Nova
I don’t know how long we’ve been lying here.
Hours maybe. Long enough that the light through the window has shifted. My face feels swollen and raw from crying. But at least I’m not shaking anymore.
Vaelor left a while ago. He insisted on making food even though I don’t think anyone’s hungry.
My stomach growls.
Of course.
Beckett’s still here. Sitting at the end of the bed. Just watching.
Rane’s beside me. His arm around my waist. His chin resting on top of my head. He hasn’t said much. He can’t seem to let me go.
I shift slightly. Try to get more comfortable.
Pain shoots through my shoulder and I can’t stop the sound that comes out.
“Nova.”
Beckett. His voice sharp.
I press my face against Rane’s chest and breathe through it.
“What was that?” Beckett’s moving. I can feel the mattress shift. “Nova, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.”
I don’t answer.
“Nova.” His hand on my arm now. Gentle but firm. “What’s going on?”
I pull back from Rane just enough to sit up. My shoulder screams and I have to bite down on my lip to keep quiet.
Beckett’s eyes narrow. “How long has it been like that?”
“Like what?”
“Don’t.”
I look away. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You just—” He stops. Takes a breath. “What happened?”
I don’t want to say it. Don’t want to go back there. But he’s looking at me like he’s not going to let this go and I’m too tired to fight.
“The first day.” My voice comes out flat. “Before they—before everything. They took me to the showers. Had my hands tied above my head and I—” I stop. Swallow. “I lost my footing. My shoulder went out. I couldn’t get it back in.”
Silence.
Beckett doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. His jaw is tight and his hands are clenched at his sides.
“I tried,” I add. Like it matters. “I tried to fix it but I couldn’t—”
“Can I see it?”
I nod.
He moves slowly. Sits beside me. His fingers at the collar of the shirt I’m wearing—one of theirs, I don’t even know whose—and he pulls it down just enough to expose my shoulder.
He goes completely still.
I don’t look. I don’t need to. I know what it looks like. Black and purple and swollen. Wrong.
“Nova.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
“I know.”
“How long have you—”
“I told you, since the first day.”
“But that’s almost two weeks.”
I can hear his voice almost crack.
“I know.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Just looks at my shoulder. Then into my eyes and I don’t like the look he’s giving me.
“We need to reset it.”
I shake my head.
“Nova—”
“I know.” The words come out sharp. “I know we have to. Doesn’t mean I want you to.”
His hand is on my good shoulder now. Steady. “I know you don’t. But it’s been too long. If we don’t—”
“I said I know.”
Rane’s sitting up now. His hand on my back. Not saying anything. Just there.
Beckett looks at me for a long moment. Then he stands.
“I’m getting Locke.”
“What? No—”
“He’s stronger than me. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” He’s already heading for the door. “Don’t move.”
He’s gone before I can argue.
I sit there with Rane’s hand on my back and my shoulder throbbing and the weight of what’s about to happen sitting heavy in my chest.
“It’s going to suck,” Rane says quietly.
“I know.”
“But then it’ll be better.”
“I know that too.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
I close my eyes.
I know.
Footsteps on the stairs. More than one set.
My stomach drops.
The door opens and Locke walks in. Beckett right behind him. Then Kyron. Trey.
“What—” I look at Beckett. “I thought you were just getting Locke.”
“I got everyone.”
“Why?”
Locke’s already crossing to the bed. He sits in front of me. His eyes go to my shoulder and something in his face hardens.
“Because you need to be held still,” he says. His voice is calm. Too calm. “And you’re going to fight.”
“I’m not—”
“You will.” He looks at me. “It’s going to hurt. A lot. And your instinct is going to be to pull away. So we’re making sure you can’t.”
I want to argue. Want to tell him I can handle it. But the way he’s looking at me—the way they’re all looking at me—makes the words die in my throat.
“Okay,” I say instead.
Kyron moves to sit behind me. His legs on either side of mine. His chest against my back. “Lean into me.”
I do.
His arms come around my waist. Not tight. But I can feel the strength in them.
Trey sits on my left. Takes my good hand in both of his. “Squeeze as hard as you need to.”
Rane’s still on my right. His hand on my thigh now. Anchoring me.
Beckett’s at the foot of the bed again. Watching. His hands are shaking.
Locke is directly in front of me. Close enough that our knees are touching.
“I need you to relax,” he says.
“I can’t.”
His lips tilt up. “I know. But try anyway.”
I take a breath. Try to let the tension out of my shoulders. It doesn’t work.
Locke’s hand goes to my bad shoulder. Just resting there. Warm and steady.
“On three,” he says.
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
“One.”
I squeeze Trey’s hand. He squeezes back.
“Two.”
Kyron’s arms tighten around my waist.
Locke doesn’t say three.
He just moves.
The pain is—
I can’t—
I scream.
The sound rips out of me and I’m trying to pull away but Kyron’s holding me and Rane’s got my leg and Trey won’t let go of my hand and Locke is still moving, still adjusting, and the pain is white-hot and everywhere and I can’t breathe—
Then something pops.
The pain doesn’t stop. But it changes. Shifts from sharp and wrong to just—
Wrong.
I’m gasping. Tears streaming down my face. Kyron’s arms are so tight around me I can barely move.
“Done,” Locke says. His voice rough. “It’s done, sweetheart. It’s back.”
I can’t answer. Can’t do anything except shake and try to remember how to breathe.
Locke’s hand is still on my shoulder. Gentle now. “I know. I know it hurts. But it’s going to get better now.”
I nod. Or I think I do. I can’t tell.
Kyron’s loosening his grip. Just slightly. His mouth is against my hair. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
Trey’s still holding my hand. I look down and realize I’ve left marks. Deep red crescents where my nails dug in.
“Sorry,” I manage.
“Don’t.” His voice is tight. “Don’t apologize.”
Rane’s hand is still on my thigh. He hasn’t moved. Hasn’t said anything. But when I look at him his face is wet.
Beckett’s standing now. He looks like he might be sick.
Locke is still in front of me. Still close. His hand moves from my shoulder to my face. He’s gentle. His thumb wiping at tears I didn’t know I was still crying.
“Worst part’s over,” he says.
I want to believe him, but I’m not sure I do.
I nod anyway.
He pulls me forward. Carefully. His arms around me and my face against his chest and I just—
I let him hold me.
Because I can’t do anything else.