Chapter 30
THIRTY
There are a hundred reasons not to trust them, to walk away now, to protect whatever is left of my battered heart. Maybe that’s why I say yes because I’m tired of keeping everything locked up, of holding onto walls that only serve to isolate me.
“Stop flirting with my girl, Dove,” Sylus warns in a low rumble as he leans in, letting his lips brush my ear before he nips the side of my neck.
I swat him away half-heartedly. “Seducing Nicholas won’t work if you leave a fucking bite mark.”
He pulls back enough to meet my eyes, a grin spreading across his lips. “Can’t help it, baby,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. “Your neck turns me into a damn vampire.”
I roll my eyes while a reluctant smile edges onto my face. “Yeah, well, save it for later, Dracula. I have to be at the gym in a few.”
“You think he’ll show?” Sylus asks, kissing the place he just nipped.
“We’ll see.”
I fucking hope so.
Sylus chuckles, his fingers brushing lightly down my arm.
Ezra leans against the stage next to Koen, one eyebrow arched. “Are you two a thing now?”
“Yes,” Sylus answers at the exact moment I blurt out, “No.”
Koen snorts, his gaze dropping to the floor as he tries and fails to hide his amusement. Ezra only looks between the three of us, his expression unimpressed. “Well, that clears things up,” he deadpans. “Anyway, if we’re going to trust you, I need to know you can handle yourself.”
I lift my chin as a grin breaks through. “I don’t get caught.”
He crosses his arms, the corner of his mouth twitching with a hint of challenge. “Except I caught you just fine.”
“I don’t get caught when shit isn’t staged and a trap. And when I do, I know how to get out of it.”
“Yeah, right.” He raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like it. Those cuffs behind your back held you in place pretty nicely, didn’t they?”
“Cuffs are nothing.” I snort. “I can get out of those in seconds. The real problem was the room with one exit. You blocked it. My plan was to be out of the cuffs before you managed to drag me to a car.”
Or at least, I’m pretty sure I would have made that plan eventually.
“You can get out of cuffs?” His gaze sharpens, scrutinizing me as if he’s trying to decide if I’m bluffing.
The challenge is unmistakable. “Prove it.” Ezra pulls what appears to be the same pair of cuffs I already had the displeasure of meeting from his leather jacket, holding them out in front of me.
I stand, moving from Sylus’s lap, my eyes locking onto Ezra’s with a hint of defiance as I hold out my wrists.
He doesn’t hesitate, snapping the cuffs into place, the cold metal biting into my skin.
He steps back, crossing his arms over his chest, watching me intently.
I glance at Koen, who steps closer, his eyes glinting with curiosity.
I hold out my wrists to him, and he checks the cuffs, giving them a tug before his gaze shifts, catching the glint of the bracelet on my wrist. His eyes soften, lingering on the chain, then a smile spreads across his face, slow, warm, almost reverent, like he’s seeing something precious.
“They’re locked tight,” he murmurs, but his focus is still partly on the bracelet.
“Let’s see it, then,” Ezra grunts out.
“Watch closely, Detective. This is gonna be quick.” Taking a steady breath, I roll my shoulders, sizing up the cuffs. The room falls silent, and their gazes press in on me from all sides.
The cold metal bites into my skin, but I barely notice it as I slip my hand into my pocket, fingers brushing against my matchbox. I open it with a flick of my thumb, and there it is, a small, straightened paperclip tucked beside the matches.
I pull it out smoothly, and Ezra’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t say anything.
I twist the paperclip and slide it into the keyhole of the cuffs, my fingers quick. It only takes a few precise movements to find the catch, feel the subtle resistance, and then I hear it—the tiny click as the first cuff releases.
I switch to the second one without hesitation, repeating the same process. Within seconds, I feel the familiar give, the metal loosens around my wrist, and the cuffs drop onto the floor with a soft clink.
“Told you it’d be quick.” I lift my gaze, locking eyes with Ezra, a triumphant smile tugging at my lips.
Ezra’s eyes narrow slightly, his brow arching. “Can you do it behind your back too?”
“Yeah.” I give a confident nod, my smile widening. “I can do it with my eyes closed, front or back, stealthily if needed.”
His gaze flickers to the matchbox in my hand, then back to me. “You always carry that with you?”
Before I can answer, Sylus chuckles from where he’s still sitting. “She does.”
Ezra doesn’t smile. Instead, he frowns and tilts his head. “Salt and sugar look the same.”
I frown, irritation sparking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“All right, that’s enough.” Before Ezra can answer, Levi steps between us. “Come on, Little Bird. Let’s take a break.”
The tension Ezra leaves behind feels like a hand still gripping my arm, even as Levi pulls me away.
It takes a few deep breaths before I can let it go, and I try to focus on anything else.
Levi leads me up to the stage without a backward glance.
“Let’s not poke the bear,” he mutters and then immediately shifts gears without hesitation when we come to stand in the middle of the enormous, polished stage.
“You’ve shown me all your tricks. How about I show you what I can do to cool off a little? ”
Levi takes a step back, his eyes still locked on mine, but his expression is now focused, intense.
The bubbly, lighthearted version of him I’ve gotten used to is gone.
Instead, standing in front of me is someone else—a true showman, illusionist, someone who knows how to capture the stage and make it his own.
“Have you got fire for me, Little Bird?”
I hand over my metal matchbox without a word. He glances down at it, admiring the craftsmanship, before looking back at me. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.
“Thanks.”
“Wait, there’s a little something…” He trails off as he reaches toward my ear. In one smooth motion, he pulls something from behind it—a feather, long and iridescent.
“Really?”
“Payback.” He shrugs, giving me his usual teasing smile, back to the Levi I know. “You know, I can do magic too. They even call me the best.”
“Oh yeah?” I smile. “Sounds like someone’s a little full of himself, Dove.”
His smile instantly brightens when I use his nickname. “Don’t believe me?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Meh.”
Truth is, I know they call him the best. Everyone does. And I don’t doubt for a second that he’s earned it, but I can’t help leaning into the teasing, enjoying when his eyes light up with the challenge. This back-and-forth banter almost feels like friendship.
Levi tilts his head, his grin turning sly as he starts to circle me. “Ever been to one of our shows?”
“Nope. Seen a clip or two online.” I keep my expression blank, even as I fight back a smile. “Looked all right, I guess.”
Shit was impressive, but truth be told, I’d been mostly fascinated by Koen, but I will be keeping that to myself.
“All right, she says.” He lets out a mock gasp. “Just all right,” he murmurs as he lets his finger glide over my shoulders and comes to a stand in front of me again. “Well, this show is just for you.”
Levi pulls a match from my box and holds it between his fingers. He doesn’t strike it or even move a muscle. He simply looks at it, and the match ignites, a small flame flickering to life at the tip.
“Seen that one,” I murmur, but a pang goes through my chest as I say it.
He hums as he looks past the flame and straight at me. “How about this?”
Taking the feather he produced moments ago, he holds it to the flame, and it catches instantly with a sudden whoosh.
There’s a burst of light and heat. The flame grows, swallowing the feather, and just when I think it’s going to burn away completely, a shape emerges from the fire.
Pebble flutters out, her wings catching the light, and lands gracefully on Levi’s shoulder.
“Holy shit!” I gasp as I stumble back a step.
Levi chuckles, reaching up to stroke Pebble’s head, cooing words of affirmation at her that I can’t quite make out.
“How did you do that?” I ask, still stunned.
Pure mischief sparkles in his eyes as he asks, “Wanna see it again?”
He steps toward me and brushes a hand against my other ear, producing another feather from behind it. I snort, shaking my head, but there’s no denying my growing awe at his performance.
Levi takes another match, strikes it, and holds the feather to the flame.
I watch closely, trying to catch the trick, but there’s nothing.
The feather burns, the flame flares, and then, just like before, a pigeon emerges, wings beating as it takes to the air.
It flies up to the ceiling, and Pebble flutters off Levi’s shoulder to join it, the two of them circling above us.
A laugh escapes me, and I turn to watch them fly. Levi steps up behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders, pulling me back against his chest.
“This is beyond beautiful,” I whisper, my eyes following the pigeons as they spiral through the air, their wings moving in perfect harmony.
Levi leans down, his breath warm against my ear. “You good with pigeons?” he asks, almost teasing. “Most people think they’re gross, but I thought you liked it when Pebble came to say hello at Rosie’s grave.”
I smile, still watching the birds above us. “I think they’re beautiful survivors,” I say quietly.
“Good,” Levi murmurs. “Then this shouldn’t bug you.”
He steps back, cooing again, and Pebble—at least, I think it’s Pebble—swoops down, landing back on his shoulder.
The other pigeon follows, fluttering down to perch on mine, its tiny claws gripping my shoulder, the flutter of its wings tickling my ear.
I laugh, feeling the lightness of the moment, the magic of it.