(Nova POV)
The message came at 9:17 p.m.
My phone lit up on the dorm desk while I was pretending to read curse theory notes that weren't sinking in. Damien's name on the screen made my pulse jump before I even opened it.
"10 PM. Squad complex. Alone. No squad."
No explanation.
No "be careful."
No softness.
Just the command.
The bond answered before my brain did—warm, urgent, tugging at my chest like a rope pulled taut. It had been restless all day, flaring every time I remembered yesterday's almost-kiss, the way his hand had lingered on my ribs, the way his eyes had burned when he said "I can't." I'd spent the evening trying not to think about it. Failing.
I typed back one word.
"Okay."
Hit send.
Then sat there, heart pounding, staring at the screen like it might take the message back.
I changed quickly—leggings, fitted tank, hoodie over top. Hair up in a messy knot. Sneakers. No makeup. No pretense. Just me.
