NOVA

He was still too close.

Nova kept her back against the door and her face neutral and told herself the heat she felt had nothing to do with the man standing two feet in front of her. Bad lighting. Long travel. Low blood sugar. Pick one.

"Don't tell me", Caden said, something shifting at the edge of his voice, "you're into men."

She stared at him.

He stared back, reading her face the way he read everything. Patient. Unhurried. Like he had a filing system in his head and was deciding which drawer she belonged in.

He thinks that's what this is. Fine. Let him. It was the wrong conclusion, and it was a thousand times better than the right one.

He can't feel the pull. The mask was doing its job. No scent, no signal, nothing to tell him what his wolf should be recognising. He just saw a freshman acting strange in a dorm room and landed on the first explanation that fit.

She could work with that.

"I'm not into anything right now," she said. "I'm tired. I've been travelling for three days. I'm not used to shared rooms." She gestured between them at the space that wasn't enough of it. "This."

"This."

"The whole." Another vague gesture. "Situation."

He looked at her for another second, then something in his posture shifted. He stepped back. Not far, but enough. He picked the shirt off the bunk and held it loosely at his side without putting it on, because apparently that was just a permanent state of affairs she was going to have to accept.

"All right, kitten." Easier now. Decided. "Roommate privilege." He nodded toward the bathroom. "you can use the shower first."

"I'm fine."

"You just got here. Three days on the road." He said it plainly, with no edge to it. "Hot water, clean clothes. You'll feel better."

"I said I'm fine."

"We're going to be in this room together for a year." Still that same flat tone, like he was discussing a training schedule. "We're going to see each other in worse states than this. Might as well start normal." The corner of his mouth moved. "Want help getting those off?"

Every thought Nova had stopped at once.

For approximately one second, she saw it in full. His hands were at her collar. The binding underneath. The look on his face when he realised. The end of everything she'd spent four months building.

She made a sound she would never admit to making.

"No." She got that out. "No, I was just-why shower now, specifically? that's my question. Why now and not later? Or honestly never, I'm not big on showers; I go weeks sometimes, months, it's a preference thing, some people find it - the smell you noticed earlier, by the way, that's probably just me, I love the smell, you'll have to adjust to it -"

Caden's expression changed.

Not slowly. All at once, the way a door closes.

He took one full step back. Then another. His eyes moved over her with something that looked, genuinely, like physical discomfort.

"Stop." Flat. Final. He pointed at the bathroom without looking at it, eyes still on her face like he was trying to figure out if she was serious. "Shower. Before I get back." He grabbed his jacket off the chair.

"I just said -"

He went out the window.

Not the door. The window. Second floor. Gone.

Nova stood in the empty room.

She waited. Counted to ten.

Then she sat down on the bottom bunk, pressed her face into her hands, and laughed until her ribs hurt. Quiet, shoulders shaking, completely undignified. She has never seen someone run so fast because of a little dirt.

She lifted her head. Breathed. Looked at the open window.

Scared him off that easily.

She lay back on the bunk and stared up at the slats above her.

Please let him stay gone tonight. She closed her eyes. Actually, forever. Transfer. Expulsion. Voluntary relocation to a different continent.

Her wolf did that pressing thing again.

"I know," she said to the ceiling. "I'm aware. It doesn't help."

*************************************************************************

She was at the meal hall at six forty.

Early enough that the kitchen staff still looked annoyed about being awake and late enough that the worst of the hot food was gone. She grabbed what was left, found the end of the last table, back to the wall, clear line to both doors. Old habit. Eat fast, head down, and give nobody a reason to look too long at her.

She was doing fine until she heard them.

Four males, second-years by their size and the easy way they took up space, were three tables over. The one at the centre had a wide jaw and the kind of grin that meant he'd already decided how his morning was going to go. His name, she'd clocked from the intake board; she'd memorised her first hour here, was Bren. The others she'd tagged were Dex, Calloway, and a fourth one she hadn't placed yet, who laughed loudest at everything.

"Fresh intake finally made it to the hall." Bren didn't lower his voice. Wasn't for his friends. "Took long enough."

Nova ate her eggs.

"Remember when we were that small?" Dex said, leaning back. "Actually, no. We weren't."

More laughing.

She kept eating.

The bench scraped. Bren stood up. She tracked it in her peripheral vision and kept her eyes on her plate.

He came around the tables and stopped at the end of hers. Tray in hand, grin cranked up. Close; he was bigger than he'd looked from across the room.

"Morning, little guy." Warm. Almost friendly. "You find your way okay? Signs are high up. Hard when you're close to the ground."

She looked up at him.

Looked back at her food.

He laughed and turned back to his group, and she caught it. That small shift. The upgrade. The decision.

Two seconds.

The tray tilted over hers. Food hit her shoulder, her chest, and the table. Metal on stone, loud. The hall around them went quiet in patches.

"Whoa." Hands up. Eyes wide. "Didn't see you. You're what, five foot nothing? Basically invisible. His friends were already laughing. "Let me sort that out."

He picked up his cup.

She watched it. Didn't move.

Cold milk hit her left shoulder, ran down her arm, and dripped off her elbow onto the bench.

Bren set the cup down in front of her. Gentle. Considered. "There. Now everyone can see you."

Laughter from two tables. Calloway said something about intake standards she didn't fully catch.

Nova looked at her arm.

Looked at the cup.

Looked at her hands, flat on the table.

Ash Darvin. She ran it through her head once, firmly. Just stay quiet; you are not here to put second-years through the floor before breakfast. Her wolf had a different opinion. She told it to sit down.

She started cleaning up the tray.

Bren was still there, waiting for whatever reaction would make the story better later. She gave him nothing. Just moved methodically through the mess, with the same focus she gave a sparring drill, and felt him getting bored with the lack of response.

She reached for the cup.

The hall changed.

No sound. Just that shift in air pressure she'd learnt yesterday to recognise. Sixty people orienting toward the same point without deciding to, conversations cutting off mid-sentence, and attention pulling like something magnetic had walked through the door.

Her shoulders went tight.

She turned.

Caden stood in the entrance. No tray. One hand in his pocket. Dark eyes moved across the hall, the way they moved across everything, slow and taking stock, until they found her specifically.

They stopped.

Took in the wet shoulder. The overturned tray. Bren, still standing at the end of her table with her cup and her grin and her three friends behind her.

Caden's face didn't move.

But Bren's grin did.

It didn't disappear. It just got careful around the edges, like something that wanted to stay but wasn't sure it should.

NOVA

Pine cleaner. That is the first thing that hits you. Pine cleaner and the smell of sixty wolves who didn't know each other yet, all crammed into the same hallway. They were all making noise and taking up space because they didn't know who they needed to be afraid of or who they did have to spend the rest of their training with as roommates.

Nova kept her bag on her shoulder and her eyes on the road.

Around her, conversations blend.

"Voss is actually staying in the block this year; I heard it from -"

"No chance. Why would he?"

"Crown Pack connections, that's why. Someone said he's -"

She tuned it out.

Crown Pack.

Her jaw tightened. That was her father's whole play, wasn't it? The grand alliance. The thing he'd decided was worth more than seven fights won clean. He'd looked at her standing over Garrett's body in the dirt and seen a bargaining chip, not a successor. Packed her future into a marriage contract and handed it to strangers.

And now those strangers were apparently in her corridor.

Stay away from anyone with Crown Pack ties. Day one rule. That should be easy, right?.

She found the room number. Stopped. Checked it against the sheet.

Checked it again.

Her brain, apparently, was in the business of wishful thinking, wishing that she did get the room to herself alone.

She pushed the door open.

Narrow room. Bunk beds on either side, one window splitting the back wall, and a bathroom door hanging open on the right. Fine. Standard. Manageable.

Then she saw the man at the far side of the bunk with his back to her, one hand fishing a shirt out of his bag -

Not manageable, not manageable at all.

He turned around.

One second. That was all Caden Voss needed to look at her before the corner of his mouth did that thing. That slow, unbothered thing.

"Evening, roomie."

Nova said nothing; this was far from manageable. This was worse.

He dropped the shirt on the bunk. Didn't pick it up. Just stood there, arms loose, training pants sitting low on his hips, watching her with the particular calm of someone who'd never once had to fill a silence because silences tended to fill themselves around him.

Her eyes went to his chest.

No, they didn't.

She looked at the wall behind him.

"Put a shirt on."

"My room," taking one step after the other toward her. "My rules."

"We're sharing it."

"Yeah." Another step. "Doesn't change anything for me."

Her back hit the door.

She hadn't felt him reach past her to close it. Hadn't registered his arm, his hand, the soft click of the latch. Which meant she'd been looking at his face the whole time and hadn't noticed anything else, which was a problem she was going to deal with later when she wasn't currently dealing with this.

"Why did you close that?"

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

Close now. Close enough that she had to tip her chin up to hold his gaze, which she hated, and close enough to feel the heat off his skin, which she hated more. He ran warm. Of course he did. Deeply unhelpful. Filed and never to be thought about again.

Something shifted inside her chest. Low. Urgent. Her wolf was pressing forward like it recognised something her brain hadn't caught up to yet.

He's my mate?

The thought detonated.

No. She shoved it back hard. Sit down. Not him. Not here. Not ever.

But it didn't move. Just sat there, solid and certain, the way Cass had described it once - they'd been sixteen, lying on the cottage floor, talking about things neither of them believed would actually happen to them. 'You'll just know,' Cass had said. Like recognising a word you've always known but never seen written down.

Nova knew.

She wished she didn't.

His eyes moved over her face. Reading something. She kept it blank and felt him reading the blankness too.

"Something's off with you, kitten." Quiet. Almost like he was talking to himself.

He can't feel it. The mask kills the scent. He doesn't know what he's looking at. He just thinks you're weird.

"You're imagining things," she said.

He looked at her for a long moment.

"Am I?"

Not a question. Worse than a question.

She held his gaze and said nothing, and her wolf pressed against her ribs like it was trying to get out and introduce itself, and she told it, firmly and internally, that if it did that, she would never forgive either of them.

She put the cup back on Bren's tray herself.

Didn't slam it. Didn't make a thing of it. Just picked it up off the table in front of her and set it down on his tray like she was tidying up after a child.

Then she got to her feet.

Bren was still there. Still working out what Caden's walking in meant for his morning. The grin hadn't left his face, but it had gone stiff at the corners, the kind of stiff that happens when someone's smiling because they started smiling and now they can't figure out how to stop without it meaning something.

His boys had gone quiet.

"Here's the thing," Nova said. She wasn't loud about it. Loud would've been wrong. "If you actually want a fight, you can just say that. Saves everyone time."

She looked at the milk drying on her sleeve.

"All this is a lot of work that makes you look like someone who's scared to go on the battle ground."

The grin dropped; it fell right off his face.

Bren took a step toward her, and she didn't move back. Not one inch. She stood there with her hands loose at her sides and watched him come, and something about how she was standing must've registered because he stopped before he closed the distance. His eyes went over her once, quickly, the way you look at something when you're trying to figure out if you misjudged the size of it.

"You've got some mouth on you," he said.

"You poured milk on me," she said. "At breakfast. Like a child."

The table beside them had stopped talking entirely. Someone near the back wall had turned around on their bench to watch.

Dex said something low to Calloway. Calloway didn't answer.

Bren's jaw went tight. This morning had not gone where he'd planned it, and she could see him working through that, deciding what came next, and she was genuinely curious which way he'd land when a voice came from behind her left shoulder.

"Any problem here with my roomate?"

One word. Caden's voice.

She hadn't heard him cross the room. He was just there suddenly, standing beside her table, not between her and Bren, just present in the way a wall is present. The whole hall felt it. Half the room had already looked up before he'd finished the sentence.

Bren looked at him.

Something moved across his face fast. Pride, calculation, and a decision made and then unmade and then made again differently.

"Voss." His voice went easy and smooth, the tone of someone who's practised at switching gears. "I didn't know he was with you. Honest mistake, I would've left it alone if I'd known."

Caden didn't say anything for a moment.

Then: "Save it."

That was all. No follow-up, no look that lingered. He just said it and stood there, and Bren picked up his tray, said something quiet to Dex, and the four of them walked off toward the far end of the hall without a backwards glance.

Nova turned to Caden.

"I had it."

"Yeah."

"So why'd you step in?"

He looked at her. That same slow, working-something-out look he'd been giving her since yesterday. "You floor Bren in here; today, day two, they write it up. That's your first flag before you've done one real session. Fight him in training, and nobody writes a thing." He picked up her overturned tray and put it on the rack. "Pick your ground."

Nova opened her mouth.

Closed it.

He wasn't wrong. She hated that he wasn't wrong.

"I'm not going down," she said. "Not to him. Not to anyone in here."

He looked at her for a beat.

"We'll see," he said.

Not nasty. Not a challenge. Just something he hadn't decided yet.

The ceiling speakers crackled.

All trainees to the training grounds. Now. Full gear. This is not a drill.

The hall came apart. Benches scraped back all at once, trays left where they sat, the whole room moving for the doors in that fast, instinctive way of wolves who know what immediately means when someone senior says it. The air changed. That sharp, electric thing that happens when a room full of predators all hear the same sound at the same time.

Nova was already on her feet.

Caden fell into step beside her. She hadn't asked him to.  He just matched her stride as they pushed through the doors and out into the cold morning and walked like they'd been walking together for years.

"Looks like you won't have to wait long," he said.

She said nothing back.

Her wolf had gone still in a way that had nothing to do with calm. That restless pressing thing from the dorm room was gone. What was there instead was older and quieter and she knew it well. She'd felt it seven times in her father's yard, right before the fight started, when her body had already finished deciding and was just waiting on the rest of her to catch up.

She pulled her jacket's zip up against the cold.

Whatever was on that training ground, she was ready.

Probably.