Chapter 32 Rane
Rane
The guys won’t shut up.
“You sure you don’t want to practice your bow again?”
“Maybe drop to one knee this time.”
“‘Would you do me the honor’—who even talks like that?”
“Shut up.” I adjust my collar for the fifteenth time. “All of you.”
Kyron’s grinning from the couch. Locke’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, but I can see the smirk he’s trying to hide. Even Beckett looks amused, which is annoying because this was partially his idea.
Footsteps on the stairs.
I turn.
Holy fuck.
I’m the luckiest man alive.
She’s wearing white. All white—leather pants that fit like they were made for her, a top that’s half lace and half something that makes my brain short-circuit, a silver chain at her throat. Her hair is down, soft waves catching the light. And her face—
She did something. Makeup, that’s it. Her eyes look bigger, her lips shiny and soft, and I can’t stop staring. Her heels hit the last step and I forget how to breathe.
My heart does something I’m not prepared for. Not just want. Something deeper. Like recognition.
“Rane?”
I blink. My mouth is open. I should probably close it.
“Oh my god, Nova.” My voice comes out rough. “You’re stunning.”
Her cheeks go pink. She doesn’t believe me—I can see it in the way she ducks her head, the way her shoulders curve in slightly.
“You lucky son of a bitch.” Kyron shakes his head. “Seriously.”
“Hey—you got to make out with her.” I shoot back. “Had her legs wrapped around you and everything.”
Nova’s turning redder by the second.
Locke pushes off the wall and crosses to her. He doesn’t say anything at first—just looks at her, something soft and serious in his expression. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek.
“We’re lucky men,” he says quietly. Gives her a small smile.
Then he turns, grabs something off the table, and throws it at Kyron’s head.
“Knock it off. Fucking neanderthals.”
Vaelor catches the projectile before it hits anyone. “He’s not wrong.”
I step forward. Hold out my hand.
“Ready?”
She looks at my hand. Then at me. Then she smiles—small and uncertain and absolutely devastating.
She takes my hand.
We walk.
The restaurant is exactly how I remember it.
Tiny. Six tables crammed into what used to be someone’s living room, mismatched chairs, candles stuck in old wine bottles. The kind of place you’d walk right past if you didn’t know it was there.
My mom used to bring me here when I was a kid. Every birthday. Every time something good happened—or something bad, and she wanted to remind me that good things still existed.
Maria sees me the second we walk in.
“Rane!” She comes out from behind the counter, arms already open. “It’s been too long. Too long!”
I let her hug me, kiss both my cheeks. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.” She pulls back, eyes moving to Nova. “And who is this?”
“This is Nova.” I can’t keep the pride out of my voice. “Nova, this is Maria. She and her husband own this place.”
Maria’s face does something complicated—surprise, then understanding, then warmth.
“Nova.” She takes both of Nova’s hands in hers. “Welcome. Any friend of Rane’s…” She glances at me, sees something in my expression, and her smile deepens. “Come. I have the perfect table.”
She leads us to the corner—the quiet one, away from the kitchen, where my mom and I always sat.
Nova slides into her seat and looks around, taking it in. The cracked plaster, the old photographs on the walls, the handwritten menu on the chalkboard.
“This place is…”
“I know.” I sit across from her. “It’s not fancy.”
“No, I—” She shakes her head. “I love it. It feels real.”
Something loosens in my chest.
Maria’s daughter appears—Lucia, maybe sixteen now, when did that happen—and takes our order. I get what I always get, spaghetti. Nova asks what’s good and orders alfredo.
When Lucia leaves, it’s just us.
Nova’s fidgeting with her napkin. I want to reach across and still her hands, but I also don’t want to spook her.
“So,” I say instead. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did you ever come around here? While you were… avoiding the system?”
She shakes her head. “I tried to stay away from anything the Nightmare Order was part of. And that included the Academy.”
“Makes sense.”
“Besides.” She shrugs, not quite meeting my eyes. “I knew I’d never be going to the Academy. So it didn’t make sense to come near here. I just focused on not getting caught. Staying invisible.”
The words land somewhere in my chest and stick there.
“How hard was it, Nova?”
“It wasn’t. Not really.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs again. “It’s all I’ve ever known. My memories with my parents, before they died—they’re not all there for some reason. And after, when I was on my own?” She picks at the edge of her napkin. “You get used to it, I guess.”
“That’s no way for a child to—”
“I know.” Her voice is soft but steady. “But it’s what was. So I learned. Made the most of it.”
I nod. I don’t want to push. Don’t want this to become something heavy and sad when she’s sitting across from me in white leather looking like a dream I didn’t know I was allowed to have.
The food comes. Lucia sets down plates with practiced ease—her mother’s recipes, the ones that haven’t changed in twenty years.
I watch Nova take her first bite. Watch her eyes close for just a second.
“Good?”
“Really good.”
I smile and pick up my fork.
But I’m not really thinking about the food. I’m looking at her—really looking. The way her face has filled out since she got here. The color in her cheeks. The brightness in her eyes that wasn’t there those first few days.
She looks healthier. Stronger. More here.
“How are you feeling about everything?” I ask.
She laughs, a little exasperated. “Which thing in particular?”
“Fair point.” I grin. “I don’t know—what’s bothering you the most?”
The smile fades. She pushes a piece of pasta around her plate.
“Well. It was Silas. But now…”
She trails off. Doesn’t finish.
I put down my fork and reach across the table. Take her hand.
“Whatever it is,” I say. “You can tell us… Tell me.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. I really can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because he said if I did—” She stops herself. Presses her lips together.
And just like that, the warmth in my chest turns to ice.
He said.
Silas said something to her. Threatened her. And she’s been carrying it alone because he made her think she had to.
I’m furious. Not at her—never at her—but at him. At the idea that he’s trying to isolate her from us. Trying to make her think she can’t trust the people who would burn the world down for her.
“Nova—”
“Can we talk about something else?” She pulls her hand back. Reaches for her water glass. “Please?”
I want to push. I want to demand she tell me everything so I can figure out how to fix it.
But this is a date. Our first date. And I don’t want to ruin it by making her feel cornered.
“Sure.” I pick up my fork again. “Tell me something good. Something you’re looking forward to.”
She blinks. Like the question surprised her.
“I don’t know,” she says slowly. “I’ve never really… thought about it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like there’s a future to look forward to.”
The words hit me somewhere deep.
“Nova…”
She looks down at her plate. I don’t want her to spiral. Don’t want this to become heavy when she’s sitting across from me looking like that.
“Well,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “I am very much looking forward to the looks on the guys’ faces when we get home and you’re still wearing that amazing outfit.”
I grin. She tries to hide a smile but doesn’t quite manage it.
“Did you pick it out?”
She shakes her head. “Zoe did.”
“How does it make you feel?”
She thinks for a second. Then the smile breaks through, real this time.
“Kinda like a badass.”
We both laugh.
She reaches across the table, straightens the fold of my sleeve. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.
We eat. We talk about smaller things—classes, the guys, Zoe’s latest unsolicited advice. Nova laughs at my terrible jokes. I steal a bite off her plate and she pretends to be mad about it.
It’s good. It’s easy.
But underneath, I can’t stop thinking about what she almost said.
Because he said if I did—
What? What did he threaten her with? What’s he holding over her head?
Dessert comes. Something chocolate that Maria insisted on, on the house. Nova eats half of it and then pushes the rest toward me with a shy smile.
“I’m glad you asked me,” she says quietly. “To come here. I’m glad I said yes.”
“Me too.”
I pay the bill. Maria hugs us both goodbye, makes me promise not to wait so long next time.
We walk back in the dark. Side by side, close enough that our shoulders brush.
I should let it go. I should leave it for tomorrow, let the guys help me figure out how to approach it.
But I can’t.
“Nova.”
She glances at me.
“Please.” I stop walking. Turn to face her. “Whatever Silas said to you—I need to know. We all do.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. I can see her wrestling with it—the fear, the instinct to protect us, the exhaustion of carrying it alone.
“He said they’re coming for me,” she says finally. Her voice is barely a whisper. “And if I tell any of you… they’ll stop pretending you’re innocent.”
The world tilts.
“What?”
“He said—” Her voice breaks. “He said they’ll come for you too. All of you. If I say anything.”
I’m going to kill him.
I’m going to find Silas and I’m going to wrap my hands around his throat and I’m going to—
“Rane.”
Nova’s looking at me. Eyes wide. Scared.
Not of Silas. Of me. Of what I might do.
I take a breath. Force my hands to unclench.
“Okay.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”
“You can’t—”
“I won’t do anything stupid.” I reach for her hand. She lets me take it. “But I’m not going to pretend I didn’t hear it. And I’m not going to let you carry this alone.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just squeezes my hand.
We walk the rest of the way in silence.
But my mind is racing. Planning. Figuring out how to tell the others without making her feel like she betrayed a secret.
She trusts us. She trusted me.
I’m not going to let that be a mistake.
He threatened her. He threatened all of us.
And he thinks we’re going to stay quiet?
He has no idea who he’s dealing with.
She trusted me. That means something.
So when they come, we’ll be ready.
Because no one touches what’s ours.