Nova's knuckles were white on the door handle. Just getting to the door had felt like a small battle—wrestling her heavy belly upright, the ache in her back, the way her breath caught if she moved too fast. The knock had sounded harmless. Her heart had whispered: *Hope's back early.*
She opened it, smiling by reflex.
And froze.
Allison Argent. Scott McCall.
The smile fell off her face like glass shattering. First shock, then disbelief, then the heat of betrayal tearing back open. Her breath hitched; the wolf in her bristled.
She slammed the door so hard the frame rattled.
"No. No, no, no." She stumbled backward, hand splayed over her bump as if she could shield the twins from memory itself. The room wobbled. She waddled as quickly as she could toward the bed, fumbling for her phone. Her fingers shook so badly she almost dropped it twice before the screen finally connected.
"Lydia," she sobbed the instant her friend picked up. "They're here—Allison and Scott. Right outside my room. Hope's out—she's not here. I'm alone, I—"
"Nova, listen to me." Lydia's voice was steady but taut, like a string pulled tight. "Lock the door. Sit down if you can. Breathe for me, okay? I'm calling Hope right now. Do not engage."
"I—okay—" Nova swallowed hard. Her free hand dug into the mattress to lower herself, too slow, too careful. "Please hurry."
A crack split the air like a gunshot.
Nova whipped around. The door shuddered under a second blow, then burst inward, the lock skidding across the floorboards. Splinters sprayed like angry bees.
Allison stepped over the threshold first—dark hair shining, eyes soft in a way that used to make Nova melt. Scott followed, hands lifted as if that could soften the trespass.
Nova lurched to her feet on instinct. "Get out." The words came rough, raw.
"Nova, please," Scott said, palms out. "We just want to talk. We're not here to hurt you."
"You already did." Her voice broke. Tears stung hot. The wolf inside her uncoiled, red Alpha eyes flickering through the gloss of grief. "Get. Out."
Allison's mouth trembled. "Nova... baby. You were mine once. We were *us.* You don't belong here with—" a flinch of disdain "—*her.*"
The insult struck marrow-deep. Hope's name, flattened into a weapon.
"Don't you dare talk about her," Nova snapped, voice rising despite the way her body begged for calm. "Hope is my family. She stayed when you left me bleeding."
Scott flinched but straightened, stubbornness settling in. "That isn't fair. I didn't betray you."
Nova's laugh came out cracked and ugly. "I *walked in,* Scott." She jabbed a shaking finger at him, at Allison. "I saw you. I *saw you* with her."
Color drained from Allison's face, then anger flushed back. "I was confused. You were always so intense, Nova—"
"So you crawled into my ex-brother's bed?" she spat. "That's a hell of a therapy plan."
Scott's jaw worked. "It wasn't like that."
"It was exactly like that," Nova said, shaking. A ripple of tightness gripped her belly—sharp enough to make her gasp. She pressed her palm to her bump, steadying herself, refusing to show weakness. *Not now. Don't let them see.*
Scott took a small step forward. "We're here to apologize."
"No," Allison countered, eyes cutting to Hope's side of the room with a curl of contempt. "I'm here because you still love me. Because this—" she gestured around, then at Nova's stomach "—this isn't you, Nova. *She* isn't you. Hope's dangerous. She's—"
"Finish that sentence," Nova hissed, "and I swear—" Another pang tightened across her belly. She winced but smothered it quickly, forcing her face to harden. "Don't you *ever* talk about Hope like that. She is the safest thing that's ever happened to me. She is my *home.*"
Scott lifted his hands higher, defensive. "We're not your enemies—"
"You're not my anything," Nova cut in, voice going flat as stone. "You had me. Both of you. And you threw me away."
Allison's eyes shone. "I made a mistake. We both did. But we can fix it—"
"No." Nova's chin lifted. "You don't get me back. You don't get to break me and then decide you're ready to love me again. I'm done being the thing you pick up when you're bored."
Allison's softness curdled. "She's using you."
Nova's temper snapped, clean and bright. "Say one more word about Hope and see what happens."
"Nova—" Scott started.
"Shut up!" she roared. The lights flickered. The window panes trembled. The air itself seemed to bristle against her anger. "You don't get to defend it. You don't get to stand there like a hero when you ripped me in half."
Her abdomen clenched again, stronger this time. Nova bit her lip and forced herself not to react, hiding the pain as best she could. *They can't know. They don't get to see me weak.*
"Look at you," Allison said, voice wobbling, reaching like a hand under a door. "You're stressed. You're shaking. This is what she does to you—and I could be the better choice. Let me raise the twins with you, Nova. Not her. Me."
Nova laughed—a short, wild sound. "This is what you do to me. And hear me now—these twins are Hope's and mine. You will never be part of their lives, Allison. Not now, not ever."
Boots thundered in the hall.
"Move," Derek growled as he shouldered into the ruined doorway. Red eyes, clenched fists. Stiles skittered behind him, surprisingly steady, followed by Lydia, Malia, Isaac—then Lizzie, Josie, Penelope, MG, Kaleb, and two younger students who took one look at Nova's face and went wide-eyed and still.
Stiles pointed to the splintered door. "There's your exit. Use it."
Lizzie's smile was sugar over broken glass. "Insult our family one more time, and I'll personally turn you into a lawn ornament."
Malia bared her teeth. The sound rumbling from her throat wasn't human.
Allison's gaze darted from the pack to Nova. "You can't possibly think this is healthy," she said, gesturing to the protective wall of bodies. "They're trapping you."
Lydia was at Nova's side in three strides, arms around her shoulders. Nova collapsed into the hug, shaking—but when her stomach tensed again, she pressed her lips together and said nothing. She would not give Allison or Scott the satisfaction.
"I told you to leave," Nova rasped, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't want your apologies. I don't want your excuses. I want you gone."
Scott looked almost wounded. "You don't mean that."
"I do," she said softly. "I mean every word."
Allison's eyes pleaded. "Nova—"
"Leave," Derek said, final and low.
Silence hummed, taut as wire. The room felt balanced on a blade.
And then the air changed.
It started as a pressure in the walls, a gathering weight that made the hair on every arm rise. Magic prickled like static. Somewhere down the corridor, a door slammed open. Then another. Footsteps—measured, inexorable—struck the floor with the rhythm of a verdict.
The ruined doorway darkened with a shadow.
Hope Mikaelson stepped inside.
Her eyes burned—wolf gold, her fangs were just visible; power poured off her in waves that made the plaster crack. She looked at Scott, then Allison, and in that quiet cataloging there was a promise of ruin.
"Step away from her," she said, voice low and even. Each word landed like a hammer. "Now."
Scott's throat bobbed. "Hope—"
"Don't say my name," Hope replied without looking away from his eyes. She moved—no, *flowed*—past the wall of pack and squad, and they parted instinctively. She stopped just short of Nova, angling herself to be the shield and the sword at once. "You broke down our door while she's on bed rest. You stressed her into tears. You insulted the mother of my children in our home." Her head tipped, the smallest, deadliest fraction. "Explain why you're still breathing in this room."
Allison's face faltered, steel returning by force. "Because she deserves to hear me."
"She did," Hope said. "And she told you to leave."
Allison's gaze flicked to Nova. "You don't have to be afraid of her."
Nova's laugh was soft and incredulous. "I'm not." She touched Hope's wrist; Hope's fingers turned and laced with hers without shifting her stance. "I'm afraid of *you.* Of this. Of what you both do to me just by existing in my doorway." Another tightening curled through her belly, but she forced her smile sharp and defiant. "Hope doesn't make me small. She makes me safe."
Scott tried again, stubborn to the last. "We were a pack once."
"We were," Nova agreed. "And then you taught me what family isn't."
The corridor outside filled with new shadows—Hayley and Freya at the edge of sight, Klaus and Elijah farther back, the watching court of Mikaelsons held in a very specific kind of stillness. No one interfered. No one needed to. The choice was already made.
"Last chance," Hope said, and there was nothing but winter in her tone. "Walk out."
Allison's jaw set. "You can't keep her from us."
Hope's smile did not reach her eyes. "Watch me."
Scott's shoulders sagged with something like beaten pride, and for a breath Nova thought—*finally.* But then he shot one more pleading look at her, as if the weight of every mistake might be undone by a single glance.
Nova's reply was a tiny shake of her head. No.
Stiles cleared his throat into the hush. "So... that lawn ornament option? Because I brought a shovel."
"Stiles," Lydia said without turning.
"Right. Shutting up."
Allison drew herself up, broke eye contact first, and stepped backward. Scott followed, hesitating at the threshold where the door used to be. He looked back one last time. Nova had already turned toward Hope.
They were gone.
For three heartbeats, no one moved. The only sound was Nova's breathing and the distant, fading echo of retreating footsteps.
Then Hope turned, her fury slamming shut behind her eyes like a vault. She cupped Nova's face, scanning, smelling, counting breaths the way only she could.
"Are you hurting?" Hope asked, too calm not to be terrified.
Nova's mouth wobbled. She nodded once, then shook her head, words tumbling out broken. "Just... just stress. I'll be okay." She pressed her lips together, hiding the truth of the ache curling through her stomach. Not now. Not yet. She doesn't need to know.
Hope's forehead pressed to hers, a breath of promise between them. "I know," she said. "And I'm here."
She kissed the tears off Nova's cheeks as the room shifted into motion around them—orders carried, doors sealed, footsteps fading. The storm had passed. A different one, maybe, was beginning.
Nova clung to her, smiling shakily through the pain she refused to name. Hope's hand slid to her bump, steady and sure.
"Breathe with me," Hope murmured, eyes never leaving Nova's. "In, two, three. Out, two, three. I've got you."
And for the first time since the knock, Nova truly believed it.