, you big baby. Get up before you wreck the cushions.”

Victor glanced at the hand and then back at Ray’s smug face. The tension from earlier faded, replaced by the easy banter they always shared since childhood. He took Ray’s hand and let himself be pulled upright.

Nova stood nearby, shaking her head, a mix of fond exasperation and a playful grin on her face as she chimed in. “Don’t break anything, you two. You’re both too old for time-outs! And I can’t defend both of you in front of Mom’s judgmental gaze!”

Her heart swelled with warmth seeing them like this—Victor and Ray slipping back into their old groove like the tough years never happened. It felt like a missing piece of her world clicking back into place. She turned away, hiding her big smile while straightening a cushion on the armchair.

Eleanor’s voice, warm and practical, called out from the kitchen. “Nova, Ray, could you two come help me set the table?”

“Coming, Mom!” Nova yelled back, throwing a last, secret smile at Victor before heading toward the dining room.

Ray grunted in acknowledgment and followed her.

Without hesitation, Victor fell in step beside them. As they entered the cozy, herb-scented kitchen, he started rolling up his sweater sleeves, a casual move he made without thinking, just eager to help.

And there it was.

As the soft gray wool pushed up past his elbow, it revealed a pale, jagged scar running down over half his left forearm. It was old and healed, but its brutal history was hard to miss. To Nova and Ray, it was familiar—a part of his complicated life they’d learned to accept ages ago. But in the bright kitchen light, it looked different, almost out of place. This was no typical artist's accident or slip of a blade; it was something much darker.

He grabbed the hot pad from Eleanor, completely unaware of the scar he had just revealed.

“Ray, why don’t you and Victor bring the serving dishes to the table? Nova, you can take care of setting the places,” Eleanor instructed.

“Sure thing,” Ray replied, his eyes flicking to the scar for a split second before grabbing his own hot pad. To him, it seemed so normal it barely registered.

Victor moved efficiently, almost surprisingly so for a guest, finding his way in the kitchen routine. He followed Ray’s lead, carefully carrying heavy dishes from the counter to the big wooden dining table, his steady movements contrasting with the pale line on his arm.

Nova moved through the kitchen, effortlessly arranging plates and silverware, her heart swelling at the sight of Victor blending into the pulse of her family and how they stole glances and warm smiles moving around.

 He wasn’t just an outsider trying to impress them; he genuinely contributed, making the atmosphere feel natural.

From his perch in the living room, Chief Daniel Bright had a front-row seat to the unfolding scene. His book lay forgotten in his lap as his keen eyes honed in on a detail that caught his attention—the scar. To him, it was more than just a mark; it told a story. He assessed its nature and the likely cause—a blade, not mere clumsiness. He noted the way Victor navigated the room, his demeanor calm, as if the scar were merely an extension of himself. He could see how easily his children accepted Victor, as if his past held no weight.

To them, he was simply a friend; to the Chief, he represented a puzzle piece in a larger, unsettling picture. A young man, returning after two years, moving with an unsettling poise and eagerness to help, stirred suspicion. Rather than mere comfort, this was the calm of someone familiar with navigating danger.

The inquiry had shifted from the doorway to the dinner table, and the Chief's suspicions now had solid ground. He was no longer just observing a boy; he was profiling an individual adept at playing a role, one whose history bore the marks of violence that could not easily fade.

Chapter Text

The Bright family dining table, usually a spot for lively chaos, felt more like a serious meeting. Daniel sat at the head, observing Victor like a king sizing up a diplomat. Victor was positioned right next to Nova, making him the focal point for Daniel, while Elanor, the experienced peacekeeper, sat to Daniel’s right and Ray hung out at the end of the table, his expression unreadable.

The first course turned into a dance of polite, probing questions.

“Art school is pretty competitive, Victor,” Daniel started, keeping his tone neutral. “What’s your long-term plan? Freelancing can be a bit hit or miss.”

Victor paused to meet Daniel’s gaze, putting his fork down. “Yeah, it is. I’m focusing on building a solid digital portfolio and networking with galleries both here and in Silveria. The plan is to establish a stable life in Seabrook.” His reply came off as mature, direct, and right on the mark.

Nova was tense, her food still untouched.

The mood lightened a little when Ray shifted gears. “Sure, sure, future plans, but more importantly, are you still a nightmare to play Monopoly against? I’m still mad about that Boardwalk heist in senior year.”

Victor’s shoulders relaxed. “Not my fault you have a tell. You totally twitch in your eye.”

“I do not!”

“He absolutely does,” Nova jumped in, happy to throw in a bit of nostalgia. “Victor used that to win every poker game we ever had.”

A real laugh shared between them eased the atmosphere. Daniel observed, noting the slight softening in his own posture.

In a lull, Nova noticed something. Victor’s left hand was resting on his thigh under the table, fingers clenched in a tight fist. The pressure of keeping it together was clear in the tension of his hand.

Without saying a word, Nova let her right hand slip below the table. She covered his fist with her palm, gently coaxing his fingers open until they interlaced with hers. Victor’s breath caught, and while he didn’t look at her, the tension in his hand faded immediately. He gave her fingers a soft, grateful squeeze—a silent acknowledgment—before reaching for his fork again. For them, that hidden moment felt like a fortress.

After the main course, as they started clearing the table, the vibe had genuinely lightened up. Victor, feeling more relaxed, stood to help out. He gathered plates with one hand, and as he leaned over to grab a serving platter, the sleeve of his sweater slid up his forearm.

Daniel’s gaze, which had softened somewhat, instantly sharpened as he spotted the pale, jagged line now visible. He didn’t say anything, just took a mental note.

Once they settled in the living room over coffee and Elanor's famous apple pie, the last wave of change began to unfold. Nova, curled up on the sofa, instinctively leaned her head on Victor's shoulder. His arm came around her without thinking, resting comfortably on her arm. This effortless act of comfort spoke volumes about their connection.

Seeing them like this, Elanor decided to make a lasting memory of the moment. “You know, Victor,” she said, wearing a warm smile. “Hearing how you helped Nova with her mock trial… it took me back to the first time I met you. In Principal Martinez’s office, you stood your ground against that awful Leo Withlock’s dad. You defended her back then, just like you did recently.”

She looked directly at him, her gaze softening. “I knew right then you had a good heart. I’ve never had any reason to change my mind.”

Victor looked genuinely touched, her words seemingly settling an old ache inside him. “Thank you, Elanor,” he replied, his voice thick with sincerity. “That really means a lot.”

Just then, Ray, feeling the good vibe, jumped up to act out a questionable basketball play from his last game. As he spun around, his elbow knocked a heavy crystal vase off the side table, sending it crashing right towards Nova's head.

The reaction was immediate. No gasp, no dramatic shout. In a blur of quick motion, Victor's left arm shot out. He grabbed the vase from the air just inches from Nova's face, his body shifting to create a shield between her and the falling object. It all happened so fast it felt almost unreal, yet he set the vase down on the coffee table with a soft, careful clink.

The room went silent for three full seconds.

"You good, sunshine?" Victor asked, his voice calm and low, his eyes locked onto Nova's startled expression. The tense vibe that had wrapped around him disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving him relaxed again.

"Yeah, I...I'm okay. Thanks"

Ray was in full apology mode. “Whoa! Sorry! I’m so sorry, Nova!”

Elanor let out a sigh of relief, hand over her heart. “Goodness, Ray, be careful!”

Daniel didn’t say a word. He stood still, his keen eyes taking in everything: the sheer speed, the fluid motion, and how Victor put Nova’s safety first. It wasn’t just instinct; it was second nature. He watched Victor, who was now reassuring a flustered Ray, and a mix of respect settled in his chest. The kid was anything but a simple artist, that's for sure. That second nature only comes with practice.

Later, while the news played softly in the background, a segment about the police dealing with organized crime in Shadyside caught Daniel's attention. He used his coffee cup to gesture.

“Seriously tough,” he commented, keeping his tone neutral. “The city would probably be better off if they just took each other out. It would definitely reduce our jobless shift hours”

Ray hummed in agreement, knowing what he was talking about pretty well. He had had his own fair share of long shifts lately.

However, Victor, who was mindlessly tracing patterns on Nova's hand, suddenly froze. He looked up, locking eyes with Daniel, thoughtful and almost pained.

“Not… not all of them, sir,” he said, carefully choosing his words like he was walking through a minefield. “Some people are born into the life they never asked for. They don’t get any say in it. Not everyone is vicious. Fangs are a family of master criminals, right?

I'm sure some are just stuck, done nothing wrong but be born into the wrong bloodline. Realistically, how could all be born wicked and sadistic? That's impossible.

I say they deserve a shot at something better.” It wasn't an argument; it was a heartfelt belief, a call for understanding in a black-and-white world. 

Daniel studied him closely. There was no glamorizing crime; just a deep understanding of circumstances and a belief in redemption. The kid had a conscience.

----

In the warmer atmosphere that followed later on, Daniel finally decided to address the obvious. His voice was calm but firm. “Victor, that’s a serious scar on your arm. I noticed it earlier.”

The comfortable mood didn’t fall apart this time, but it became serious.

Victor’s body went rigid, not from the tension of a caught criminal, but from something deeper, more painful.

“Just an old injury, sir,” he said quietly, losing his usual confidence.

“I’ve seen tons of injuries,” Daniel replied, his gaze unflinching. “That doesn’t look like a fall. It looks like a knife. Maybe a street fight? ”

“Dad—” Nova tried to interrupt, her voice tight with concern, and she felt slightly angry at her father for bringing up such a clearly sensitive topic.

Ray jumped in, his tone sharper than usual. “Let it go, Dad.”

That immediate defense from his kids added to Daniel's suspicions. There was clearly something they didn't want him to find out. 

He raised a hand, silencing them, his eyes still on Victor. “I’m talking to him.”

Victor looked up, meeting Daniel’s gaze. There was no defiance, just weariness. He shook his head slightly, a sad expression on his face.

“You’re right, sir. It wasn’t an accident.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “ It’s from my teenage years. But not from a street fight.My aunt Veronica… she hass her own way of dealing with... disobedience.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and horrible.

Elanor gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh, Victor…”

It's why I decided to leave my home right after graduation, and moved in with Vera and Vargas when I returned,” Victor said, throwing in some half-truths to spice up the story. “We all needed to get out of that environment.”

He looked at Daniel, his eyes wide open and sincere. “But it’s in the past now. I don’t talk to her anymore. My life is here now.” When he glanced at Nova, his face softened with a real love that was easy to see. “My focus is on the future.”

Daniel took a good look at him. The story made sense. It explained the bruises Nova mentioned years ago and why the cousins were so tight-knit. The cop side of him noticed the vague language, but the dad side saw a young man his kids were fiercely protecting—someone who had clearly been through some tough times, but had grown up.

The confrontation wrapped up not with a dramatic showdown, but with a quiet understanding

Later, as they tried to rebuild a fragile peace, Ray asked about the red streaks in their hair. “Alright, cousin cult. What’s the real story?”

Victor’s smile turned a bit nostalgic but was still genuine. He seemed to drift back in time for a moment before he began. “It’s actually the permanent mark of a lost backgammon game. A few years before we moved to Seabrook, we were at a big family gathering in Silveria. The adults were all... wrapped up in their own drama, so we kids were just left to entertain ourselves in my aunt’s sunroom.”

He took a sip of water, gathering his thoughts. “Me, Vera, and Vargas thought we could take on our older cousins, including Aida, who's always the sensible one, and Silas, who’s kind of a smug gambler when he thinks he’s got the upper hand.” Victor's tone was fond, edged with that competitive spirit. “We teamed up, and the stakes got high. Silas, being his dramatic self, said if their team lost, they’d have to give us some cash—enough to feel like kings for a week. But if we lost…”

Victor chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Silas said we had to dye a bright, cherry red streak in our hair. He thought it’d be the ultimate embarrassment—make us look like punk kids for weeks. He wanted to have a good laugh every time he saw us.”

Nova, having heard bits and pieces before, smiled and urged him to keep going.

“We felt super confident. Too confident, honestly,” Victor said, giving a self-deprecating shrug. “And we lost. Badly. So, we had to do it. Aida, to her credit, helped us out so it wouldn’t ruin our hair. I think she felt a bit sorry for Silas being such a jerk. But when we looked in the mirror afterward… it didn’t look stupid.”

He looked at Ray and Daniel, his expression more serious. “It was different. Bold. It was ours. In a big family where everyone’s trying to fit a certain mold, having this one thing that belonged to just the three of us back then? It felt like our own little club. A silent promise. So, we never dyed it back. And guess what? Silas ended up creating a trend because half of our younger cousins wanted red streaks, too. He basically made us famous for it, while we got to wear our badge of honor.”

The story, so simple and full of family antics, worked its magic in the room. It painted a picture of a childhood that, while maybe strict or crowded, still had its share of fun and bonding moments.

Ray burst out laughing. “Serves him right. It looks cool, anyway.”

Elanor smiled warmly. “It’s a lovely symbol of your bond.”

Daniel didn’t say much, but the story did its job, softening the overly serious image of Victor's family and swapping it for something way more human. It was a story about kids outsmarting a bully and finding their identity in a big family. And for a moment, Victor wasn’t just a mysterious figure from a dark place; he was just a kid who lost a bet and gained a sense of self.

It was during this fragile peace that Victor, helping to clear the dessert plates, turned to Elanor. “Thank you again for dinner. Truly. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a home-cooked meal like that.”

His gratitude was so genuine it was almost painful.

Nova, feigning offense, put her hands on her hips. “What, no thanks to me?”

Victor raised a single, knowing eyebrow. “No? I’m fairly certain you had nothing to do with the food.”

“How so?”

Ray leaned in, stage-whispering. “Come on, Nov, we all know what your cooking tastes like.”

“Hey! Rude! Vargas loves my cooking!”

Victor chuckled. “Sunshine, I grew up with Vargas. The man’s culinary standards are ‘edible’ and ‘not edible.’ He’d eat anything softer than a rock.”

Ray nodded sagely. “After the ‘crispy’ chocolate cake incident two weeks ago, I think I’d prefer the rock.”

The two young men shared a look of perfect understanding. Nova threw her hands up in defeat, but she was laughing.

“Fine. See if I ever cook for either of you for the rest of your lives.”

Ray heaved an enormous, theatrical sigh of relief. “Vic… I think you and I have just been blessed by the gods for a longer, and significantly safer, life.”

“Tell me about it, Ray,” Victor agreed with grave solemnity.

“I hate you both!” Nova exclaimed 

Victor, knowing exactly how to reel her back in, leaned back thoughtfully. “You know… this does leave us with a problem. If you’re on a cooking strike, you’ll have free time for the true-crime marathon with me and Vera this weekend. We’ll need someone with a sharp legal mind to point out all the procedural inaccuracies.”

He looked at her, his expression serious but his eyes sparkling. It was an invitation back into their world.

Nova tried to keep a straight face, but she couldn’t help but smile. “Alright… someone’s gotta keep things interesting. I guess I can hang out with you for a bit.”

.....

As the evening wrapped up, Victor smoothly kicked off the farewells. “I should probably head out. You guys have been super generous, and we’ve got an early start with classes tomorrow.”

The goodbyes at the door were pretty different. Elanor pulled him into a warm, motherly hug. “You’re always welcome, Victor.” Ray gave him that complicated handshake and added, “Don’t be a stranger, man.”

Then it was Nova’s turn. They hugged tightly, sharing a wordless moment between them.

“Drive safe,” she whispered.

“Always do,” he replied quietly. “Get some rest, sunshine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Daniel was the last to say goodbye. He offered his hand, and the handshake was firm, but the previous tension had faded into a tired, watchful acceptance.

“Drive safe, Victor.”

“I will, sir. Thanks again for everything.”

Once the door closed, Daniel looked at his family. Nova was glowing, Elanor was smiling, and Ray was already heading back for more pie. The Chief of Police didn’t say anything. He hadn’t exactly given his blessing, but he’d officially let it slide. He recognized the protector, the loyal friend, the good-hearted kid. And he had noticed the scar and heard the chilling story behind it. The dinner was a win for the young couple, but it also left Daniel with a father’s cautious hope, ready to turn into anger if that hope was ever disappointed.

---

Victor’s car door clicked shut with a soft thud, the sound swallowed up by the quiet night. The drive home was a blur, but for the first time in weeks, it was a blur of relief. He replayed the evening not with all the strategy but with a quiet, growing sense of joy.

When he pushed open the apartment door, Vargas was lounging on the couch. Vera looked up from her textbook. They caught sight of the almost dazed, unguarded look on his face and instantly knew.

"It was good," Victor said, leaning back against the door with a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. "It was... really good."

Vera closed her book, a rare, small smile creeping onto her lips. "Yeah?"

"Elanor," Victor began, his voice full of warm disbelief. "She remembered from the principal's office. She said she knew I had a good heart." He shook his head, the validation washing over him again.

Vargas set his controller down and grinned. "Told you she's the best."

"And Ray," Victor laughed, the sound easy and free. "It was just like old times. We teamed up against Nova about her cooking. It was normal. It was... family."

The smile softened as he finally pushed off the door. "Daniel... he saw the scar. I had to tell him it was from her. From high school."

He saw the understanding in his cousins' eyes.

"But he believed me," Victor said, and the relief in those words was palpable. "He sees me as someone who got out of a bad situation. He didn't... he didn't see anything else."

The air in the apartment seemed to lighten. This wasn't a strategic victory; it was a personal one.

Vargas nodded, his expression satisfied. "Good. That's how it should be."

Victor looked around the messy apartment, but tonight, it didn't feel like a war room. It felt like a launchpad. The dinner had been a success. The path forward, for the first time, seemed clear and bright. The secrets were still there, but for this one night, Victor Ashlin allowed himself to feel not like a leader of a rebellion, but simply like a boy who was one step closer to the girl he loved.

Chapter Text

The weak winter light of a late December morning streamed through the windows of the cousins' apartment, barely cutting through the chill that had settled deep in Victor’s heart.

Since the Bright family dinner, things had been a crazy mix of ups and downs. The wary acceptance he’d finally gotten had created a new rhythm in their lives. With exams coming up, their world shrank to the cozy glow of their coffee table. It felt familiar, like they were back in high school again: Vera diving into her criminology texts, Nova surrounded by law casebooks, and Victor sketching in the midst of his own art theory chaos. They were a trio of quiet struggle and shared comfort, powered by Vargas’s endless coffee and tea. The biggest sign of progress was Nova staying over for late-night study sessions. 

On lighter days when they didn't need to stress about their exams, and Ray was off duty, he joined four of them for gaming competitions. Another thing that felt both nostalgic and almost normal. They even had movie nights that reminded them of a simpler, stolen life.

Outwardly, it was everything he’d ever wanted.

But inside, it felt like a silent battle, and the pressure was becoming overwhelming.

As he quizzed Nova on tort law, his mind was on Ash’s movements. The missions had ramped up—secretly taking over Fang-controlled channels and intercepting communications. The Eldress’s unnerving silence was the worst part. It felt less like she was backing off and more like a predator circling its prey; she knew about the Brights and that Victor's heart was now a prime target.

So while he laughed during movie nights, a part of him was anxiously waiting for a coded message from the extra patrols he’d arranged to keep an eye on the Bright house. Every normal moment was steeped in the fear of the worst outcome. The "approval" had turned into the bars of a gilded cage, and his secret was the weapon he’d handed to his aunt.

Last night, he made a decision: Tonight, at dinner, he would tell Nova everything. He had to before his aunt possibly did it on his behalf in the worst possible way. Damn the incomplete documents, he could not take looking straight into her crystal eyes, full of life and love and trust and keep the most important part of himself from her. Even after having over two years of more practice than him, he knew Vera and Vargas had their own fair share of uncomfortable and sad moments of lying to the siblings,their best friends.

Now, the semester was over. Elanor and Daniel were away on meeting outside the city for a couple of days, Ray having a day off at home, enjoying the quiet break time, and Vera and Vargas had gone to the mansion to check  up on everyone —“buying groceries.” as the cover story they had came up to tell Nova said. He and Nova had the whole day free, completely alone. A perfect last day before he shook their world once and for all.

It was a day he both wanted and dreaded, a final, beautiful lie before facing the truth.

He’d been waiting for her by the door, a bundle of nervous energy. When she walked in, bringing the crisp scent of winter air, he moved to hug her, almost desperately. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, his face buried in her hair. It wasn’t just a hello; it was a guy hanging on for dear life.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice muffled against her scarf.

“It’s winter,” she replied gently, rubbing comforting circles on his back. She could feel the tension in his muscles. “You feel… wired. Everything okay?”

He let her go just enough to see her, forcing a smile he hoped looked normal. “More than okay. I get you all to myself today. No Vera to steal you away for study sessions, no Vargas challenging me to more push-ups. No Ray to drag you away... ” The joke fell flat; it was too rehearsed.

He had planned the day with all the precision of a general readying for a battle he knew he couldn’t win. The schedule was filled with everyday fun: baking cookies, a fancy board game he’d ordered just for this, and diving into an art history book. Each activity was meant to build a wall between them and the truth.

As they measured flour and sugar in the kitchen, Nova noticed him. His hands, usually so steady and graceful with a paintbrush, shook a bit as he measured out vanilla extract. He was laser-focused on getting the recipe right like it was the most important thing in the world.

“You’re being really... careful today,” she noted lightly.

His eyes flicked to her and back to the bowl. “Is there any other way to be?” he deflected, but his tense shoulders gave him away.

Later, while playing a board game, his moves were super aggressive, almost desperate, like he thought he could beat whatever was looming over him just by being forceful in Catan. When she jokingly blocked his longest road, his laugh came out short and sharp, definitely lacking any joy.

“You’re not really focused,” she pointed out, taking one of his knights with her queen.

“I’m just enjoying the view,” he shot back, but his eyes were far away, looking through her instead of at her. They kept drifting down the hallway towards the closed door of his bedroom. She had noticed that tell over the past few days. That door, always shut now, was hiding something.

The chance to dig deeper came up naturally. “The Caravaggio book,” she said as she stood up and stretched. “The one with the cool lighting you said I had to check out. It’s in your room, right?”

His reaction was immediate. Color drained from his face. “I’ll get it,” he blurted out, almost jumping up from the floor.

“Just stay put,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Eat your cookie. I’ll be right back.”

She could feel his anxious stare burning into her back as she walked away, heavy and intense. Her hand lingered on the doorknob, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. She pushed the door open.

The room was spotless, with weak winter light casting creepy, long shadows. It smelled like him—fresh linen, a hint of turpentine, and something else, something sharp: fear. And there it was, propped up on an easel in the corner, turned slightly away from the door like it was embarrassed.

The painting.

It was a total mess. The painting looked like a chaotic scene, with layers of black and dark, murky gray splattered across the canvas as if someone had gone wild with rage. From that darkness, sharp streaks of bright crimson burst through, almost like raw, open wounds of pain. It was completely chaotic and heartbreaking. 

Nova wasn’t really an artist. She couldn’t break down the techniques or styles. But she knew Victor inside and out. After spending quite some time in the studio of art department watching the stories come to life on canvas, she could tell the difference between the sunny yellows of good memories and the dark, stormy purples of tough times. But this… this was different. It felt like a deep, raw expression of hurt—something way bigger than words could cover. It was almost like depression or desperation. She stood there for what felt like forever, trying to take in the pain spilling from the easel. 

He clearly had rough time recentally. 

She realized she had to do something: talk to him, encourage him to open up. Even though he often spoke in a way that hid his feelings, she was willing to wait until he was ready to share. Whatever he was dealing with, she was determined to help him as much as she could. 

“Victor, are you feeling alr—” 

When she stepped back into the living room, he looked like a completely different person. He stood there tense, gripping the kitchen counter so hard his knuckles turned white.

“You saw it,” he said, his voice empty.

He started pacing like a caged animal, breathing quickly and shallowly, raking his hands through his hair, pulling at the roots. His eyes were wide and glazed over, clearly lost in some dark thought.

“Nova, I… I can’t…” he stammered, his words tumbling out. “I’m ready. I have to tell you. I’m ready to spill everything.” He stopped suddenly, chest heaving. “But I’m so… terrified.” That confession hit hard. “What if… after you know, you can’t even stand to be near me? The thought of you looking at me with fear, or even disgust… I can’t lose you. I’d rather stay here in this hell than risk losing you.” 

She was momentarily stunned, not expecting that at all. If it had been any other day, any other situation, she would have been thrilled that he was finally ready to open up. But not like this, not when he was in this kind of pain. Almost going through a panic attack at the simple idea of sharing it with her

This was the core of it all. Not just a dark past, but the fear of what that could mean for them. 

Her heart ached for him. The logical side of her, being the daughter of a police chief, started wondering about all the possibilities—organized crime, violence, a tangled web of lies. But the side of her that loved him saw only the beautiful, broken man in front of her, weighed down by guilt she couldn’t quite understand. 

She walked toward him slowly, carefully, like she was approaching a scared animal. “Victor,” she said, her voice calm and steady amid his apparent panic. “Look at me.” 

It took a lot for him, but finally, his wild, glassy eyes met hers. 

“I’m going to ask you some questions,” she said, keeping her gaze locked on his. “And I need you to answer me, without looking away. Got it?” 

He nodded sharply, his jaw clenched tight. 

“Are you a serial killer?” 

That straightforward question caught him off guard, like she’d thrown a bucket of cold water over him. His eyes went wide in shock. “What? No!” he answered immediately, sounding totally sincere. 

“A psychopath? Do you feel no empathy?” 

“No!”

“A sadist? Do you like causing pain?” 

“Never!” he replied, the word coming out with pure disgust. 

She kept going, her voice gentle but firm, like a lawyer laying out the worst-case scenarios. A trafficker? A predator? Someone who would hurt a child? For each one, he reacted in horror, keeping his eyes on hers, his answers clear and solid. She was knocking down the monsters hiding in the dark, showing that they were just shadows. 

Then came the question that hit the hardest, the one that really mattered between them. 

“Have you ever lied to me?” 

He flinched like she’d slapped him. His strong eye contact broke, and his gaze dropped to the floor, shoulders sagging under the weight of overwhelming shame.

“Yes,” he said quietly, the word slipping out like a secret he wasn’t sure he wanted to share. It felt like admitting to his biggest mistake.  

“I know,” she replied, her tone somehow soothing, almost like she was giving him a free pass on that guilt before it could even hit him. “But really, the only thing I care about right now is this: Have you ever lied about us? What do we even have? How do you really feel about me?”  

At that, he shot his head up. The fear and shame in his eyes shifted to something fierce and desperate. He stepped closer, grabbing her face gently, his thumbs brushing her cheeks.  

“Nova,” he said, his voice shaky but loaded with emotion, “look at me. I’ve been completely honest about how I feel. My feelings for you are the truest thing in my life. They’ve never been tainted by the… you know, the darkness. I’ve already told you that. That’s the one thing I’ve never messed with. It’s the core of who I am.”  

A soft, knowing smile spread across Nova’s face. That was the answer she needed, proof for both of them. His lies could be dealt with later. Their love had a solid foundation. They didn’t need words anymore; they had said all that needed to be said.  

Without saying anything, she took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, and led him. Not away from the darkness but right into the middle of it. She guided him back to his room, the center of his pain.  

When they reached the pained canvas, she stopped. Without a word, she grabbed the tube of bright red paint he had used before. Squeezing out a blob of it onto the palette, she then picked a new color: a glowing, warm gold—the shade of sunlight on wheat fields, symbolizing hope and, well, her.  

With some clumsy but deliberate strokes, she started to paint over part of the chaotic red. She sketched a broken heart in the middle of the darkness, its pieces not quite touching each other.  

Victor’s breath caught. He understood her intention immediately. She wasn’t trying to erase anything; it was more like an invitation. A way to collaborate, to heal together, merging his darkness with her light. He stepped forward, covering her hand with his, guiding the brush. He showed her how to blend and soften the harsh red edges, how to mix in the brilliant gold, creating a new shade that was a reflection of both pain and hope, something vibrant and resilient. They worked in silence, the only sounds were their breathing, the gentle scrape of the brush, and the hopeful thumping of their hearts. Together, stroke by stroke, they turned what had once screamed darkness into something beautiful—a shared creation.  

When they finally stepped back, his arms wrapped around her from behind, they took a moment to admire what they’d made together. The darkness was still there, but now it served as a powerful backdrop, giving depth to the vivid colors glowing brightly at its center.  

Nova leaned her head back against him, feeling the steady heartbeat against her back. "I love you, Victor " she said softly, making it a promise. "And as long as the man I love is the one who just answered my questions—a good person stuck in a tough situation, not a monster—then we can fix whatever’s broken. Together."  

She felt the last bit of tension leave his body as he tightened his embrace. He rested his chin on her head.  

Turning to face him, she looked thoughtful and gentle. "But if you’re worried about how we’ll be after you spill everything," she began, "let's pick a place that’ll make it easier for both of us. How about we go to the beach tonight?"  

He looked down at her, listening closely.

"You know, the waves are the only thing that can really calm the chaos inside me, besides you,” she said, her voice soft yet confident. “And the quiet of the night… that’s what helps you think, clears your mind. If things start to feel too heavy, we’ll be in the one place that can chill us both out.”

Victor’s expression softened, the idea settling over him like a warm hug. The beach at night wasn’t just some random spot; it was a smart choice for them, showing how well she understood him.

“Alright, sunshine,” he said softly, relief washing over him. He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Tonight. At the beach.”

He took a deep breath, a genuine smile finally breaking through. “But before we dive into that… let’s grab dinner. One last… normal dinner. Just Nova, the kickass law student who just wiped the floor with me at Settlers of Catan, and Victor, the art student totally obsessed with your smile.” He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ll have one last chill meal, just us, before… before everything changes.” A faint smirk appeared on his lips. “We can even pretend we’re bringing leftovers back for Vargas. You know how he can be. That guy has a bottomless pit for a stomach. He’d say a good meal can fix anything, and honestly… I think I’m starting to believe him.”

Nova smiled, a warm, loving grin that lit up her whole face. It was the perfect offer. A final, beautiful, ordinary memory to hold onto—a cozy restaurant, just the two of them, sharing a meal and smiles before stepping out into the cold, quiet night to face whatever was coming, hand in hand.

“One last normal dinner,” she agreed, her voice thick with emotion. “Sounds perfect.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled with a shared determination. The hardest part was behind them; the plan was in place.

“I’ll meet you there,” Victor said softly, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. “At La Sirena. How about a late dinner… nine-thirty?”

Nova nodded. A late reservation felt just right; it was more intimate, fitting for their serious talk. “Nine-thirty,” she confirmed. “I’ll probably get there early to snag us a good table.”

A faint, bittersweet smile crossed his lips. “I know you will.” He understood her habits better than anyone. “I’ll be coming from the studio. Need a few more hours to…” He trailed off, gesturing toward his painting, a cover for the final struggle with his own thoughts he had to face alone.

It was a silent agreement. They needed these hours apart to shake off the tension of the day, to build up their courage for the evening ahead.

He walked her to the door, his hand lingering in hers until the last possible moment.

“Tonight,” he said, his voice low and steady, a promise that felt heavier than usual.

“Tonight,” she echoed.

Then, she turned and walked away. The cold winter air hit her like a splash of water, waking her up. She had hours to be alone with her thoughts, to prepare for the storm she knew was coming.

Back in his quiet apartment, Victor stood for a moment, staring at the closed door. He turned and walked back to his room, his gaze falling on their shared painting. He had until nine-thirty to face his demons one last time before he handed them over to her.

The plan was set. She would head to the restaurant, full of hope for their "last normal" night. He would follow, ready to finally tell the truth.

Chapter Text

The soft glow of the vanity light highlighted Nova's focused expression as she applied some mascara. Her hands were steady, but her thoughts were all over the place, tangled up in memories of Victor's moody painting and his panic, then his promises about being real.

A knock at her door startled her. Ray was leaning against the frame, dressed casually in a dark Henley and jeans. His sharp gaze took her in.

“You’re looking fancy,” he teased, but his tone had that serious undertone. “Big date with Mr. Dracula? ”

Taking a deep breath, Nova met his eyes in the mirror. “Yeah, it’s a big date.” She turned to face him, a mix of nerves and determination dancing on her face. “Tonight’s the night, Ray. He’s going to tell me everything. About their family, his past, all of it, everything that they have been keeping from us.”

The teasing look faded from Ray’s face, replaced by a protective vibe. “Everything? You sure you’re ready for that?”

“I have to be,” she said, steadying her voice. “I can’t build a life on half-truths.” She gestured to her outfit. “I was thinking about taking your car, if that's okay?It’s just to the restaurant and back.”

Ray shook his head, not even thinking twice. “It’s night. And honestly, I don’t have anything else going on. It's my day off, remember ” He waved it off nonchalantly. “I have to meet some guys from the precinct later anyway. I’ll drop you off. It’s my big brother duty to make sure you get to your ‘everything’ talk in one piece.” He winked at her

A wave of relief washed over Nova. She didn't want to worry about driving; her mind was too cluttered. “Okay,” she said softly. “Thanks, Ray.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, affectionately pushing off the doorframe. “Just don’t make me late for my meeting. And text me if you need a ride back."

As they cruised through the quiet winter streets, the car filled with a comfortable silence. Ray’s presence kept her grounded—a connection to her current situation before she faced the evening with Victor.

He pulled up outside La Sirena. “Alright. He'd better not keep you waiting.”

“He won’t,” Nova said, trying to reassure herself more than anything. She leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Ray. Seriously.”

“Go get your truth, kid,” he said, his tone unusually soft.

Nova narrowed her eyes playfully. "I think you sometimes forget I'm barely two years younger than you. And most of the times, mentally older than you"

Ray just smirked teasingly,and a little annoyed."Sure, with that big brain of yours."

She laughed in response.

Then she hopped out, and Ray watched her walk into the warmly lit restaurant before he left.

Once inside, the hostess led her to a cozy booth. Nova settled in and ordered a sparkling water while she waited, her fingers tracing the condensation on the glass. The low hum of the restaurant was calming against her racing thoughts. She checked her phone—9:25. He’d be here any minute.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Victor:

Sorry, traffic's heavier than I thought, I might be a little late. Order something for yourself.

If anything feels off, trust your instincts—they're always right.

A small smile spread across her face as she rolled her eyes. Typical Victor, always worried about her, even now.

She tucked her phone away, feeling a strange sense of calm. Whatever happened, they’d face it together. She had promised to him. And she had promised herself she will be logical rather emotional. Victor clearly needed logic and understanding at this phase of his life. Whatever it was.

Then, a shadow loomed over her table. “Nova Bright? Is that you?”

Looking up, she recognized the face she’d only seen once, over four years ago, but would never forget—Veronica Ashlin. Dressed in an expensive black pantsuit, hair pulled into a neat bun. She flashed a polished smile that looked like it was pulled straight from a magazine.

“Ms. Ashlin,” Nova acknowledged, standing up to greet her, her voice neutral.

“What a small world,” Veronica said, her tone casual and surprisingly upbeat. “I’m meeting a business associate, but they’re running late. Mind if I wait here? I hate sitting alone.” Not waiting for an answer, she smoothly sat down across from Nova.

Nova’s politeness, ingrained from a lifetime as the daughter of two public figures, warred with a deep-seated alarm. "Not at all,” she said, her voice tight.

“I must say, you’ve grown into such a lovely young woman,” Veronica continued, her eyes scanning Nova with an appraising coolness that felt anything but complimentary. “Your parents must be so proud. A law student, isn’t it? Such a respectable path.”

“Thank you,” Nova replied, her senses on high alert. This woman knew exactly who she was. And not through any of the cousins for sure. None of them had talked to their abusive aunt for two and a half years. As far as she knew.  Her guard went up, Victor's text echoing in her head. If anything feels off...

Is it a coincidence Victor's aunt was in the exat same restaurant they had planned to meet? At the exact time?

She highly doubted

“And what brings you here alone? A study break?” Veronica asked, feigning innocent curiosity.

Nova chose her words carefully, not wanting to reveal her hand. “I’m meeting a friend.”

“Oh, how nice!” Veronica’s smile was a razor blade sheathed in silk. “A lucky friend. I hope he appreciates such lovely company.”

The use of "he" was a trap, subtle but deliberate. Nova didn't take the bait. She simply offered a non-committal smile and took a sip of water. The silence stretched, becoming heavy and uncomfortable.

Veronica’s mask of pleasantry began to thin. Her gaze turned more direct, more probing. "And who is this lucky friend you're waiting for with such clear anticipation?"

Nova felt a chill. Trust your instincts. "I...doubt you know them," she said, her tone still polite but firm. 

A knowing, cold smile graced Veronica's lips. "It's Victor, isn't it? My nephew." She let the words hang, watching for a reaction. Nova kept her face carefully neutral. She felt no need to react to this woman's provocations.

Veronica leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a confidential, venomous whisper. Her chin rested on her intertwined hands elegantly. "You know, it's so important for young women to be careful about the company they keep. To avoid... unpredictable elements. The wrong association can tarnish a reputation built over a lifetime." Her gaze was piercing. "A family's legacy is a fragile thing sweetheart.

Victor on the other hand... he comes from a very dark world. A world of violence and difficult choices. He may seem gentle, but that is a carefully constructed facade. The chaos he attracts is a vortex. He will pull you under eventually, and that will break your parents' hearts."

Every word was a calculated needle, designed to isolate and sow doubt. But Nova, armed with the knowledge that Victor was ready to tell her everything already, felt an unexpected calm. She wasn't hearing shocking revelations; she was hearing the twisted version of a story she was about to get from the source. She was not going to take her answers from the woman she knew had brought nothing but trouble to her partner she, and she had only met her once in person before tonight.

She remained silent, her expression one of polite disinterest.

Seeing her calm, Veronica's eyes flashed with impatience. The threat, though veiled, was now clear as day.

Nova felt more alarmed. 

Trust your instincts, they are always right. The words echoed in her mind again. Maybe Victor had meant more than she thought. Did he know his aunt was going to show up? This dinner was already going in the wrong direction. 

Nova had been polite long enough. She placed her glass down with a soft, final click.

"It was... interesting to see you, Ms. Ashlin," Nova said, her voice cool and formal as she stood. "But my friend will be here any moment, and I'd prefer to wait for them alone outside. With all due respect I don't think they will appreciate your companion. Hope your associate arrives soon."

She turned to leave, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had managed the interaction with grace, she had held her ground.

Or that's what she thought.

She had taken three steps when it happened.

A large man in a dark, well-tailored suit moved with startling, silent speed. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance from behind. His left arm snaked around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides in a powerful bear hug. At the exact same time, his right hand clamped over her mouth.

The grip was brutal and professional. Her breath caught in horror.  

"The lady," The man hissed in her ear with a low voice that was only for her ear with a sickening tone. "was not finished."

From the table, Veronica spoke again, her tone almost reasonable. "I was hoping you could understand me, darling. Maybe we can still come to terms. It would be good for both of us if you cooperate and don’t make a scene."

Just then, a second man approached, moving with practiced subtlety. He had a pistol tucked in the inner pocket of his suit and a syringe in his hand—a display meant only for Nova. Her eyes grew wide in fear. The entire interaction was skillfully hidden from the other patrons. To anyone else, it looked like a quiet conversation. Nobody could see that she was in some sort of mortal danger. Who Veronica really was?And what in the world she wanted with her?!

"A simple choice, my dear," Veronica purred. "You can either agree to come with me quietly," she nodded toward the syringe, "and my friend will make it as quick and harmless as a pinch. It's a slow affect drug. Until it takes affect, you must walk with us outside, like we are casualy meeting. Before you securely collapse to their arms. No harm will come to anyone. Or.... " her eyes flicked to the pistol, "you can choose to draw attention, and not only will you be in danger, but anyone who meddles, will get punished. You’re coming with us either way. We still have... matters to discuss dear. "

Nova didn't know what other matters she had to discuss with her, or whatever she had done to her to deserve being treated like this, but no matter how dreadful and hopeless the situation was, Nova was not one to give in without a fight. Especially if her life was being threatened, in a public place like this, where there was hope to get help.

Fifteen years of training kicked in. She went limp for a fraction of a second, causing the first man to adjust his grip. It was all the opening she needed. Her head snapped back, cracking into his nose with a sickening crunch. As he grunted in pain, his grip loosened. She drove her elbow hard into his ribs and kicked sharply at his shin, making him stumble and his arm fall away. Spinning free, she faced the second man, who was already shifting to use the syringe. Nova was faster. She kicked out, her heel connecting squarely with his wrist. There was a sharp crack, and the syringe clattered to the floor. He cried out, clutching his probably broken wrist.

Panting, she stood poised for the next attack, planning her escape. She had definitely caused a scene.

Veronica didn’t look angry; she looked… impatient. A slow, condescending clap echoed in the secluded space. "I was well aware of your training alre, dear. A pity we were prepared." She gave a barely perceptible nod.

From the shadows of the restaurant's main entrance, four more men emerged—armed and moving with disciplined purpose, fanning out to surround her. One of them fired a shot, and the other patrons in restaurant finally realized what was really going on. They started panicking, screaming, and taking shelter.

Nova was cornered. She could take on one or two men with bare hands, but four? Armed? It was a calculation she couldn't win. And even if she did try, what would that mean for all the scared innocent citizens here?

It was an impossible situation; her breathing was becoming shallow and desperate. She was losing hope.

Just then....

She saw him in the middle of the chaos.

Victor stood at the threshold, having entered through a side door. His dark, calm eyes took in the entire scene in an instant.

Their eyes met, and a silent, electric current passed between them in a split second. He gestured for her to stay quiet, in a way only she could understand. Don’t acknowledge me. You can do it. I'm right here.

That was his message.

Nova understood. His presence filled her with a new calm and a clear strategy. She let his gaze ground her, then broke the contact instantly. Her shoulders slumped in a perfect pantomime of defeated exhaustion. Letting out a shaky, pathetic sound, she raised her hands slowly in a gesture of fear and surrender.

"Al… alright…" she stammered, her voice trembling with feigned terror. Loud enough for Veronica to hear. "I’ll… I’ll be quiet. Please... don't hurt anyone. "

It was a trick. The posture and the plea weren't about giving up, but coiling for an explosive move. She adjusted her footing, grounding herself and centering her balance.

Veronica smirked, seeing only the surrender. "Wise choice." She gestured to the two men directly in front of Nova. "Secure her."

They holstered their weapons and moved forward to physically capture her, confident now. Their mistake.

The moment the first man was within range, arms raised enough to grab her, Nova exploded into motion. She grabbed his extended arm, using his own momentum to spin him violently into his partner. They collided in a tangle of limbs. Creating enough space for her to escape. The path was now clear.

She didn’t look back or think about whether the other two men were pursuing her. She was faster. She ran straight into Victor's waiting arms.

He caught her, his embrace a tight band of safety and fury. It was a desperate "I got you." He buried his face in her hair for a brief, shuddering moment, his voice a raw whisper against her skin. "You’re safe. I got you." He ran his hand reassuringly along her back.

Nova took in the moment of safety, then turned within the circle of his arms, her back to his chest, instantly scanning the remaining threats. She was breathing in ragged, shaky gasps. Heart still hammering.

Victor’s hand splayed across her stomach,holding her firmly and securely against him. He dipped his head, his lips close to her ear, his voice a low, hypnotic command that brooked no argument. "Nova, listen to me. Whatever happens next, I'll handle it. Your only job is to focus on your breathing, Okay?Stay calm. Can you do that for me? Just breathe and don't let go of me."

She gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod, her body still tense, her cautious eyes locked on the circle of men. But she listened, drawing a slower, deeper breath, syncing her rhythm with his.

--------------------

The moment Nova was secure in his arms, Victor’s free hand moved. In a blur of motion, he drew a sleek pistol from a hidden holster at his back, the metal catching the light as he leveled it at the circle of men. The air crackled, the balance of power teetering.

The main entrance was blocked by Veronica’s goons. There was no clean escape.

And then she emerged from behind her human shields. Veronica Ashlin(Fangs) looked exactly as he remembered—a sculpture of cold elegance and absolute authority. A slow, condescending smile spread across her lips.

“Victor,” she purred, her voice dripping with false warmth. “Two and a half years, and you still have a flair for the dramatic. Did you come here just to prove you have a gut?”

Victor’s gaze was icy, his arm steady around Nova, his gun unwavering. “I didn’t come to prove anything to you, Auntie. You came for my heart.” He tightened his hold on Nova. “You just forgot… I’ve got fangs too.”

Veronica’s smile didn't falter, but her eyes went as flat and dead as a shark’s. "I remember the canines of the pup that ran away. They were never as sharp as he believed. Your bark was always worse than your bite, nephew. "

“Oh, you think?” Victor’s voice was dangerously quiet. He didn't shout. He simply raised his chin a fraction, a silent, pre-arranged signal.

The reaction was instantaneous. The elderly man reading a newspaper, the young couple, the waiter—all of Victor’s people, who had been perfectly pretending to be terrified patrons moments before—shed their disguises in a synchronized, chilling motion. Fear vanished from their faces, replaced by cold resolve as they stood up tall. The newspaper fell, revealing a submachine gun. Hands dove under jackets and behind the bar, emerging with pistols. In less than three seconds, they had formed a perfect, armed circle around Veronica and her stunned goons. Victor’s people not only outnumbered hers, but their flawless performance proved they were a different caliber entirely.

The hunters were now the hunted.

Veronica’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of cold appraisal. She didn't even glance at the weapons pointed at her. "A prepared little tableau," she said, her voice a low murmur that carried a glacial threat. "Though, It tells me nothing about how you'll fare when the real shooting starts, and the bodies begin to drop. First, you sabotage my shipment at the docks, then you turn my own lieutenants against me... and now this? An impressive, if misguided, display of power, nephew."

She took a slow step forward. "This little rebellion of yours has been a nuisance. But if you wanted to draw my attention, congrats. It proves you have a spine after all and are not completely useless. But still no match to me.

So I will offer this only once: surrender the girl. Come back and stand by my side. And in return," she gestured dismissively at Nova, "I’ll forgive your disobedience, and I'll even give you your pretty little toy back. Once I’m done with her, of course."

The word “toy” seemed to hang in the air, sucking the warmth from the room. It was an erasure. To this woman, she wasn't Nova—a person with a mind, a future, a life. She was an object. A lever to be pulled to control him. A thing to be used and then discarded.

Victor didn't flinch. Instead, a low, dangerous chuckle escaped him. His arm tightened around Nova, a possessive, protective band of steel. "You think you understand power, Auntie?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft. "You still lack the intelligence to understand this in my way: Power isn't in an empire. It's in the one person worth burning it all down for. And you just threatened her."

His voice dropped, becoming lethally quiet. "This disobedience, this grudge, is far older than you think. It all began the day you killed my parents. I stayed quiet after I found out. I stayed quite after everything you put me through. But the day you dared to bring Nova into this? That's when the embers turned into an inferno. You think you've seen my rage already? You've only seen it smolder. Touch her again, and I will reduce your entire empire to the Ashes I named my gang for."

Veronica stayed silent, eyes narrowed. She was not content with his exclamation abd attitude. Still believing she had control over him, them. The new generation.

He tilted his head, a cold, furious smile on his lips. "You've gone old, auntie. I told you these exactly two years and seven months ago, when I left my so-called home, but you don't seem to recall any of my words. Not even understand them properly in the first place. You are not as sharp as you used to be.

Maybe you should be the one to step aside. Leave Shadyside for us to rule. Or destroy." He shrugged. "Pretty much the same to us. Our only goal is to defang every last vampire who follows you in the shadows absent-mindedly."

Veronica listened, her expression unchanging, but a new, profound coldness settled in her posture. "You speak of burning things down," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow cut through the room. "But you are still a sentimental arsonist. You've just shown me the one and only thing you cannot bear to lose. That was your father's weakness, too you know. And look what happened to him." Her eyes flicked to Nova, and back to Victor, the promise in them more terrifying than any shouted threat. "I don't need to touch her to break her. I just need to make you watch."

The words hung in the air, and for Nova, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. She had done nothing but listen so far. More and more scared and confused each moment the show continued. She felt like being trapped in a cheap horror movie.

The pieces, all the strange clues she’d collected the last few years in silence, suddenly flew together and clicked into a terrifying, impossible picture.

The Fangs. Victor wants to defang the vampires. His gang is called the Ashes. Reduce Shadyside to Ashes. God, he, Vera, and Vargas were not only from the Shadyside, but also  Fangs themselves!

It wasn't just a dark family. It was a syndicate. The syndicate. The Fangs that her father and Ray muttered about in hushed, frustrated tones. The unreachable Eldress they had been haunting for years now was Veronica Ashlin.

And Victor...

Apparently, Victor was a reluctant heir to Shadyside. And as much as she gathered so far, he was the opposition. The leader of the Ashes. The group that had been sabotaging Fang operations lately. The spark that is trying to burn it all down.

The last realization was an ice-cold wave, so immense it almost drowned out her fear.

Victor held Veronica's gaze for one final, searing moment, the promise of total war hanging between them. He didn't wait for her retort.(And he didn't let his inner horror of her last words on surface the slightest)

"That's enough." He exclaimed.

" Let's go," he murmured to Nova, his voice dropping from a public declaration to a private, urgent command. He led her forward, and his armed men-who had cleared the way out for them- gave a slight, respectful nod as they passed.

And as he had commanded, they only changed their position, once he and Nova were out of sight, readying themselves for the gunshot and chase he was sure his aunt was going to command in seconds to grasp them. He and Vera were supposed to make sure Nova would see any of it.

They burst out into a cold, deserted alley, the silence a stark contrast to the tension they’d left behind. His black sedan, engine already running, was parked just feet away.

But he stopped before opening the door, turning Nova to face him. His gun was still in one hand, but the other came up to cradle her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin in a desperate, soothing rhythm.

The fact that Nova had stayed quite all this time was terrifing. This was so so messed up.

"Look at me, sunshine. Just look at me," he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and fear. Her eyes, wide and swimming with shock and adrenaline, locked onto his. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

Remembering how to talk again, she shook her head, a tiny, trembling movement. "No. I'm... I'm okay." But her body betrayed her words. A violent, fine tremor ran through her frame, and her breathing was shallow and rapid—the prelude to the very crash he feared.

He saw it. His trained eye recognized the signs instantly. He had to be quick.

"Nova, I need you to listen to me very carefully," he said, his voice a low, hypnotic command designed to cut through her panic. "I know it's too much, but what comes next will definitely be worse. Your body might go into shock. The adrenaline... the crash could put you in the hospital. Do you understand ?"

A flicker of understanding crossed her terrified face. She knew her own limits, her own medical history. She gave a weak, jerky nod.

"I have to stop it. Right now." His expression was one of profound, gut-wrenching love and apology. "This is the last thing I will ever do to hurt you, I swear it."

His arms shifted. One slid behind her back to support her. The other came up, his hand cradling her jaw and the side of her neck with a terrifying tenderness. His thumb and fingers found their precise positions.

Her eyes, wild with adrenaline and fear, saw his intention a split-second too late.

"Vic—?" It was half a question, half a plea, her voice choked with betrayal and fear. Her hands came up, not to claw, but to push weakly against his chest.

His expression was one of pure, agony. "I love you, Nova, I really do. " he breathed, the words a final, desperate vow.

He applied a swift, calculated compression.

It wasn't a blow. It was a sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness, a roaring in her ears as the world began to tunnel and fade to black. Her eyes, wide with shock, locked on his for a final second—seeing not violence, but anguished resolve—then instead of pushing him, she clutched his hoodie desperately as she started to lose balance before they fluttered shut. Her body went limp in his arms.

He caught her fully, his own body trembling. He held the pressure for a critical three-count before releasing, ensuring the result but minimizing risk. "I'm so sorry," he choked out, his face buried in her hair, holding her unconscious form. "I had to."

Then, with a soldier's resolve, he moved. He wrenched the back door open. Inside, Vera was already positioned, a pistol held ready in one hand, her body angled to cover the alley. Her eyes were sharp, scanning for threats.

"Get her in,quick! " Vera said, her voice clipped and devoid of all emotion. It was pure operational focus. With a fear and sympathy only he knew was buried beneath her solid mask.

Victor leaned in, his movements suddenly devoid of their earlier gentleness. It was no longer about cradling his love; it was about securing an asset. He laid Nova on the seat, and Vera immediately holstered her weapon, her hands coming up to cradle Nova's head, pulling it securely onto her lap. She shifted her own body, using it as a living shield between Nova and the door, her arm draped protectively over her best friend's unconscious form.

The moment Nova was safe in Vera's care, the last vestige of Victor's personal anguish vanished. It was like a mask slamming into place. His spine straightened, his jaw set into a hard line, and his eyes, which had been pools of torment moments before, went as flat and cold as polished stone.

He slammed the door shut, the sound final. As he slid into the driver's seat, the first gunshots rang out from the alley's entrance, pinging off the brickwork around them.

He didn't flinch. He didn't look back at Nova. He threw the car into gear. 

It was just the beginning of what that cursed night had in storage for them.