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 inour 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.
