The iron gates of their Beverly Hills mansion opened, and Nova 'Chop' Chambers rolled the matte G-Wagon into the driveway trying not to run their trash cans down cuz she was that eager to get the fuck outta the car. Her body felt heavy — the kind of exhaustion that don't sleep off in one night. Weeks on tour, endless signings, interviews, afterparties, fake smiles, and too much liquor. Every muscle in her back screamed for a blunt, a greasy-ass takeout spread, and her girl curled up against her chest where she belonged.

Her shoulders slumped against the leather, exhaustion setting into bone. Weeks of stages, afterparties, press runs, fake smiles, and greedy hands pulling at her. Shit drained her. She loved the music, loved the fans — but the machine? The constant push, the constant hunger? It ate at her real bad.

That's why she told herself she'd take the year off. No half-measures this time. No features, no surprise drops, no bullshit. A year for her and her girl. A year to stop playing around, stop procrastinating, and finally put that ring on her Omega's finger. Fiji wedding, bomb ass party, and straight nasty time in the sand.

The thought made her smile goofy as hell. Then her smile disappeared. She was still hella irritated. She was always irritated when her Omega wasn't with her.

Her girl had left toward the end of the tour, some vague excuse about not feeling well. Nova hadn't liked it, but she didn't press — figured her girl needed space. But still. Every city, every stage, every hotel bed she hit without her Omega at her side had her restless.

Earlier, when she'd stepped off the jet, she'd shot a text: 'You want something? Food? Flowers? Whatever.' Nothing back. No reply. Which wasn't like her baby at all.

Nova exhaled hard through her nose, dreads shifting with the shake of her head. 'Bet,' she muttered to herself, voice low and rough, grillz flashing in the dim. 'Guess I'ma figure it out when I get home.'

She pressed the garage remote, rolling up into the gated mansion — their sleek fortress tucked into the hills. The kind of house that screamed money. Nova cut the engine. She grabbed her duffel, slung it over one shoulder, adjusted her chains. One last deep breath, one last mutter — 'Hope you ready for me, ma. 'Cause I missed the fuck outta you.'

The key slid in the door, and the moment she stepped into the foyer, her grillz caught a faint reflection from the chandelier above — but her foot caught something else. She damn near tripped. Nova looked down. One of her jerseys. Crumbled in the middle of the floor like it'd been dragged.

Her brow furrowed, exhaustion giving way to sharp suspicion. She stooped, picked it up, sniffed it. Her own scent — faint. But layered heavy with her Omega's sweetness. She swallowed hard, already feeling her pulse climb.

The deeper she walked in, the stranger it got. Compression shirts across the couch. Basketball shorts halfway up the stairs. A pair of her boxer briefs tossed careless near the hallway mirror.

Nova stopped cold, her dreads shifting as she jerked her head side to side. 'What the fuck?' she muttered under her breath, grillz catching as her jaw flexed. Robbery? Her gut said no. Her awards case sat pristine. Studio doors closed, security glass unbothered. None of the jewelry cases cracked. No broken windows.

Still, her chest burned with worry. Where the fuck was her girl? She gripped the railing of the glass staircase so hard her knuckles popped. 'Ma?!' Her voice carried sharp through the house. No answer. 'Yo, don't play with me like this. Ma—!' Her heart was beating fast as fuck in her chest.

Her Jordans hit the hardwood of the upstairs hall fast. Bedroom door wide open. And that's when it hit her. The scent. Thick. Overwhelming. Sweet and raw. Nearly made her knees buckle.

Her Omega. In heat. Nova's lips parted, pupils dilating as the pheromones wrapped her lungs tight. She stepped inside slow, careful, her voice dropping lower. 'Baby?' No answer. Just the faintest whimper. Her chest tightened. She followed the sound — to her closet.

Pitch black when she slid the door open. But the scent? Stronger than it's ever been. Her breath stuttered, caught halfway between a growl and a groan. Nova moved through the racks of clothes, brushing chains, fabrics, sneakers boxes until she saw it.

A nest. A mountain of her own damn clothes dragged from every corner of the house. Jerseys, briefs, hoodies — all wrapped around her girl who was sweating and shaking. Eyes blown wide. Skin damp. Breath shallow. Buried in her Alpha's scent like it was the only thing tethering her to earth.

Nova's throat went dry. Her tongue swept slow over her grillz-polished teeth. She crouched down, peeling back a hoodie from her Omega's shoulder, fingers brushing warm skin slick with heat. Her Omega whimpered again, and Nova's stomach twisted tight.

She licked her lips, leaning close until her breath mingled with her Omega's. Her hand, steady and rough, cupped her girl's cheek. 'Ma...' Nova's voice came low, she didn't wanna startle her girl by going all caveman on her. She was holding back though and it was killing her with her Omega's pheromones wrapped around them.

'This heat hittin' hard, ain't it?' Her nose brushed the crown of her Omega's head, inhaling deep, tryna get herself together. 'Damn, baby... you ain't have to suffer through it alone. You know I'm the only one can handle you when you get like this. I could've been home taking care of you'