Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Nicholas
A deafening roar splits the night, freezing the chaos around me.
The crowd halts mid-panic, heads snapping upward as one. My own gaze follows, and for a moment, I think I’m seeing things.
The underside of a Lamborghini flies overhead, illuminated by the neon lights of the Strip.
They’re fucking doing it.
Before the thought even fully registers, Koen’s hand clamps around the back of my neck, “Move!” he barks, pushing me forward.
The crowd has gone eerily still, everyone gawking at the impossible sight above. It’s easier to push through now, but it takes everything in me not to crane my neck again, not to look up and see if they’re actually going to make it—or crash headfirst into the Heights.
Koen doesn’t stop guiding me, and my heart slams against my ribs, the cut in my lip sending a pulse of pain through me with every beat.
A dull thud crackles through the earpiece, followed by the screech of tires. Then, a loud crash.
The sound punches me in the gut, knocking the breath from my lungs.
They made it over, but they crashed the landing?
Sickness coils in my stomach, threatening to claw its way up. I risk a glance at Koen, whose face mirrors my own dread. Stricken.
“Faster!” Ezra barrels through the remaining clusters of people, almost carrying Levi, clearing a path for us, and we follow in his wake. My legs burn, but I don’t stop, not until the van comes into view.
“Sparkle?” Sylus asks hesitantly. “Ric?”
Koen is reaching for the sliding door, his hand brushing the handle, when Novalee’s voice crackles through the earpiece.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit!”
Alaric’s laughter follows, wild and unhinged.
“I hate you both.” Sylus’s voice is breaking, almost sobbing. “I hate you so fucking much.” Relief crashes over me so hard I almost collapse. Koen yanks the van door open, and we pile in, my adrenaline still coursing.
“Did it work? You guys out?” Alaric asks, panting.
“We’re in the van.” Koen grunts.
Ezra kneels in front of Levi, his chest heaving as he cups his face with both hands, scanning him from head to toe. “Are you hurt, love?”
Levi shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “No. I-I’m fine.” His breath hitches, and then the tears spill over. “That was fucking scary. Thank you.”
Ezra crashes his lips against Levi’s, stroking his cheeks gently as Levi clutches his shoulders.
“Sy, try to get us to the front of the Heights so we can grab those two idiots and get the fuck out of here, please,” Koen shouts to the front.
From the comms, Novalee’s voice fires back immediately. “Who are you calling idiots?”
“Oh, it’s fucking you, Little Thief.” Koen’s laugh is humorless. “And believe me, I’m going to whoop your ass for this. Hard.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Novalee quips, and despite everything, I can’t help but smirk.
Koen mutters under his breath but doesn’t push it. My gaze drifts to the windshield and toward the skyline, and I catch myself wondering how soon I can kiss those sassy, reckless lips again.
“The drive is connected to the transmitter,” Alaric informs us. “Get us fucking out of here, Sy.”
Sylus growls in frustration, halting the painstakingly slow drive. “Hold on.” He grabs his laptop from the passenger seat, his fingers flying over the keyboard, all of us watching silently until he lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m in the system. Doors are open. Elevator is called.”
“Oh my God, do you know what I just realized?” Novalee’s laughter bubbles up, louder than usual, like the adrenaline is still riding her hard. “Not only did you crash a Mustang but now a Lambo too. And you tell me I’m a bad driver.”
“Well, I don’t have a license either,” Alaric fires back, and Novalee’s answering laughter actually clips the mic, cutting off sound from the earpieces until Alaric adds, “Thanks, Sy. We’re in the elevator.”
Sylus grins as he finishes typing with one last flourish. “And I just broadcasted our little show over all of Veronica’s establishments.”
Levi whoops, throwing his hands in the air. “Hell yeah!”
Even Koen grins at that, and in the next moment, Sylus slides his laptop back into place and moves to get the van going again.
“The crowd’s thinning out,” he observes as he carefully moves toward the Heights’ entrance. “The panic seems to be over.”
Levi peers out the front with a scowl. “Still way too many people around for my taste. Fuck, they’re all shoulder to shoulder. How do we get through that?”
Koen’s gaze darkens, and I know he’s already strategizing.
“Almost out,” Alaric’s voice growls through the comms.
“Almost there,” Sylus says in response from the front, his focus locked on the road as the van inches closer to the Heights’ entry.
I glance out the back window to scan the thinning crowd and freeze when I see her.
Veronica.
She’s slipping out of a side door of the Heights, flanked by two of her security guards.
She’s getting away.
Because of me.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I reach for the sliding door of the van.
“What the fuck are you doing, Snickers?” Koen snaps.
“Fixing my fuckup,” I yell back as I yank open the door and jump out, sliding it shut before the people outside get a glimpse at the Lane twins.
“Get back here,” Ezra yells. “Let her be. The police will get her.”
“And what if they don’t?” I reply through the comms as I bolt toward where I saw her disappear, my pulse pounding as I scan my surroundings, desperate for a way through.
I turn my gaze toward the sky, begging them for an answer.
Surprisingly, it comes to me.
The balconies on the first floor of the Heights.
They’re spaced just close enough to be reachable.
I double back toward the van, ignoring the shouted protests in my earpiece, and clamber onto the hood.
“What the fuck, Short King ?” Sylus pounds his fist on the windshield. “You’re gonna make a dent in it!”
“I paid for this pile of rust.” I glance at Sylus through the windshield. “I can dent it as much as I want.” Then, I leap onto the van’s roof, making the metal creak under my weight.
Sylus rolls down the window and yells at me, apparently not satisfied to use the comms. “Hell, Harrington , what are you doing?”
I don’t respond because I’m too busy jumping.
My fingers grip the edge of the first balcony, and the metal bites into my skin as I dangle there for a second, my muscles straining as I pull myself up and over the railing.
The next balcony is farther away than it looked from below, the gap wide enough to give me pause. My heart pounds as I calculate the jump, the distance. I glance down and see Veronica moving farther away, her security clearing a path for her.
No time for second-guessing.
I balance on the railing, my breath steadying as I crouch, and then I push off, leaping through the air. I’m weightless before I land hard, my knees bending to absorb the impact.
“Holy shit,” Sylus’s voice comes through the comms. “You’re fucking crazy, Harrington. You know that, right?”
“Shut up, Walker, ” I mutter, already moving.
The next jump is easier, and after another, my movements grow even faster, more instinctive.
Jump. Land. Balance. Repeat.
Veronica’s security doesn’t even glance up, too focused on keeping her moving.
“Where the hell is he going?” Koen’s voice growls in my ear.
“Apparently, he’s auditioning for Cirque du Soleil,” Sylus answers.
I ignore them, pushing harder. Veronica and the guards split from the crowd and turn into an alleyway, which plays in my hand because the balconies are closer together here, and I’m gaining on them.
One more leap puts me directly above where she’s rushing through the alley with her guards. I crouch, gripping the railing, waiting for the right moment. With a final exhale, I push off the railing and drop, twisting midair into a backflip. The world spins, gravity yanking me down, and I land in a crouch, my feet hitting the pavement with a thud.
I rise slowly as Veronica skids to a halt, her guards doing the same a few feet behind her.
“Evening, Mother, ” I greet innocently as we lock eyes, but a sharp smile curls my lips while I try not to pant.
That was fucking epic, and I hate that Sylus didn’t see it.
Veronica’s lips part in shock, and the guards shift their hands to hover over their weapons, but I hold my ground.
Novalee’s and Alaric’s voices crackle in and out over the comms as they make it back to the van, but they’re a distant hum, drowned out by the sharp focus tunneling my vision. Everything narrows to this one moment.
“Nicholas.” Her lips curl into a sneer, dripping with venom. “What you’ve done here tonight… it’s not only a disgrace. It’s a betrayal. A betrayal of me, of the Harrington name. Your grandfather would turn over in his grave. You’ve destroyed everything we built,” she spits. “Everything I built for you. And for what? To play the hero? To save these pathetic magicians and their circus tricks? The ones who treated you like a pariah for the last decade?”
Weeks ago, this would’ve wrecked me. The accusations, the guilt, the weight of her expectations—I would have carried it all, buckling under the pressure of needing to be her legacy, her something.
But now? Now, it’s nothing.
I force myself to stay rooted, refusing to flinch under her scrutiny. There’s a strange kind of clarity in the moment, slicing through the last threads of whatever hold she thought she had over me.
I don’t need to be her legacy.
I don’t need to be her son, her heir, her anything.
“And now what, Nicholas?” she presses, stepping closer. “You think the police will see you as anything other than my accomplice? Do you think this makes you better than me?”
Her words try to claw at me, but they slide off like it’s nothing.
“You’ve ruined us, Nicholas. And you’ll never be more than a footnote in my story, a failure.”
She’s relentless, every syllable laced with the venom of years of manipulation, years of being told I had to live up to a name that never felt like mine.
And yet, I feel nothing. The anger I expect doesn’t come, nor does the guilt. Just a strange, quiet detachment.
When she finally pauses, her breath heaving, I tilt my head and meet her gaze. “You done?”
Her lips part, but no sound comes. For the first time ever, she’s speechless.
Because I’m not that boy anymore—the one who lived for her approval, the one who tried to twist himself into the perfect Harrington heir.
I’m done with her.
Done with being a Harrington.
I take a step forward, my hand outstretched, ready to grab her and drag her to the police. But before I can, one of her guards moves. The click of a gun being drawn is unmistakable, and the barrel rises to point directly at my chest. I freeze. And then the other guard follows suit.
The urge to raise my hands is strong, but I don’t.
“What, Mother?” I ask, my voice steady despite the hammering in my chest. “Are you going to let them shoot me?”
“Shoot you?” Novalee’s voice cuts in.
“Snickers, what the fuck are you doing?” Koen snaps. “Get out of there!”
But I ignore them. My focus is on Veronica, on the way her expression falters, if only for a second.
“What’s the plan, Mother? End your legacy here? In a dirty alleyway?”
“That’s it,” Novalee hisses. “I’m going after him.”
“Stay in the van,” Ezra growls out. “I already told the police where they are. They’ll get to him before we can.”
My focus remains on Veronica. Her hesitation is growing, the flicker of doubt in her eyes becoming harder to hide.
“Go on,” I bait, taking another step forward, daring her to act. “ Do it, Mother. Prove me right. End it all right here. I’ve destroyed everything else. Why not finish the job?”
I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, the sharp protests through the comms fading into the background.
Veronica’s eyes dart to the guards, then back to me, and I think she’s going to do it. I think she’s going to nod to give the order. But then she exhales sharply and waves her hand, and the guards lower their guns.
Holy-fucking-shit.
“Freeze! Hands in the air!”
I glance past Veronica and watch the police officers round the corner, guns raised. Her head whips around, her expression shifting to one of pure fury. When she turns back to me, I take a step back, my lips curling into a smirk that feels more like a goodbye than any words could, but I say it anyway, “Goodbye, Mother.”
Her eyes widen slightly as I turn and sprint. My gaze locks on the trash bin near the wall, and without breaking stride, I leap onto it. The metal rattles under my weight.
“Hey! Get down!” one of the officers yells, but I don’t stop.
From the bin, I push off, reaching for the edge of the balcony above. My grip catches, and I haul myself up, muscles straining as adrenaline propels me.
“Stop right there!” someone shouts from below, but their words are lost in the roar of blood in my ears.
I glance down briefly. Veronica is surrounded now, her guards stiff and motionless as the police bark orders, guns aimed. But I don’t stick around to watch it unfold.
Pulling myself fully onto the balcony, I take a second to catch my breath, my fingers gripping the edge as I steady myself. My heart pounds, but I can’t stop.
Jump. Land. Balance.
Repeat.
The rhythm keeps me moving, the chaos below fading into a dull roar.
“Nico, dammit, talk to me,” Novalee’s voice crackles through the comms, laced with worry. I must have gone silent too long.
Shit.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, my breath ragged. “The police have her, and I’m almost there.”
The van comes into view through the thinning crowd, parked like an island amidst the chaos. Koen’s leaning out of the passenger seat window, his eyes scanning the masses with laser focus. When his gaze lands on me, his face twists in relief and exasperation, the emotions battling for dominance. “I got him.”
“Koen Lane!”
My stomach sinks.
Heads swivel, and a ripple of recognition spreads.
“It’s Koen Lane! Koen Lane is in the van!”
The shouts grow louder, the crowd shifting again.
Can’t this be fucking over already?
“Fuck,” Sylus mutters while Koen pulls up the car window. “What do I do?”
“Drive,” I bark as I push off and leap to another balcony. The impact reverberates through my legs, but I keep going. “I’ll follow you. Just get moving!”
“Don’t get yourself killed, Snickers,” Koen snaps.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, my eyes fixed on the van as it starts to roll forward. “Just make sure you don’t either.”
The distance between us widens, the van moving slowly, but I quicken my pace, leaping to another balcony, even as my breath starts to burn in my chest.
Keep going. Keep moving.
Sylus maneuvers through the crowd with painstaking care while people are pressing closer, cameras flashing, hands reaching out. If he brakes, they risk being trapped or worse, overrun.
The van inches its way free, the crowd thinning until Sylus can finally accelerate. One more jump. My legs coil, and I leap to a rain drain that rattles under my grip as I slide down, hitting the ground hard. My knees jolt with the impact, but I push off, sprinting after them like some other people are doing, their phones still up and recording.
We’re gonna go viral for sure.
“Slow down!” Koen demands, probably having seen me in the side mirror.
“If I go any slower, we’re done!” Sylus snaps back.
A few moments later, the van’s side door slides open, and Koen leans out, his hand outstretched toward me.
“Come on, Snickers!” he yells. “Get fucking moving!”
I push harder, my lungs burning as the pavement blurs beneath my feet, and I overtake everyone else who’s following them.
A few more steps, and I stretch my arm, my fingers grazing Koen’s. The van jolts over a bump, pulling just out of reach.
“Shit!” Koen curses, shifting forward, leaning dangerously far out the door.
Levi scrambles next to him and braces himself against the van while extending his arm toward me too.
My legs scream in protest, but I push harder, forcing one last burst of speed. My feet pound the pavement, and I leap again, every muscle straining as I throw myself forward.
Levi’s fingers clamp around my wrist at the same time Koen’s hand locks onto mine. Their combined strength is enough to haul me off the ground and into the van.
I hit the floor hard, my chest heaving as I gasp for air. The door slams shut behind me with a finality that cuts off the chaos outside, leaving only the hum of the van and the pounding in my ears.
“You good?” Koen pants, his voice rough, his eyes scanning me like he’s looking for injuries I might not even feel yet.
I nod, still too breathless to get the words out, my pulse thrumming against my ribs.
“That was way too close,” Levi mutters. He’s pale, sweat glistening on his forehead.
“Yeah,” I manage after a moment, the adrenaline bleeding into relief that makes my limbs feel heavy. “Thanks for the help.”
Levi gives a small nod, his mouth twitching with the ghost of a grin as he drops onto Ezra’s lap. The sight of it makes something tighten in my chest, a strange, unfamiliar ache I can’t quite place.
Levi just helped Koen save me. After everything, after the tension, after the years of hatred hanging between us, he reached out without hesitation.
Maybe we can be friends after all.
As I try to catch my breath, Novalee drops to her knees beside me, and before I can fully register it, her hands are on my face, and her lips crash into mine, making the split in my lip sting like crazy, but I don’t fucking care. The kiss steals what little air I’ve managed to get back, leaving me dizzy in a completely different way.
She pulls back, her grip shifting to my hair as she tilts my head back, her eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?” Her voice is sharp, but there’s a quiver in it—fear barely hidden under her frustration.
A chuckle escapes me as I reach out to grab her hips with both hands. “Says the girl who jumped rooftops in a Lamborghini.”
“Don’t worry.” Koen cuts in as he climbs into the front of the van and onto the passenger seat again. “We’ll give her a lecture when we’re on the jet.”
“Sure thing.” Novalee grins at me, leaning in to peck my lips. “Come on. Let’s sit properly.”
She grabs my arm, and we move toward the left, where Alaric is sitting and leaning against the van wall with a cat crate balanced on his lap.
“You guys are crazy,” I mutter to Alaric while his cat glares at me through the bars like I’ve personally offended her.
He just huffs. “Says you.”
Novalee sits on my lap, and instinctively, my arms wrap around her waist. She leans back into me, resting her head against mine.
“Look at that.” Sylus laughs, shaking his head as he rolls down the window. A small gust of wind rushes in, ruffling Novalee’s hair as Pebbles flutters through the opening and straight toward Levi. “Your poop machine is back, Dove.”
Pebbles lands gracefully on Levi’s outstretched arm, her tiny claws curling around his sleeve for balance. Levi lets out a shaky breath before a choked laugh escapes him. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as he brings her closer, nuzzling his cheek against her feathers.
“Now that we’re all here…” Sylus fiddles with the dashboard, and a second later, “Everybody” blasts through the speakers.
A collective groan rises, dramatic and full of protest.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Koen mutters.
“Lucifer, take me now.” Ezra pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s genuinely in pain, which earns a snort from Levi.
“Oh, don’t pretend you’re not a closet Backstreet Boys fan, Ez,” Sylus teases. “I’ve heard you humming “I Want It That Way” on the bike.”
Ezra glares, but his reddening ears betray him. “Shut it, lunatic.”
Koen shakes his head, exasperated. “If I have to listen to this all the way to the jet—”
“To the jet and the thirteen-hour flight to Tuscany, yes,” Sylus interrupts with a mischievous grin. “It’s the we-defeated-the-villains-and-survived-the-impossible-con anthem. Learn to appreciate greatness.”
“I swear to God—” Koen starts, but Sylus cranks the volume, unabashed.
“Don’t act like you don’t know the words, Lane.”
Levi laughs as he starts to sing along, his voice terrible but enthusiastic. Novalee joins in, sweet but off-key.
I lean my head back against the van wall, a laugh slipping out as I let the chaos wash over me.
They pulled it off.
We pulled it off.
And for the first time ever, the weight of the Harrington name feels lighter, like it’s slipping off my shoulders entirely.
Whatever happens next, it doesn’t matter.
This, right here, is where I’m supposed to be.
And for the first time in my life, I feel free.