Chapter two - Broken Reflection

The storm had passed, but the silence it left behind was worse. Nova lay curled on the thin mattress she had scavenged, dagger still clutched in her hand. Sleep refused her, offering only fragments—faces she had killed, faces she had failed to save, Kilian’s eyes burning through them all.

By dawn, she gave up, dragging herself to her feet. The warehouse was colder in daylight, its emptiness stark. She wrapped her coat tighter and slipped into the streets, every sense on edge.

The city moved like a beast waking from slumber. Merchants opened stalls, steam rose from food carts, and voices mingled in a dozen tongues. Normal. Ordinary. And yet, underneath, she felt it: the Hunters. Always watching. Always circling.

She caught a whiff of fresh bread from a nearby stall, but it only made her stomach turn. A merchant’s laughter rang too loud, too sharp, like a blade scraping glass. The world seemed alive with colors and sounds, yet none of it belonged to her anymore.

Nova kept her head down, but she wasn’t the same girl who once followed their orders. She was something else now—caught between worlds, mistrusted by both. Her reflection in a shop window startled her: pale skin smudged with soot, hair plastered to her forehead, eyes too wild.

For an instant, she didn’t recognize herself. That face didn’t belong to a Hunter, nor to prey. It belonged to something broken.

At the market’s edge, a scent stopped her dead.

Pine smoke. Iron.

Her chest constricted, pulse hammering. She spun, scanning faces in the crowd. Strangers. Children running past, an old woman haggling, a pair of guards laughing at a joke. Nothing unusual.

And yet the pull in her chest was undeniable.

He was near.

Nova’s hand hovered over her dagger, though she knew it would do nothing against him. Kilian wasn’t a Hunter, nor a shadow she could outpace. He was something else entirely—Alpha, wolf, the tether she couldn’t cut.

Her throat tightened. She pushed into the crowd, desperate to lose the sensation, but every step made it worse. She could feel him, as if the bond tugged at her like a leash.

“Leave me alone,” she hissed under her breath, though no one heard.

A child bumped into her leg, and she nearly lashed out before catching herself. The boy’s wide eyes reminded her too much of the wolf she had hesitated to kill. She shoved past, heart racing, vision blurring with fury and confusion.

By the time she ducked into a narrow alley, her breath came ragged. She pressed her back against the wall, willing herself to be invisible.

But even here, surrounded by shadows, she knew he was close. Watching. Waiting.

The alley seemed to swallow sound, but the city’s heartbeat still pulsed faintly through the walls. Shadows clung to every corner, twisting with the memory of movement, of footsteps that might—or might not—be hers to fear. The scent of damp earth and decay mixed with the faint metallic tang of old blood, lingering from fights fought long before, and a whisper of smoke that wasn’t from the market. She pressed her forehead against the cool brick, eyes closed, trying to make sense of the knot in her chest. Every instinct screamed to flee, to disappear into the chaos beyond, but another, more treacherous instinct urged her to stay—to let herself be found, to feel the invisible threads tighten and pull her toward him. Her breath came in shallow bursts, each one a reminder of her fragility, her humanity, her undeniable connection to the wolf who could track her anywhere. She imagined him moving just beyond the street’s edge, silent and patient, waiting for her surrender, and a shiver ran down her spine. She hated that it thrilled her. She hated that it made her ache.

And some traitorous part of her… didn’t fear being found—she craved it.