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.·:*¨༺𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞༻¨*:·.
☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴᴛʀᴜᴅᴇʀs
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@LILLYOFTHEVAIIEY
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                      𝓣he air in Luna Mae's bedroom was thick with tension. Moonlight spilled in through the half-cracked window, casting long stripes of silver across the floor as Luna paced like a caged animal. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, her bare feet silent on the hardwood, but her mind was anything but quiet. If her heart still worked like it used to—if it pumped blood instead of dead silence through her body—it'd be thrashing in her chest like a caged bird.

Nova sat cross-legged on Luna's bed, arms draped over a pillow, her green contact-covered eyes tracking Luna with a growing sense of annoyance. "Lu," she said, slow and tired, "you've got to stop. You're going to wear a hole in the floor."

Luna didn't stop. "I can't," she hissed. "I can't stop thinking about him."

Nova raised an eyebrow. "Still? Luna, you were nearly feral in our living room five hours ago. You almost drained the poor guy."

"I know," Luna snapped, frustrated, pressing her fingertips to her temple. "I know, okay? But I don't know why I feel like this. I don't understand why he's all I can think about." Her voice softened, barely more than a whisper. "Aren't you even a little curious about them?"

Nova hesitated. Her fingers stilled against the pillow. "Yeah," she admitted, almost reluctantly.

"And they didn't try to hurt us," Luna said quickly, stopping to face her. Her blue eyes were wide with conviction. "They could've. But they didn't. And Embry—"

Nova sighed, tipping her head back with an exaggerated groan. "He also cut himself open like a dumbass in your kitchen."

"I know." Luna ran her hands through her hair. "I didn't feel threatened. I felt... betrayed. Because he knew what that would do to me. And he still did it. He could've gotten himself killed. I could've killed him." She swallowed hard. "And he knew that."

Nova flopped onto her back. "Look, maybe he's an idiot. Maybe they both are. But obsessing over it isn't going to change what happened." She lifted her head slightly. "Let's just watch a movie. Something stupid and violent so I don't have to think."

Luna nodded, distracted. "Okay."

"Good," Nova said, hopping off the bed. "I'll grab the DVDs from downstairs. Don't disappear."

But as soon as Nova's footsteps faded down the stairs, Luna crossed the room in a blur. She threw the window open and vaulted through it with vampire grace, landing silently on the roof below. Her body moved before her brain caught up—drawn forward by something deep and unnameable. She couldn't explain it. She just knew she had to find him.

Even without a heartbeat, something was pulling her toward Embry Call like a current under the surface.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Nova flicked through a stack of DVDs on the bookshelf, muttering to herself. "Final Destination... too gory. Legally Blonde... too pink. Ah—Shaun of the Dead. Perfect."

She turned to go back upstairs, DVDs in hand, only to stop dead at the open bedroom window.

She stared.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she groaned, setting the movies down and muttering under her breath as she rushed out the window.

Outside, the scent trail was fresh, and unmistakable.

"Seriously, Lu," Nova hissed into the night, "what the hell is going on with you?"

────୨ৎ────

                     Nova landed on the rooftop soundlessly, crouching like a cat beside the shingles before straightening up. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and her expression was already somewhere between exasperation and full-on "I'm-going-to-throttle-you." She didn't say anything at first, just stared at Luna Mae, who sat cross-legged near the roof's edge, chin in her hands, eyes scanning the treeline like she was waiting for her prince to come galloping out of the pines.

"Lu," Nova finally whispered, stepping closer, "they're not even here. The house is empty. Come on. Let's go home."

Luna didn't move. Her body was still, her eyes far away, like she was listening to something Nova couldn't hear.

"They're in the woods," Luna whispered, as if that explained everything. "I think."

Nova's mouth dropped open. "You think?" she hissed. "You dragged me across town, climbed on top of a guy's house like a stalker raccoon, because you think he's somewhere in the trees?"

Luna lifted one shoulder in a sheepish shrug, not bothering to look over. "Just give it twenty minutes."

Nova's jaw tensed. "Twenty minutes?! I may be dead, but I still have a life bitch."

Luna turned to her with that maddening soft look in her eyes, the one that made it impossible to stay mad at her for more than ten seconds. "Fifteen?"

Nova narrowed her eyes. "You're pushing it."

"Ten?" Luna grinned, eyes hopeful, like she hadn't almost tackled a werewolf yesterday in front of the fridge.

Nova groaned and flopped down beside her, crossing her legs with a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But only because I don't feel like dragging your undead ass back through the woods again. And if a neighbor sees us, I'm blaming it all on you and your teenage hormone spiral."

Luna's smile grew. "Thanks, Nova."

"Yeah, yeah." Nova plucked a stray leaf from her sleeve and muttered, "ten minutes. And I swear, if they're out there doing something dumb like chasing squirrels, we're never speaking of this again."

The two girls sat there on the roof in silence, the wind brushing past, the trees rustling below, and the moon high above them—waiting.

Ten minutes later—almost to the second—Luna perked up like a bloodhound catching scent. Her eyes locked on the dark treeline at the edge of the yard, her undead heart giving a phantom lurch in her chest.

"There they are," she whispered smugly, nudging Nova with her elbow and nodding toward the clearing.

Nova followed her gaze, squinting through the shadows. Sure enough, two figures emerged from the woods, stepping over branches and weaving through the trees like they owned the forest. Embry Call and Paul Lahote, barefoot, shirtless, and wearing nothing but wrinkled pajama pants. Their chests glistened faintly with leftover dew and their hair was wild from the wind. They were talking about something—laughing, actually—and completely unaware of the two girls crouched on the roof, watching them like predators stalking prey.

Luna's grin widened. "Told ya."

Nova arched a brow and crossed her arms, but couldn't stop her lips from twitching upward. "Well..." she muttered, eyes dragging over Paul's torso with reluctant appreciation. "They may be giant killer wolves, but at least they have nice abs."

Luna snorted, unable to help the amused smile that crept over her face. "You're not wrong."

Luna leaned forward on the slanted shingles, eyes fixed on the way Embry ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head back to laugh at something Paul said. Her voice was soft, thoughtful. "He actually didn't used to look like that."

Nova's brows rose. "Like what? Tall, dark, and handsome?"

Luna gave her a sideways glance and smiled. "No, I mean... muscular. Defined. He used to be lankier when we were together. I mean, he was still cute, but now?" She gestured loosely toward him. "Now he looks like he could bench press a fucking elk."

Nova snorted. "At least he's not furry at the moment."

Luna giggled, biting her lip. "Yeah, thank God for that. It'd be hard to have this conversation seriously if he was covered in body hair."

Nova leaned her chin on her hand, pretending to ponder. "Do you think the abs stay when they phase?"

Luna squinted at her. "You are so weird."

Nova smirked. "Just trying to understand what I'm working with. Science, Lu. Science."

For a fleeting, precious moment, they both felt like normal teenage girls.

The boys trudged barefoot through Paul's yard, pajama pants flapping in the breeze and leaves stuck between their toes. Their skin was still warm from the shift, muscles relaxed and spirits buzzing—thanks to the weed and the afterglow of running through the woods like oversized mutts. They were still high. Embry kept sniffing the air like a bloodhound, convinced he could smell frozen pizza through brick walls.

Paul was on a mission. A man possessed by the craving of someone who'd inhaled an entire forest's worth of THC. "I swear, if there's no cereal left, I'm eating raw hot dogs," he muttered, stepping over a branch that had definitely not been there earlier.

"We should've just stolen those campers' burgers," Embry said, half-laughing, his voice still a little too airy. "Like, we're basically forest guardians. They'd have understood."

Paul shot him a sideways glare. "Yeah, 'scuse me sir, don't mind the two freakishly large wolves stealing your beef patties. Park rangers? Nah. We're just on a spiritual journey."

Embry snorted, but then both boys froze in their tracks.

Halfway across the yard, Embry's eyes lifted—then widened. "Oh... dude."

On the roof, silhouetted by moonlight, sat Luna Mae and Nova. Hair tousled, faces glowing with mischief and moonlight, legs swinging like it was the most casual thing in the world. They were like the damn sirens from those Greek stories. If the sirens wore fuzzy slippers and judged you from rooftops.

Paul whispered with barely controlled panic, "Oh shit. Shit. Act normal."

Embry squinted. "It's just our impri—"

Paul's hand slammed across his mouth before the word finished leaving his lips. "I told you, Call," he hissed. "Say it, and I'll rip your tail out and feed it to you."

Embry raised both hands in surrender, too high to even feel threatened. He just stood there, grinning like an idiot, mumbling something muffled into Paul's palm.

Paul finally let go, eyes still on the girls. His shoulders were tense now. Alert. He leaned in close, dropping his voice. "Sober up. Right now. I don't care how many brain cells you have left—pull them together. We may have to protect ourselves."

Embry blinked, looked back up at Luna and Nova—who were very clearly giggling at them—and whispered, "From what? Them?"

Paul just groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "This is exactly how people die in horror movies, Embry."

The two boys stopped about ten feet from the house, their bare feet crunching softly on the grass as they looked up at Luna and Nova perched casually on the roof. Paul's gaze was cautious but steady as he took a few careful steps forward, settling himself on the ground beneath the girls, like he was both respecting the distance and trying not to spook them. Embry stayed mostly silent, the lazy haze of the high still clouding his movements and expression. He seemed half-present, eyes flickering between the shadows and the glowing figures above, a faint, goofy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Luna's eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced sideways at Paul. "What's up with him?" she asked softly.

Paul shrugged with a small, amused grin. "He's just a little high," he admitted.

Luna blinked, folding her arms across her chest, eyebrows arching in disbelief. "High? He hates that shit."

Paul chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "Yeah, well... things change."

"Obviously," Luna muttered, crossing her arms tighter as if that explained everything about the night.

Paul held out his hands in a steady, open gesture, voice low but firm. "Why are you here, Luna? And your friend? It's dangerous out here."

"Dangerous?" Nova's spoke up, her tone sharpened, eyes flicking between Paul and Embry. "Why? You gonna hurt us?"

Before Paul could respond, Embry cut in, voice softer but clear and honest. "No. We would never."

The yard fell quiet, the tension hanging thick in the cool night air. Paul glanced back at Embry, who gave a small nod as if to affirm his words, then returned his gaze to the girls. After a moment, to everyone's surprise, Paul finally said, "Wanna come in?"

Luna and Nova exchanged a quick glance before nodding almost in unison. "Yeah," Luna said quietly, "we'll come in."

Paul gave a small smile, then turned and started heading inside, already scanning the living room. "I'll try to clean this mess up a bit," he muttered as he knelt down, grabbing empty beer bottles and discarded snack wrappers, tossing them into a corner. The room was a chaotic mix of gym gear, old video game cases, and that unmistakable haze of teenage chaos, but Paul's movements had a surprising sort of carefulness to them—like this was his space, and he wanted to make it something welcoming for their unexpected guests.

Embry stood a little stiffly, eyes flickering to Luna as she remained near the doorway. He took a tentative step toward her, opening his mouth as if to say something heavy and important. "Luna, I—"

"Stop," she said sharply, holding up a hand before he could finish.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"I want us to have this conversation sober, Em."

His whole face softened immediately at the sound of the nickname, like a shield dropping just enough to reveal the boy underneath. He gave a small, almost shy nod, the weight of her words settling over him. "Okay," he said quietly. "Whenever you're ready."

In the kitchen, Paul leaned against the counter, the familiar routine of rolling a joint calming the frayed edges of his nerves. His fingers moved with muscle memory—grinding, sprinkling, twisting. The paper crinkled quietly under his calloused fingertips, a tiny rhythm in the heavy silence of the kitchen. His hands, usually so steady, shook just enough to betray the thoughts running wild beneath his tough exterior. Nova and Luna being in the house had him on edge—not out of fear, but something far more dangerous: curiosity. That, and the sheer chaos of his imprint standing only a few feet away.

He sensed her before he saw her. The soft pad of bare feet on the linoleum, the subtle scent of citrus and wind that followed her like a whisper. He looked up just as Nova stepped into the doorway. Her hair was still slightly tousled from the rooftop breeze, and her green contact lenses gleamed unnaturally in the low kitchen light. His breath hitched—just for a second—and he quickly looked down, focusing hard on the joint between his fingers.

"You can keep going," she said with a smirk, waving a hand casually. "Didn't mean to interrupt your... stress relief."

Paul cleared his throat and forced a casual shrug, though his shoulders were tight. "Didn't say you were interrupting."

Nova stepped further into the room, her eyes scanning the cluttered counters and tilted cereal boxes stacked near the sink. The beer cans that littered the counter, and the lack of food in the pantry. "Where are your parents?" she asked suddenly, tone light but curious—concerned almost.

He looked up sharply, eyes narrowing on instinct. "Where are yours?" he shot back, the words biting a little more than he intended.

She blinked, then laughed—a real one, short and surprised. "Wow. Okay so you're real touchy, aren't ya?"

Paul grunted, lighting the joint and taking a slow, grounding inhale. The smoke curled in the air between them as Nova leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed, one hip cocked.

She tilted her head slightly, watching him through those unnervingly clear green lenses. "Do I make you antsy, wolf boy?"

He paused mid-exhale. "Pardon?"

"You heard me," she said softly, stepping a little closer. "Your heartbeat... it picks up every time I'm near you. Why is that?"

Paul stared at her, expression unreadable. The buzz from the joint did nothing to steady the knot in his chest. He forced a dry chuckle. "Because you're our mortal enemy. Remember?"

Nova didn't flinch. Instead, she reached forward and plucked the joint right from his fingers, lifted it to her lips, and took a slow, practiced drag. Her fingers brushed his just barely, sending a jolt up his spine. She exhaled the smoke slowly before handing it back.

"If I'm your enemy," she said quietly, her voice like silk and smoke, "then why haven't you killed me?"

And for once in his life, Paul Lahote didn't have a smartass answer.

Paul didn't answer—just grunted, low and annoyed, more at himself than her. He snatched the joint back like it owed him money and took a long pull, then blew the smoke toward the ceiling. His jaw flexed tight, and he couldn't meet her eyes. He hated how right she was. Hated that she saw through him so easily, like he was just another open book in her pale, cold hands.

Without another word, he pushed off the counter and walked out of the kitchen, shoulders stiff, the half-finished joint still between his fingers. Nova lingered in the doorway a beat longer, watching him with unreadable eyes, then followed—silent, barefoot, graceful.

In the living room, Embry was perched on the edge of the couch, looking at Luna like she was the only person in the world. His expression had softened considerably since earlier—less dazed, more sobered—but he was still clearly shaken, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees like he was bracing himself.

Luna, across from him, sat in the recliner with her arms folded tight, her expression unreadable, her gaze sharp as glass.

Paul slumped into the opposite end of the couch, tossing the now smoked through joint in a half-filled soda can and stretching his long legs out in front of him. The tension in the room tightened when Nova entered, and Paul could feel it like static on his skin. The scent of vampire still lingered, sweet and sharp, but there was no threat—at least not one anyone was willing to name aloud.

Nova took her place beside Luna, not sitting so much as folding herself into the chair, one leg tucked under the other, her sharp features unreadable. Paul didn't look at her. He didn't have to. He could feel her presence like a current, something electric buzzing just beneath the surface of his skin.

And as the four of them sat there—two wolves, two vampires, the lines blurred and hearts caught somewhere in the in-between—the silence pressed down like a weight. Something had changed. And none of them could say exactly what it meant yet.

Paul leaned back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest and jaw taut, his amber eyes flicking between the two girls like he was trying to decipher a code. "Alright, seriously," he finally said, voice low but firm. "What are you two doing here?"

Nova, ever collected, tilted her head and met his stare. "We just wanted to talk. You two obviously know about us," she said with a deliberate calm. "Luna and I want to know if we're safe. If you know what we are... she deserves to know that she at least has a chance at what she wants here."

Embry shifted where he sat, suddenly less wolf and more boy, his eyes gentle as he looked at Luna. "What is that?" he asked, voice quiet, like he was afraid of the answer. "You know, what do you... want?"

Luna blinked, her expression softening. She looked down at her hands for a moment, fingers flexing like they weren't hers. "I want my life back," she said, voice almost a whisper. "It was taken from me... and I want it back. Even if it's just for senior year. I want normal. I want stupid homework and vending machine coffee and gossip in the hallway. I want... me again."

There was a beat of silence. Even Nova glanced at her, visibly taken by the honesty.

Embry swallowed, throat tight. "Well... vampires have lived in peace with us before. The Cullens," he said, watching her carefully. "It worked. Kinda."

Luna's brows shot up, her confusion plain. "The Cullens? Like... Dr. Cullen? The guy at the hospital?" She looked at Nova, then back at the boys. "He's a vampire?"

Paul smirked bitterly. "Mhm. But they left. Sam was practically throwing a party about it. He'll be pissed there are vampires back in town," he added, rubbing the back of his neck. "But I mean... maybe you could come to some sort of agreement with him. He's not totally unreasonable. Just intense as hell."

Luna blinked. "Wait... Sam? Sam Uley? What is he? He's one of you?"

Embry gave a little nod. "He's the Alpha. Leader of the pack."

Nova's expression shifted slightly, more alert now, and she leaned forward just a bit. "And how many of... you," she said, her tone cautious, "are there exactly?"

Paul looked at her, then over at Embry, and exhaled slowly. "There's five of us right now," he said. "But with the gene? That number could double within a year. So... yeah. The rez might be a little more wolf-heavy real soon."

The room fell quiet again for a moment, the weight of that information pressing down on all of them.

Luna looked at Embry again, her eyes softer now, but guarded. "So... what does that mean for us?"

Embry scratched the back of his neck, the air in the living room thick with tension and the unspoken truth that none of them knew how this would play out. "I mean," he started, glancing between Luna and Nova, "you could try and take it up with Sam first. Just... test the waters, y'know? He's intense, yeah, but not heartless. If you explain things, maybe there's a chance."

Paul, who had been lounging like a half-cooked pretzel on the arm of the couch, suddenly stood up, blinking a little too slowly. "Alright, I gotta piss," he announced like it was the most noble of duties.

Embry gave him a look like he'd just announced he was going off to war. "Jesus, man, just say excuse me like a normal person."

But Paul didn't respond. He just waved a lazy hand behind him and shuffled down the hall like gravity was a mild suggestion he no longer respected. Truth was, he didn't need to use the bathroom at all—his head had started spinning and his body felt heavy, like all his limbs were waterlogged. He wasn't used to being high around vampires. Or people he kind of liked. Or both.

He stumbled into his room and immediately flopped down on his bed, face-first into a pillow that smelled like old cologne, weed, and maybe sadness. He stared at the ceiling, letting the blurry shadows swirl like clouds. He hadn't even shut the door, too distracted by the warm weight pressing behind his eyes.

And that's when he felt it.

That creeping, eerie sensation of someone watching him.

His head lolled lazily to the side and—bam—there she was. Nova. Silent. Standing in the doorway like a pale, immortal wraith, eyes glinting with something unreadable.

Paul flinched, his body jerking slightly as he half-sat up in alarm. "What the fuck—you're creepy as hell," he said, voice slurred by a haze of weed and disbelief. "Seriously, do you float? Are your feet even touching the ground?"

Nova didn't flinch at his bluntness. She stepped inside slowly, her gaze traveling around his space with mild judgment. Her arms folded across her chest, voice calm and amused. "Your room's a mess."

Paul glanced around at the battlefield of energy drink cans, unmatched socks, weightlifting gloves, and a half-eaten protein bar melting on his dresser. He groaned and fell back on the bed, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, well, you want a fucking tour or something, Miss Dracula?"

Nova's lips curled faintly into a smirk, but she said nothing—just took a step farther in, eyes still trailing the chaos of Paul Lahote's teenage boy sanctum.

And Paul, despite every logical part of him screaming stay distant, couldn't stop his heart from thudding just a little faster.

Paul groaned into his pillow and rolled onto his side, his brows pinched as he peeked up at her through squinted, bloodshot eyes. "Can't you just... I don't know, leave me alone?" he muttered, voice half-muffled, half-pathetic. He wasn't in the mood for cryptic conversations with a vampire who had the habit of showing up like a horror movie extra.

Nova didn't move from her spot. Her pale arms stayed crossed, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly. "You're interesting," she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Paul blinked. "I'm what now?"

"Interesting," she repeated, stepping once more into the room, bare feet barely making a sound on the creaky wood floor. "You're grumpy. Reckless. A little mean. But your heart races whenever I'm near. Like a little rabbit." Her head tilted as she said it, eyes narrowing with the same curiosity that a scientist might have when poking a dangerous specimen in a jar.

Paul sat up a little straighter, suddenly very aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt and that his hair probably looked like a raccoon's nest. "I'm not a rabbit. I'm a fucking wolf."

"Mm," Nova hummed noncommittally, taking a lazy glance around his room again. "A very messy wolf."

Paul scoffed. "You know what? You broke into my room, insulted my lifestyle, and now you're calling me a bunny? This is why people don't like vampires."

"This is why people don't like you," she shot back coolly, then paused, watching as the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a grin.

He groaned again and flopped back onto the bed, throwing his forearm over his eyes. "God, you're exhausting."

But he didn't tell her to leave again.

Paul didn't move from the bed, his body sprawled like a starfish as he blinked up at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. The weed still swam heavy in his system, making everything feel distant and soft, like a dream he wasn't sure he wanted to be in. He was still trying to process why the fuck Nova was standing in his room like she lived there—cool, calm, and pale as moonlight in her oversized hoodie and black leggings.

He heard the soft creak of one of his floorboards and peeked out from under his arm just in time to see her crossing to his dresser, fingers trailing across the clutter of cologne bottles, old receipts, half-used stick deodorants, and unopened mail. She picked up a cracked Polaroid camera and turned it over in her hand like it was a relic from another century.

"Hey," Paul said, lifting his head an inch. "Stop touching my shit."

Nova glanced over her shoulder, her eyes glinting with amusement. "You have a lot of 'shit.' Be more specific."

"I mean all of it."

She smirked and opened the top drawer of his dresser with no shame whatsoever. "Oh, look—more socks than one man should ever own and an impressive amount of boxer briefs. Sexy."

Paul groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow. "Can't you just sit down or I don't know—vampire-vanish or something?"

"You invited us in," she said sweetly, lifting an old CD from the pile and examining the sharpie title: Ultimate Pump Playlist Vol. 2. She let out a snort.

"Yeah, to the living room," he grumbled. "This is my sanctuary."

"Well," she said, shutting the drawer with her hip and strolling toward his desk, "your sanctuary is messy, smells like weed, and has a broken chair leg. Not very sacred."

Paul sat up slightly, brows lowering as he tracked her. "Seriously, stop."

She glanced at him from over her shoulder, head tilted. "Make me."

He let out a long breath through his nose and rolled his eyes. "God, you're like a toddler with fangs."

Nova grinned, taking that as a challenge instead of a warning. She dropped into his gaming chair—half-broken, covered in peeling faux leather—and spun slowly once, propping one leg up like she belonged there. "You're really bad at telling people what to do, y'know."

Paul narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm high, not dead. You do realize you're a vampire in a house with a werewolf, right?"

"Then I repeat my earlier question," Nova said slowly, voice silk and shadow. Her eyes locked with his, sharp and unrelenting. "Why haven't you killed me? You killed my friend..."

His brow arched. "Who?"

She straightened up in the chair, arms crossing as she said, "His name was Laurent."

Paul's reaction was immediate. His spine stiffened, nostrils flaring slightly. "Oh, that French bastard?" he scoffed, as if the memory lit a fuse somewhere deep in him. "Yeah. Hell yeah, I killed him."

Nova blinked, surprised by the casual confirmation. "Seriously?"

Paul leaned back on his palms, nodding once. "Tried to kill Bella. We don't play around with that shit."

"Bella? The chick who's dating a vampire?" Nova asked, incredulous. "You were protecting her?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Because she's human. We protect humans. And according to Jacob, she's no longer dating a vampire."

Nova leaned forward now, her tone not quite angry, but something like wounded curiosity. "I was human once too, y'know."

The silence that followed settled heavy between them. Paul's breath hitched just a little, something about her words hitting a nerve he hadn't known was exposed. The air in the room thinned. Nova wasn't looking at him now—her eyes were on the floor, where a moonbeam cracked through the blinds and spilled like a sliver of silver across the worn rug.

For a moment, Paul wasn't thinking about imprinting, or Sam, or the fact that the girl across from him should be his enemy. He was just staring at her—really staring—and all he could think about was how sad she looked when she said that. How tired.

He exhaled through his nose, and when he finally said something, it was quieter than she expected.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess you were."

Nova didn't look up, but the corner of her mouth twitched—something between a frown and a smile.

Paul and Nova both turned toward the doorway at the sound of Luna's voice. She stood there in the dim hallway, silhouetted by the soft yellow light of the living room behind her, her arms folded across her chest. Her curls were mussed from the breeze outside, her pale skin catching the faintest glow from the hallway light. Her expression was calm, but her eyes flickered with something unreadable as she looked between the two of them.

"Hey," she said gently, though her voice carried a subtle edge of finality. "It's almost one. We should get back."

Nova blinked, like she'd forgotten where she was for a moment. She pushed up from Paul's gaming chair with graceful ease and gave his room one last sweeping glance before turning toward Luna.

"Right," she said, smoothing a hand down her hoodie. "Coming."

Paul watched her go, lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something but didn't. Instead, he just ran a hand down his face and scrubbed the back of his neck, mumbling to himself, "Jesus. What the hell is happening to me?"

Luna lingered in the doorway for a second longer, her eyes meeting Paul's. She gave him a small nod, something quiet passing between them—recognition, maybe, or a quiet thanks for not letting things spiral. Then she stepped aside as Nova brushed past her, the soft whoosh of the hallway air moving with them as the two girls walked away.

Paul exhaled and flopped back on his bed, arms splayed like he was making a snow angel in the blankets. "Gonna need stronger weed next time," he muttered.