Chapter 30 Nova
Nova
The man in black is sitting in the back of the classroom.
I notice him the second we walk in. Vaelor does too—I feel his hand press briefly against my lower back, guiding me toward the front.
We don’t sit in the back today.
As we pass, the man’s eyes find mine. Lock on. Don’t let go.
Something crosses his face. Disgust. Like I’m something he scraped off his shoe.
I look away first. I hate that I do.
We take seats near the front. I’m still shivering when I sit down.
“Hey.” Vaelor leans over, voice low. “You alright?”
“Yeah. That guy, he’s…”
“Yeah. I know.” His jaw is tight. “I saw it.”
“What do you think—”
“I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out.” He holds my gaze. Steady. Sure. “Don’t worry.”
I nod. Try to believe him.
First vehicles show up a few days ago, now this?
What the hell is going on?
Class starts and I don’t hear a word of it.
The professor is talking about resonance theory—something about frequency alignment and proximity effects—but the words slide right past me. All I can feel is the weight of eyes on the back of my neck.
Vaelor shifts beside me. His shoulder presses against mine and stays there.
He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t say anything. Just… leans in. Solid and warm and there.
Some of the tension bleeds out of me and I lean into it.
I keep waiting for something to happen. For the man in the back to stand up, to say something, to point at me and announce whatever crime I’ve committed by existing.
He doesn’t. He just sits there. Watching.
Halfway through class, the weight disappears.
I don’t turn around to check. But I know. The air feels different. Lighter.
When class ends, I glance back.
The seat is empty. He’s gone.
The relief lasts about three seconds before the unease settles back in. He left. But he saw what he came to see.
“Come on.” Vaelor’s hand finds my back again. “Let’s get lunch. I’ll meet you at the table—need to drop something off first.”
I nod.
The dining hall is loud and bright and full of food.
I’m still not used to it. Two weeks of meals here and my brain still short-circuits every time I see the spread—stations for everything, trays piled high, people just… taking what they want. Like it’s nothing.
I grab a plate. Move through the line slowly, trying to actually think about what I want instead of what will keep me alive the longest.
There’s bread at the end of the station. Fresh, warm, the kind I used to grab first because it was filling and kept well and didn’t matter if it got stale.
I pass it.
I grab fruit instead. Some kind of pasta. A piece of chicken that looks actually seasoned for once.
It feels like a small victory. Choosing what I want instead of what I need.
I turn toward our usual table and spot them immediately. All of them except Vaelor—Locke at the end, Trey across from him, Rane and Kyron in the middle, Beckett with his back to the wall.
Locke’s eyes find mine across the room. Something in his expression softens.
I start walking toward them.
And then Silas steps into my path.
He’s just there, like he materialized out of the crowd. That same smile. That same look in his eyes that makes my skin crawl.
“So it’s true,” he says. “You’re back.”
I don’t respond. I shift my plate to one hand and try to step around him.
He moves with me. Blocking my path.
I go the other way. He mirrors it, smooth and unhurried, like we’re dancing and he’s leading.
My grip tightens on the plate. “Excuse me.”
“In a hurry?” He doesn’t move. “That’s a shame. We haven’t caught up in so long.”
“We’ve never caught up. We’ve never had a conversation.” I step left. He steps left. My jaw clenches. “Move.”
His smile widens. Like my anger is exactly what he wanted.
“There she is.” He tilts his head, studying me. “I was starting to think they’d housebroken you.”
I hold back a scoff.
“You can’t stop and talk to an old friend?” His smirk widens. “That’s rude.”
“We’re not friends.”
“No?” He tilts his head. “That’s too bad.”
He pauses. Looks down at me. Something shifts in his expression—darker, sharper.
Then he leans in.
His breath is warm against my ear. His voice is barely a whisper.
“They’re coming for you.”
I freeze.
“Say anything, and they’ll stop pretending your men are innocent.”
He pulls back. Smiling again. Like he didn’t just—
“What are you talking about?”
He smiles like it’s a secret he’s looking forward to watching me learn.
“You’ll see.”
“Is there a problem here?”
Trey’s voice. I turn and he’s right there, Locke and Rane flanking him. All three of them looking at Silas like they’re deciding how many pieces to leave behind.
“No.” Silas’s smile doesn’t waver. “No problem at all. Right, Nova?”
My throat is tight. I shake my head. “No. No problem.”
“Good.”
They lead me to the table and I let them. My legs feel like they’re made of something that isn’t quite solid.
I can feel Silas watching. I don’t look back, but I know. That sneer. Those eyes.
Then he’s gone.
My skin is too hot. My chest too tight. I blame the adrenaline. I tell myself it’s fear.
The burn doesn’t fade.
“What the fuck was that about?” Rane asks as I sit down.
I stare at my plate. “I ran into him again. Literally. I wasn’t paying attention.”
It’s the truth. Just not the whole one.
Locke’s watching me. That flat, assessing look that sees too much.
“Nova.”
“It’s fine.”
“It didn’t look fine.”
“He’s just—” I push a piece of pasta around my plate. “He’s Silas. He’s always like that.”
“Like what?” Trey’s voice is tight. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like he was threatening you.”
I open my mouth.
Say anything, and they’ll stop pretending your men are innocent.
I close it.
Beckett’s watching me. I catch his eye and see it there—the disappointment. Like he knows I’m holding something back and he’s waiting for me to trust them enough to let it out.
I look away.
“It’s fine, guys.” I put my fork down. “Really.”
No one says anything for a long moment.
Then Vaelor slides into the seat beside me. He takes one look at my face, at the tension around the table, and his jaw tightens.
“What happened?”
“Silas,” Locke says.
“Again?”
“Yeah.”
Vaelor’s hand finds my knee under the table. Squeezes once.
“Speaking of unwelcome attention,” he says slowly, “there was a man in our class today. Back of the room. Nightmare Order, from the look of him. He spent the whole time he was there staring at Nova.”
The table goes quiet.
“Same here.” Kyron’s voice is flat. “Different class. Same setup. Guy in black, back corner, watching.”
“Us too,” Rane says. He glances at Beckett, who nods.
“They were in all of our classes?” I ask.
“Looks like it.”
I push my plate away. My appetite is gone.
“So they’re watching all of us now.”
“They’re watching you.” Locke’s voice is hard. “We’re just in the way.”
Say anything, and they’ll stop pretending your men are innocent.
The burn in my chest spreads.
I don’t say anything.
And I pretend I don’t notice the way they all watch me like they’re waiting for something to break.