When I was younger, the flood of all those emotions would’ve knocked me sideways, leaving me drowning in everyone else’s noise. My father had been useless, his demon power more connected with levitation and moving objects, but Ax—Nova’s dad—he’d seen me unraveling and took pity on me. He’d asked his dad, Manic Rossey, to train me.
Manic was ruthless when it came to controlling one’s powers, and Nova had naturally inherited an effortless control over her powers that others could only dream of. Her wolf and core self were so in tune that she could transform a single fingernail if she wanted. For me, it was blood, sweat, and years of clawing my way up to the kind of stillness I needed to be an asset.
Now, as the flood of emotions poured through me, I filtered it without a second thought. Rather than getting lost in the river of emotions, I grounded my stance and plucked at each pulse of emotion, following it back to its source and cataloging it. Most of them were fleeting—admiration, envy, fear. Nothing was sharp enough to signal real danger.
“You’re good,” I murmured, signaling that she could step in without worry.
She glanced at the booth in the back and threw her chin at it before making her way down the walkway. I almost told her we needed more cover, but I could already hear her answer in my head.Do you really think anyone would take me out here? No one touches the Syndicate and lives.
Her arrogance should’ve irritated me, and sometimes it did, but other times? It dragged heat through my chest, something that was equal parts pride and hunger. The only ones who completely understood that edge of hers were her siblings, each of whom were unhinged in their own right. Out of them all, Nova was the sanest one.
We slid into the back booth, her claiming the corner seat that put her back to the wall and left her facing the door. That was how we worked. She called the shots, and I executed them. Clean, simple. Except for the fact that I noticed the way heads tilted toward her, their eyes following. She was in a room full of predators, and although she made it seem like she didn't notice, she really just didn't care. She could slice up this whole room, tearing out hearts before they knew what was happening.
It took a few minutes for the bartender to finally come over, wearing a permanent fuck-you scowl, except her emotions radiated excitement, even admiration.
My lips turned down, but Nova, cheerful as ever, asked for a vodka tonic with extra lime, winking at her like they were best friends. I ordered a local beer under my breath, though it felt like an afterthought.
As the bartender left, Nova pulled out her phone and started up some game, feigning nonchalance. Like she’d said, no one wanted to fuck with the Syndicate, so she had to try to make herself look approachable.
The drinks came fast. The server nearly managed a smile when she set Nova’s glass down. Nova murmured her thanks as my beer was set down in front of me. I took a sip first, letting that initial jolt of alcohol tingle across my tongue before the effect wore off a second later. The curse of being a supe. Our bodies processed human alcohol in an instant.
The woman turned to leave, but Nova’s voice cut through the noise.
“Hey. Do you know anyone who goes by the name Jeremy Delton?”
The server froze mid-step, every muscle locking tight. “I—I don’t know who that is.”
Nova leaned forward, her untouched drink gleaming under the dim light. Her smile turned sharp, a warning in her eyes. “That didn’t sound convincing. Why don’t you sit down and tell me everything you know before I get angry?”
Whatever admiration the woman had for Nova bled out in an instant, replaced by raw, sour fear that settled deep in my bones. Sifting through the emotion, I could tell it was tangled up with more than just Nova’s presence. She knew something.
Nova slid a magic-forged gun from her side and laid it on the table. Her finger traced along the barrel, tongue flicking over her lip. “Now, I don’t want to use this on you. You were sweet enough to get me a drink, but I need the information in your head. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Up to you, sweetheart.”
Oh, shit. She was pissed. “Sweetheart” only came out when she was done playing games.
A man’s voice suddenly cut in. “Why don’t you leave the poor girl alone? Jemma, get to the other customers. I’ll talk to Miss Rossey.”
I turned to see a dark-haired werewolf, late fifties maybe, scowling at us like we’d pissed in his beer. No fear came off him, just a weighted acceptance for what was to come, like a man who’d survived too many fights to ever be scared of violence. He was probably the owner since he slid into our booth with the air of someone who belonged there. “What do you want with Jeremy? He’s a good boy.”
My fingers flexed, wanting to scratch that itch and introduce his face to the table for even thinking he could be eye-to-eye with her, but Nova lifted her hand, telling me to stop, and sipped her drink instead. “I never said he wasn’t. He was last seen with someone else, and that someone’s family wants him back.”
The wolf’s mouth split open in a hollow laugh. “Since when has the Syndicate ever cared about missing family members and lost boys?”
The urge to smash in his teeth burned hot, but Nova didn’t rise to the bait.
“We care plenty.” Her calm, carefree voice gave off the illusion that she was just talking about the weather, but when her eyes flashed, you could see the lethal beast just under the surface. “As long as they’re part of our Syndicate family, we care a whole hell of a lot.”
“Jeremy isn’t one of yours.” His arms crossed, his glare screaming he wasn't afraid of her, but I caught the tremor in his hand and the nervousness behind his bravado. I gave Novathe nod. She smiled, took another slow drink, and pulled up her phone.
“Maybe not, but Reece Waltonis.” She slid the screen across the table with his picture on it. “Now, tell me… did Jeremy come in with his new friend?”
The wolf hesitated.
Nova sighed, her patience snapping. In one smooth flash, she pulled out her pocket knife and drove it straight through his hand. His howl tore through the bar, the sound almost comical for a man his size. A few people stood up, but I pulled out my gun and aimed it at them, warning them not to get involved.
Her smile was razor-sharp. “I’ll ask again,good sir. Did you see Reece Walton with him or not?”
He nodded frantically, eyes locked on the silver knife still jutting from his flesh. The skin around the blade shriveled as the smell of burnt flesh filled the room. Nova smiled and lifted her glass to him in salute. “This is quite good.”
