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CHAPTER TEN

NOVA

T he words obliterate me, a deep ache of fear taking root at the bomb he’s dropped in my lap. My stomach knots as my mind races, already thinking about worst-case scenarios. My mom? My dads? One of my siblings? My chest tightens, the kind of pressure that squeezes the air from your lungs before you can even begin to ask.

“Who?” I rasp.

The last time someone delivered me news like this, the fate of magic and my sister’s soul bonded mate was at stake. It has me feeling more than unmoored.

Tai hesitates, and that pause, that fraction of a second, feels like an eternity—long enough for my heart to trip over itself, my pulse roaring in my ears. His hand tightens around mine, grounding but not comforting, his sad eyes locked on me like he’s trying to figure out how to say what’s next.

“Luka Donovi?.”

For a heartbeat, I can’t process it. Can't wrap my head around the name or why it matters, why I should care about some random per?—

And that's when it slams into me.

The name hits me like a sucker punch, knocking the wind from my lungs and leaving nothing but silence in its wake. Luka Donovi?. My biological father. The former king of werewolves. A monster who the press warned our people I’d become.

High Princess Novaleigh: Like Father, Like Daughter?

The man who imprinted on my mother, raped her, and became nothing more than a story I never wanted to hear again.

For a second, it feels like the room shifts sideways. The shadows stretch longer, the edges blur. My fingers curl tighter around Tai’s without thinking, like holding onto something tangible will stop the world from tilting completely off its axis.

“What happened?” My voice is quieter than I expect, raspier, like it doesn’t belong to me.

I don’t know what to think, what to feel. He’s always been this abstract person we never talk about, but now he’s someone I can no longer ignore.

His lips press into a thin line. He doesn’t rush. Tai never rushes. It’s infuriating and grounding all at once, like a compass pointing me back to the cold, hard truth.

“Car accident,” he says finally, his words quiet. “He’s in a hospital. On Earth.”

Earth. The word tastes foreign, distant. My siblings and my mom’s stories of their time there play on loop in my head—gritty, painful memories, a place where gods and fae have little dominion.

I laugh. It’s harsh, dry, humorless. “So, what? He’s mortal, right? Accidents happen. That’s life, isn’t it? Isn’t that the whole point of him living out his days as a human?”

The words taste bitter, even as I force them out. I don’t mean them. Not completely. This is Luka Donovi?—my mother’s tormentor, the villain in nearly every story she’s ever told about her past. But he’s also my flesh and blood, the thread that ties me to a past I’ve never touched but can’t escape.

I don’t know him. I don’t want to know him. And yet, the thought of him dying—alone, powerless, and human—unsettles something deep in me that I can’t quite name. Maybe it’s pity. Maybe it’s guilt. Or maybe it’s just fear of what this will mean for me, for the fragile balance my family’s built.

I press my lips together, hating the way my mind scrambles to fill the gaps I never wanted filled.

Tai doesn’t flinch, just holds my stare. “He’s on life support now. They don’t think he’ll make it through the weekend.”

And just like that, the walls close in. The ceiling seems lower. The air thicker, suffocating. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not to him. Not now. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. Except that I do, because even if I don’t owe him anything, even if he’s just a ghost in my mother’s past, he’s the reason I exist.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask finally, my words flat but edged with something I can’t name.

Tai hesitates again, that same maddening pause, and I know—whatever he’s about to say is going to make me hate this even more.

“It’s not about what I want.” He takes great care in picking his words. “Your parents could heal him. If you ask them to.”

My laugh this time is darker, bitter. “You’re kidding. They’d never go for that. Not after everything he did.”

“They’d do it for you.”

The room stills, his words hanging between us. My heartbeat pounds like war drums in my ears, drowning out everything but the enormity of what he’s just laid at my feet.

Do I let him die? Or do I call on the people I love to save a man I’ve never met—a man who destroyed lives but somehow brought mine into existence?

For the first time in my life, I don’t have a smartass remark.

“I—” I pause, drawing a shaky breath. “What do I do?”

He sighs, eyes softening. “I can’t tell you what to do. But if there’s even a part of you that wants to meet him, to understand where you came from … this might be your last chance, whether or not you have your parents save him.”

My throat burns with the burden of emotions I can’t untangle. The rational part of my brain screams at me to walk away, to let the past stay buried. But there’s another part, a quieter voice, that whispers about a life I’ve never known—a legacy I’ve never understood, but perhaps it holds the answers to questions I’ve been too afraid to ask.

He was a king. Not just their alpha, but a man who did horrible things for his people. Just as my family has. It just hits different when I’m the collateral damage born of it.

But beneath the hurt, deeper and harder to ignore, something stirs.

It’s not logic. It’s not pity. It’s something feral, something wild that I don’t want to claim. Family is instinct, carved into my bones, woven into my blood. And no matter how much I want to pretend I’m above it, that invitation scratches at the edges of my will, daring me to listen.

To heed the call.

“Why didn’t my mom tell me this herself?”

He turns to face me fully, bringing our still-clasped hands into his lap. “She didn’t want her—or your fathers’—opinion of Luka to influence your choice.”

I pull my hand free, rubbing my palm against my thigh like I can scrub away the residue of what he just said. “Right. Sure. Let the kid born of his disaster decide whether or not to save his sorry ass.”

He stirs, but he doesn’t argue. He never does. He just watches like a boulder in the middle of a snowstorm. No matter how much you pile on him, he’s still a fucking rock. It makes me want to scream.

“And she’s pregnant.”

I blink. Then blink again, because my brain can’t catch up. “What?” Pregnant?” My head spins as I try to piece this together. Nevermind the fact they’re still … still doing that. I shudder, staring at the floor before returning my eyes to Tai.

He puffs out his cheeks as he collects his thoughts. “They’re not sure how far along yet, but there’s no way they can go through the portal now.”

“But you said?—”

“Finn gave me one of his feathers to bring with. I can perform the ritual to save his life.”

Panic claws its way up my throat, and I have to stand. I pace to the window, the warped reflection of the room ghosting across the glass. “So, what’s next?” I ignore the pointed stare I feel at my back from two sets of eyes on me. “Save his life, or don’t, and then what?”

Out of my periphery, I watch as Tai leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not about him.” His voice isn’t soft, not harsh—just there, like the truth I’ve been trying to dodge. Not a hint of his order in it. “It’s about you. Whatever decision you make, you have to live with it.”

I laugh, but it’s the kind that cracks at the edges. “I’ve been living with it, Tai. My whole fucking life.”

My reflection stares back at me from the window, pale and wild-eyed, framed by the night outside. And there it is again—that tug in my chest. That low, thrumming pull that has nothing to do with logic or loyalty. It’s old, primal, something I don’t want to claim but can’t ignore.

I press my forehead to the cold glass, closing my eyes. “He’s asking for me?” I don’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it slips out that way.

He doesn’t answer right away. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than I’ve ever heard it. “Yes.”

I straighten, the movement jerky and unsteady. The reflection in the glass doesn’t look like me anymore. “Fuck,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage, and Tai doesn’t try to fill the silence.

The window isn’t going to give me answers, and neither is he. I turn back to face him, the words scraping up my throat before I can stop them. “What do I do?”

He doesn’t hesitate this time. “Whatever you can live with.”