Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
A sudden thud sounds behind me, making the van rock. I jump, my heart lurching in my chest as Alaric’s voice crackles through the earpiece. “We’re off, Sy.”
“Jesus, Ric. Warn a guy.” I glare at the van wall like it personally offended me.
Alaric is off to the Heights, Sparkle to the Plaza. Levi is still talking, so all I have to do right now is keep the drone steady and on him.
“Sorry,” Alaric answers with amusement in his voice.
Jinx meows a sharp protest from the crate beside me, her green eyes narrowing in disapproval. She bats the door of the crate with her paw as if to say I demand better service than this.
“You scared your damn cat.”
“She’s not a damn cat,” Alaric retorts.
“And she’s my cat, too,” Nova’s voice cuts in.
“She tolerates you,” Alaric corrects dryly.
Jinx hisses, her tail flicking. I raise an eyebrow at the screen in front of me that displays what the drone is seeing. “Well, she’s not tolerating this whole stuffed-in-a-crate thing. Tell me again why the cat couldn’t wait on the private jet with literally everything else we own?”
A beat of silence fills the static before Alaric answers. “Because chances are, we’re not making it to that damn jet, and I’m not leaving her behind.”
I sigh dramatically, putting on a mock drawl for good measure as I reply, “You really gotta work on your rattitude, Ric. Of course, we’re gonna make it.”
“Rattitude?” Nova asks.
“Yeah, like attitude, but for rats and other small critters. Like your bossy-ass cat.”
Jinx meows again, loud and annoyed. I toe the crate slightly. “Easy, girl. I’m not the enemy here. Your daddy put you in that box.”
Alaric grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like idiot.
“Can we please focus and shut up?” Nova asks, panting slightly. “I’m going in.”
There’s a rustle of static and then Alaric’s low voice. “Already in.”
“Be safe,” I mutter, my attention locked on the screens in front of me again while I tweak the drone angles, pulling back enough to capture more of the audience.
Jinx meows again, and I shush her.
It takes fucking concentration to keep this running smoothly. The illusions, the lights, the timing, it’s all riding on me. But that’s not even the hardest part of tonight. Nope. That one’s still to come when Koen has to fly that damn car from rooftop to rooftop.
I fucking hope we all come out of this shit alive. If we don’t, I swear I’ll riot. I hate how goddamn risky this plan is, but if we’re going to bring Veronica down and put ourselves in the line of fire, we’ll damn well do it in style.
Koen’s voice comes through the speakers, pulling me back to the moment. “I will pick a few people out of the audience for a little hypnotization. What do you say?”
The crowd erupts in cheers, their energy noticeable even from where I’m sitting, secluded in the van.
“Since this show is also for you, Veronica.” Koen steps even closer to her. “Let’s make it personal. I’ll read some names right out of your mind. Look around and find some people you know. That’ll make it more exciting, don’t you think?”
The crowd cheers, obviously liking that idea, but my focus stays locked on Veronica.
For the briefest moment, her polished mask slips.
She catches herself quickly, her poker face sliding back into place as she tilts her head slightly, giving Koen a pointed look.
“I told you, Koen, I’m not interested in being hypnotized. ”
“And you won’t be,” he assures her. “All I need is a little touch, just my fingertip on your forehead, and I’ll pluck the names right out of your head. May I?”
He lifts his hand slightly like he’s already weaving a spell. The tension in the air thickens as Veronica hesitates. Then, her gaze shifts briefly to Levi, standing behind her.
I’ve been constantly muting the twin who isn’t talking to the audience so I know the microphone won’t catch it, but we all hear it over the earpiece when Levi leans in and whispers. “Come on, this will be fun. You know we wouldn’t do anything that could harm you.”
Her shoulders slightly relax before she nods, probably knowing that saying no would make her look bad in front of half of Las Vegas. “Fine.”
“All right, folks!” Levi’s voice rings out, playful and commanding all at once. “If Koen calls your name, don’t make us chase you. Come right up to the stage, no hiding! We have cameras everywhere. We know where you are.”
I sit back, my fingers adjusting the joystick to make the drone glide lower, skimming just above the audience’s heads. They duck and laugh, the perfect distraction to take the edge off Levi’s words.
But make no mistake—it was a warning.
I’ve already clocked all three of the bastards we need, and I was fucking relieved to see them here. The text I sent this morning as Veronica was curt and to the point.
There is a show tonight in front of the Heights. I need you there.
It was her style, but who knew if they were really the lapdogs we made them out to be? For all we knew, they could’ve cut the leash.
But here they are.
Loyal to the end, or maybe too afraid to be anywhere else.
Koen steps closer to Veronica and places his finger on her forehead, his other hand outstretched toward the audience as if drawing invisible threads from the air.
Veronica is still smiling, but there’s a stiffness to her posture, her shoulders drawn back a little too tightly.
“Let’s see what we’ve got.” Koen’s fingers twitch slightly, his free hand moving theatrically. “Harold Foster.”
Veronica stiffens even more.
Yeah, bitch. It’s going down.
I turn the drone to focus on the human Band-Aid of a man. Foster appears surprised but then saunters toward Veronica and the twins. Beneath that beige suit and well-rehearsed smirk, he’s nothing but a coward who sells sex like poker chips.
When I first hacked his cloud to gather evidence, I saw his work up close and the fallout of the numbers he treats like inventory. He’s fucking sick.
I spent weeks piecing it all together, finding patterns in payments, coded schedules, and transportation logs.
When I connected the dots, Ezra took the intel to the police.
We intercepted some of his shipments and saved the girls before they disappeared into whatever nightmare he had planned for them.
We were able to stop a handful of his operations, and a few of his lackeys ended up behind bars.
But it didn’t take long for Foster to catch on.
He started using proxies, erasing his tracks, and moving faster than we could anticipate.
Every time we thought we had him pinned, he slipped through the cracks in the law.
And the girls suddenly were never where they were supposed to be. The police showed up to empty warehouses or fake addresses, and Foster always got away, smirking as if untouchable.
My fingers tighten on the controls until the plastic creaks under the pressure while Foster’s gaze flits over the crowd like he’s still the one holding all the cards.
Not tonight, asshole.
Veronica shifts on her heels, and her eyes narrow ever so slightly, tracking Foster as he approaches them. “Koen, what—”
“Ah, there he is, amazing. Let’s see who’s next.” Koen’s brow furrows in exaggerated concentration, playing to the crowd as he touches Veronica’s forehead again. “Marcus Blackwood.”
The crowd parts, murmuring as Blackwood makes his way to the stage, everything about him calculated, dangerous.
His reputation isn’t just whispers in dark alleys.
He’s Veronica’s enforcer, her blunt instrument, sure, but he’s far from stupid.
As he strides toward the stage, the way his eyes sweep the crowd makes my skin crawl.
It’s like he’s already scanning for exits, threats, and weak points.
He’s never unprepared. Never complacent.
Until tonight.
Veronica’s mask cracks further. She’s not even trying to hide the tension radiating off her now, and her gaze flits briefly to Nicholas, who is still standing at the edge of the crowd, watching but offering no reaction.
“Thank you for joining us,” Koen greets vaguely in Blackwood’s direction.
“Let’s see who else will have the pleasure.
” Veronica steps back, not letting Koen touch her again, but he tilts his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he listens to the imagined whispers of the ether.
He flicks his wrist with a flourish. “Richard Belmont.”
I turn the drone again to capture Belmont’s wide eyes.
Yeah, fucker.
I should fuck you up for daring to touch my Sparkle.
“Koen, what is this about?” Veronica hisses, putting her palm over the microphone she’s holding.
Her eyes follow Belmont as he approaches as if willing him to disappear back into the crowd.
Koen shrugs innocently. “Those were the names that were on top of your head.”
I let the drone hover over the scene, catching every detail of her reaction. Veronica’s forced smile twitches at the edges, and I can almost hear her thoughts scrambling to assess what Koen is doing and how much of a threat it poses.
My lips curl into a grim smile. “Gotcha.”
Koen’s arms spread as he addresses the crowd. “Everybody, a round of applause for our brave volunteers!” The audience erupts into cheers, oblivious to the tension.
“Let’s loosen up, shall we?” Levi calls to the crowd. “We’re here to have some fun, right?” He grins as he throws an arm around Blackwood’s massive shoulders, eliciting a glare from him that Levi ignores, but somehow Pebble looks a little nervous.
I know Ezra’s hyperventilating right now.
Belmont adjusts his tie, and Foster shifts nervously on his feet, while Veronica watches them all, her smile now razor-thin, eyes darting from them to Koen, trying to decipher the game.
Oh, she knows she’s fucked. And soon, so will the crowd.
We’ve set the stage perfectly. The right words. The right lies. We got them here.
Now, all that’s left…
… is to make them fall.