Kieran POV
The first time I saw Nova Sinclair, I knew she wasn't meant for this place.
Noctis Dominium eats people alive—chews 'em up, spits 'em out. And her? She walked in with her chin high, her uniform neat, eyes burning like she thought she was untouchable. Cute. Real fucking cute.
She was the type you looked at once and wrote off—too clean, too proud, too… normal. An omega trying to swim with sharks.
But then she did the one thing no one else had ever done. She stood up for herself.
I'll never forget it. That blonde leech—some desperate little thing practically drooling to get my attention—started tugging at my sleeve, making a scene in front of everyone. Normally, I'd let them embarrass themselves. Not Nova. She cut her off. Defended her—her—with fire in her voice like she had the right to.
It wasn't for me, though. That's the kicker. She wasn't trying to protect Kieran.She didn't give a shit about me. She just couldn't stomach the sight of another girl throwing herself away.
And that's when I knew she was different.
She wasn't scared of me. Not like the others. She wasn't dazzled either. She looked me in the eye like I was human. Or maybe like I was a monster, but one she could call out without blinking.
That shit stuck.
Then came the pairing. Of all the rotten luck, she got me. Poor little omega, standing in the woods with her knees locked like she'd rather eat glass than be next to me. And yet… she handled it.
I've broken alphas with less effort. Snapped betas in two just to watch them fold. But her? She stayed standing. She gave me that sharp tongue, those cutting words, like she thought she could match me.
God, it was infuriating. God, it was hot.
Every move she made screamed "out of place," and yet she refused to bend. That fire in her veins, that constant need to prove herself—fuck, it made me wanna test her, tear her down, see what it'd take to break her.
But every time I pushed, she pushed back harder. And I realized… I liked it.
I shouldn't. She's nothing. An omega. A Sinclair. A girl tangled in family bullshit and way too much pride. And yet—she's under my skin.
Now here she is again. Rooftop, wind in her hair, staring at me like I'm some puzzle she's dying to solve. She's not scared of the edge. She's not scared of me. She's curious. Too curious.
And that's the problem.
I've been telling myself she's just a hobby. Something new to keep me entertained. A shiny toy to poke at until it breaks. That's what I do—I burn through people. They want me reckless, cruel, untouchable. So that's what I give them.
But Nova?
She doesn't just want the show. She's looking past it.
And fuck me if that doesn't make her dangerous.
The wind tugged at my shirt as I leaned forward, toes curled against the ledge. One wrong step and I'd splatter across the courtyard. Maybe that was the point.
"You like tempting death, don't you?" Her voice was steady, but the undercurrent betrayed her. She hated how close I was to the drop.
I smirked without turning. "What's the matter, Sinclair? Hoping I'll jump?"
Silence. Then, "No. I'm wondering why you always stand there. Like you're waiting for someone to push you."
"You know this is my turf, right?" I call out, my voice lazy, sharp. "People don't come up here unless they've got a death wish."
She turns, arms crossed, chin tipped up like she's not already trembling inside.
" I'm not here to get caught up in your drama."
I grin, stalking forward until the wind whips between us. "Drama? Baby, this is me without the drama."
Her glare sharpens. "God, what is it with you guys?"
That catches me. "You guys?"
Her words spill out, raw and furious. "Yes—Damien, you, the whole damn lot of you strutting around this school like kings. Like every girl is supposed to fall to her knees because you smirk at her once. That girl at the fountain—you crushed her like she was nothing, and you didn't even blink. Do you even care what you do to people? Or are we all just toys to you?"
I laugh, low, dark, stepping closer until she's backed against the rail. "Toys? Maybe. But don't pretend you haven't thought about it. Don't pretend you don't look at me the way they do."
Her cheeks flush.
"You hate me, right? You want to spit on me, shove me, maybe push me off this ledge. But you can't walk away."
"I can," she hisses. But her voice betrays her.
That made me glance back. She was hugging her arms to her chest, her eyes fixed on me with something that wasn't fear. Curiosity. Concern.
Dangerous.
I dropped from the ledge, landing soundlessly. Her breath hitched as I prowled forward, forcing her back step by step until her spine pressed against the cool wall. I planted a hand beside her head, close enough that she had no room to escape.
"You always watch me, Sinclair," I murmured, letting my eyes drag slowly over her. "Why is that? Don't tell me it's just morbid fascination."
Her throat bobbed. "I'm trying to understand you."
I laughed, low and sharp. "Understand me? There's nothing to understand. I give people what they want to see."
Her brows furrowed. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"They want a villain,"
Her hands fisted at her sides. "You don't need to be one.It all an act."
I tilted my head, letting my lips hover inches from hers, watching her pupils dilate. "Careful, Sinclair. You sound like you think you know me."
I lean closer, my lips brushing the edge of her ear. "Walk away. Or admit you're standing here because some part of you wants to know what it feels like."
Her breath catches, her fists ball. "You're disgusting."
"Maybe," I murmur, thumb ghosting over her cheek."But tell me, Nova—if I'm so vile, why can't you stop looking at me?"
She opens her mouth to snap back—and freezes. Her eyes widen.
For a second, just one, the mask almost cracked. Fuck, she didn't even realize what she was inviting. My fingers brushed along her jaw, just enough to make her tremble.
And then—like lightning—something slipped. A spark. She saw it. I knew from the way her eyes widened.
"You—" she gasped, staring at me like she'd just looked straight into my bones. "You've… lost something. Haven't you?"
I froze. No one had ever—no one could.
"What. Did. You. See." My voice came out harsher than I meant, stripped raw.
"Pain," she whispered. "Loneliness. You lost someone."
Fuck. She saw too much. And still—she didn't back away.
I chuckled, masking the slip, leaning even closer so our lips hovered a breath apart. "Tell me, Sinclair. Do I look lonely now?"
Her breath stuttered. She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Because I already knew Damien was coming. I heard his footsteps, steady and cold, long before the door creaked.
So I lingered there—faces inches apart, her back against the wall, her pulse screaming against her throat.
Just enough to look like I was about to kiss her.
And that's when his voice slid in, quiet and deadly.
"Well. Isn't this cozy."