??? ??????? ?? ????. → liam dunbar

❛ 117. ❜

"𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬—𝐡𝐨𝐰'𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?" Nova's voice rang through the hallway as she strutted into school the next morning. Her tone was as sharp as her mood. After discovering that her so-called friends had spent the weekend partying in Mexico without her, she was seething—and ready to stir up some serious trouble.

The moment she spotted Scott and Stiles making their way up the school steps, Nova homed in on them like a heat-seeking missile. She wasn't in the mood for games. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.

Unfortunately, the boys were far too wrapped up in whatever nonsense Stiles was recounting about his night with Malia to notice her approach. Without missing a beat, Nova walked up and smacked Stiles hard on the back, earning a startled yelp and finally getting their attention.

"Ow—what the hell, Nova?" Stiles complained, rubbing his shoulder.

Scott just gave her a weary look, then threw an arm around her shoulder as if that would somehow defuse the situation.

"After that, we spent the rest of the night spooning," Stiles muttered to Scott, choosing to ignore Nova's death glare and conveniently skipping over any mention of Mexico.

Nova raised an eyebrow but bit her tongue. For now. Before she even had the chance to press further, Mr. Yukimura stepped out of a nearby classroom and waved the boys inside. "See you later, Nova. Try to stay awake in math today."

"Oh, Scotty," she called after them, smirking, "I stopped paying attention in math when the alphabet got involved. But thanks for the pep talk."

Scott sighed, giving Stiles a look, and the boys disappeared into the classroom. Nova didn't bother heading to class. She had other plans.

Just moments ago she'd swiped Scott's spare keys—something made easy by his habit of wrapping his arm around her like a big brother. Now, with no one watching, she headed straight to the McCall house. She had tracked her mom's phone there, and while it hadn't pinged in hours, it was the only lead she had.

The door creaked open and Nova stepped inside, only to freeze mid-step when she locked eyes with Agent McCall, who was standing in the kitchen. For a beat, no one said anything.

"This is awkward," she muttered, more to herself than him. Then louder, "Scott forgot his homework. He asked me to swing by and grab it during my free period."

Agent McCall looked her over skeptically, but after a moment's pause, he stepped aside. "Alright. Don't be long."

Nova darted up the stairs before he could change his mind, making a beeline for Scott's room. She wasn't sure what she expected to find—clues, maybe, or some trace of her mom—but after a few minutes of digging through his clutter, she came up empty.

She was about to give up when unfamiliar voices floated up from downstairs. Curious, she crept toward the landing and peeked down.

"Uh—he's my cousin. Miguel. From Mexico," Stiles was saying, looking absolutely unconvincing.

Nova's eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the "cousin." But before she could get a better look, a spider skittered across the floor in front of her. Despite everything she'd been through, Nova shrieked.

Agent McCall appeared almost instantly. "Nova, the spider's probably more scared of you than you are of it."

"Oh? Did it tell you that?" she shot back, eyeing the bug warily as he scooped it up and carried it outside.

But her attention quickly shifted. As her eyes returned to the group below, her gaze locked on the teen Stiles had introduced as Miguel. Her breath caught. That wasn't some random cousin. That was Derek Hale. Her father.

He looked like he had stepped right out of an old photo—young, maybe just a year older than her—but she'd know those eyes anywhere.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?!" Nova's voice rang out as she stormed down the stairs. Her mind was spinning. Derek had somehow de-aged—and no one had thought to clue her in? She stomped down hard on Stiles' foot.

"Because you're scary!" he hissed, hopping in pain.

Derek smirked slightly at Stiles' reaction, though it didn't escape Nova. "You should be scared of me!" she snapped. Then, turning her fury on Derek, she added, "And you—wipe that smug look off your face."

Before things could spiral further, Agent McCall returned. Stiles quickly ushered Nova toward the stairs, trying to salvage the situation before it got any messier.

"Go cool off in Scott's room, please."

Nova didn't argue. She stomped up the stairs, still fuming, and collapsed onto Scott's bed. Her thoughts were racing, her emotions a tangled mess of anger, confusion, and heartbreak. That's when she heard it—a faint rustling behind her.

She barely had time to react before something slammed into her from behind. Pain bloomed across the back of her head, and everything went dark.

When Nova finally came to, it felt like she was floating. Softness cradled her body—completely unlike the hard floor she'd hit before losing consciousness. She shot up, blinking against the blur in her vision. The room shimmered around her, familiar yet off-kilter.

"Hey, you're alright," a gentle voice said.

Morgan.

Nova turned to see her mom rise from a chair in the corner. The calm in Morgan's voice soothed her frayed nerves—just a little.

"You were out cold. Kate caught you off guard," she explained gently, brushing a strand of hair from Nova's face.

As the panic settled into confusion, Morgan began to recount everything that had happened. The trip to Mexico. The vault. Kate's plan to steal one hundred and seventeen million dollars from the Hale family safe. Nova listened, stunned, trying to process the madness.

Then Derek entered the room—his older self now fully restored. He looked weary, but when he saw Nova, his face broke into a rare, warm smile. Without hesitation, Nova leapt into his arms.

He caught her easily, wrapping her in a hug that told her, without words, how much he'd missed her. She felt his lips press against her head, just like he used to when she was little. Despite everything, this moment made her feel grounded again.

Nova leaned back just enough to look up at him and quipped, "Do you know how much makeup I could've bought with one hundred and seventeen million dollars?"

Derek laughed—really laughed—and for a second, the room felt a little less heavy.

o. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞.