Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Alaric
A wave of dizziness washes over me as I slowly wake up from a dreamless nap, and my stomach growls, a low rumble in the silence of my room. The curtains are drawn, the room steeped in a darkness that mirrors the state of my soul. The faint smell of stale cigarettes lingers in the air, mixing with the heavy weight of isolation.
I shift, and that’s when I feel it—a weight on my chest, the gentle rise and fall of a small body.
I crack an eye open and find two glowing eyes staring back at me, unblinking.
Of course.
The damn cat.
“Really, Jinx?” I mutter, trying to roll over, but she only settles deeper into my chest, her tail flicking lazily.
Her green gaze is piercing, relentless. I blink, trying to figure out how she even got in here, and when I glance at the door, I notice it’s ajar.
Did someone let her in? Or did she push it open herself?
It wouldn’t surprise me if she had. The cat can do magic.
She’s the only one who cares enough to check if I’m still alive, still breathing. The others have given me space, but Jinx? She never lets me hide for too long.
She’s been here so many times to wake me up, pulling me out of the pit I’ve dug for myself. And every time, without fail, it works because she won’t stop staring, won’t stop pressing her little paws into me until I stand and do what she wants.
Jinx is relentless, a constant, and part of me hates that I need it, need her, to keep moving.
Her eyes bore into me now, and it’s like she knows, knows I can’t stand being looked at anymore. Not after everything. Not after the way they stared at me in prison, sizing me up, waiting for me to break, or worse. Not after the way those guards used to watch me, like I was less than human, like I was a thing to be controlled, handled, punished.
I hate it. The weight of someone’s gaze, the way it makes my skin crawl. Even now, three years out, I can still feel their eyes on me, waiting for me to mess up. It’s like they’re burned into my memory, ghosts I can’t shake.
Oscar knew that. He saw it from the moment he walked into my cell. I didn’t have to tell him what prison had done to me. He just knew. He saw me, and for some reason, he decided I was worth saving.
When I got out, it wasn’t like flipping a switch. I was still a mess, a fucking shell of a person. I’d barely survived prison, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to survive the outside world. But Oscar? He didn’t give up. Not once. He stuck by me like it was his personal mission to pull me out of the hole I’d dug for myself. He didn’t push too hard or expect me to magically heal overnight. He was just there. Patient. Steady. Always knowing when to talk and when to simply sit in silence.
He acted like my damn therapist without even trying. There were days when I couldn’t even leave the couch, and he’d sit next to me, flipping through some random magic book, casually asking if I wanted to learn a new trick. Other times, he’d take me on long drives in that ridiculous red Mustang of his, blasting music and pretending like we were just two guys killing time. But every mile we drove, every stupid joke he made, chipped away at the weight pressing down on me.
It wasn’t just the big moments, like the first time I went out in public or the first time I laughed without feeling like a fraud. It was the small ones, too, the way he’d hand me a cup of coffee in the morning without a word or he’d sit with me during the nights I couldn’t sleep. He made me feel human again.
And somehow, without even noticing, I started wanting to live again. I wanted to show up for him the way he showed up for me. I started working with the twins, helping with their schemes, and, for the first time in years, I felt like I had a purpose.
Oscar didn’t just save my life. He gave me a reason to want it back.
By the time he died, I’d gotten to a point where I could go out and enjoy the world again, at least a little. As long as the guys were with me, I could step outside without the walls closing in. We’d go to bars or magic shows, even just wander around the Strip for hours. It wasn’t perfect. I still couldn’t stand being alone in a crowd and still caught myself checking every shadow for danger. But with them by my side, I could almost forget the fear. I could almost pretend I was normal.
Almost.
And then he was gone.
Now, I’m right back where I started, locked inside my head. Only this time, there’s no Oscar to drag me out of it .
It’s been months since I’ve left the house. Hell, I’m barely able to leave this room most days. The thought of stepping outside is enough to send my heart racing, my chest caving as if there’s a weight on it. This house has become a different kind of jail—a place I’ve built around myself, with walls just as high and unbreakable.
I don’t belong out there anymore.
Enjoying things. Living.
Not after all the ways I’ve failed.
Jinx doesn’t care. She’s not waiting for me to explain or justify why I can’t leave. She doesn’t care about my guilt, my fear, or how broken I feel. She’s hungry, and in her world, that’s reason enough to drag me out of my misery.
Her purring rumbles against my palm, and I chuckle despite everything. She’s fucking persistent. And right now, that’s the only thing keeping me from completely sinking.
“Fine.” I let out a long sigh, running a hand over her back. “You want your breakfast?”
Jinx slowly blinks, which I swear is her version of a yes.
I push myself up slowly, gritting my teeth as the dizziness washes over me again. Jinx hops off me to stretch lazily on the floor before padding to the door, looking back at me as if to say, Are you coming or what?
For a brief moment, the dread of going downstairs, leaving my room’s safety, stalls me. My heart pounds in my chest, and I feel the edges of panic creeping in.
It’s just downstairs.
Just a few steps, nothing more.
It might as well be a thousand miles.
Still, she waits for me, her green eyes steady.
Can’t let her down.
I turn and catch my reflection from the darkened screen of my laptop, a ghost of who I used to be. The man looking back at me is a stranger, haunted by shadows and regrets I can’t outrun.
I pull on a black T-shirt that barely skims my skin, hanging a little loosely on me now. I know I have to get back to a routine, a schedule—work out, eat, and help Koen and Levi with whatever schemes they have going on. Oscar didn’t pull me out of prison and give me a purpose, only for me to fall back into my hole three years later.
He saw something in me and believed in me when no one else did.
Except he’s gone now.
Because of the plan I’d made.
And I’m left adrift, wondering if I still belong in this fucking house as part of the chaotic family Oscar built.
My gaze returns to Jinx still sitting patiently next to the door.
“Fine, I’m coming,” I grumble, my head spinning even worse as I stand and wince. I’m starving . I haven’t eaten in two days, and it shows.
My body aches with a hunger that’s more than physical. Still, eating is too much effort, like I don’t deserve even that small comfort.
Dragging a hand through my messy hair, which I’ve neglected so badly that it barely looks blond anymore, I shuffle after Jinx.
I guess if anyone’s going to get me out of bed, it’s going to be this damn cat.
Following her down the stairs, I pause halfway down as the warm, comforting smells of coffee and bacon hit me from the kitchen.
Jinx meows, reminding me of the priority—her food.
“I got it, I got it,” I mumble, heading toward the enormous kitchen. “You know, you could have asked the one that’s already up and let me sleep. ”
She just gives me another look.
All right.
Of course, Koen is there, singing softly as he moves around with little effort. I hesitate in the doorway, unsure if I should say something.
“Morning, Ric,” Koen greets, not turning around, as if he’s sensed me standing here. “Coffee’s almost ready.”
It’s a simple statement, but it feels loaded. An invitation.
Acknowledgment.
“Thanks,” I mumble as I walk over to the pantry.
I grab Jinx’s food from the cupboard and pour it into her bowl. She’s at it immediately, purring as she eats. As I lean against the counter and watch her, the world feels… manageable.
For a moment.
The smell of bacon wafts over, hitting me harder than before, and my stomach growls again, louder this time.
Koen glances over his shoulder, catching the sound. “You staying for breakfast? I’m making enough for everyone, and Levi and I want to talk to you about something.”
“Sure.”
They probably want to talk about when I’m leaving. Figuring out when I’ll stop being a burden. I’m not paying rent or chipping in for food. Hell, I’m not doing anything .
Not that the Lane brothers need money. But charity isn’t their style, not the way it was Oscar’s. He was the one who saw our broken pieces and decided they were worth saving.
At least Sylus and Ezra do their part.
I’m an anxious, traumatized mess, unable to do anything but survive.
“You all right?” he asks quietly but direct as he finally turns to fully face me. His brown eyes are full of a concern I don’t want to acknowledge .
“Yeah,” I lie and look away, pushing a hand through my hair and feeling its weight settle between us.
I deliberately focus on the swirling patterns on the granite countertop. I don’t need to look at him to know he sees through me. He always does. Koen has that way about him—this quiet perceptiveness that’s as comforting as it is unsettling.
He would be a shitty mentalist if he couldn’t do that.
“He wouldn’t want us to fall apart,” Koen whispers. It’s the first time either of us has mentioned Oscar out loud in weeks. “We’re his family.”
“Levi and you are his family. He was your uncle. I was just—”
“Don’t you dare talk down the love he had for you,” he cuts me off. “Or I’m going to make you write Oscar loved me like a son three thousand times.”
The barest hint of a smile flickers to life, and I finally look up, meeting his gaze. His eyes are narrowed at me in challenge, and I know he absolutely would use his unfair tricks against me to make me do it.
I’ve never questioned Oscar’s love.
“This is all my fault,” I whisper, finally voicing what has tortured me since the moment I saw him lying on the floor backstage. “If I hadn’t… if Oscar hadn’t brought me here, if I hadn’t had the idea…”
I can’t finish. The guilt threatens to crush me.
He was the second person I loved who died because of me.
Koen’s hands go still on the counter, and his eyes are filled with an understanding that almost knocks the air out of my lungs. “ None of this is your fault, Ric.“ He raises his eyebrows as if he can’t believe I would think such a thing.
Yeah, right.
“Oscar would’ve found his way into this mess with or without you. Hell, he was already in it when you guys met. She did this. It’s her doing. Not ours. Not yours . Got it?” I don’t respond, letting the words linger in the space between us. “You think I don’t feel it too? Every damn day, I hear his voice in my head, and it’s all I can do to keep moving. But we have to. For him. For us.”
“It’s different for you, Koen. You didn’t fail him. You didn’t put him into position to die.”
“You think he’d blame you? He wouldn’t, Ric. He saw something in you worth saving. Why can’t you see that too?”
I bite my lip, keeping from giving him another sarcastic answer.
I’m not looking for a fight with him.
“Now sit down and eat,” Koen adds, his tone softening slightly. “You look like shit.”
I hesitate, but eventually, I walk to the table and lower myself into a chair. When Koen starts to put plates piled with food on the table and sets one with eggs and bacon in front of me, the air feels thick, as if I’m carrying it in my lungs, choking on it.
A little while later, Sylus strolls into the kitchen, his dark hair tousled and his usual air of nonchalance settling around him like a second skin. His eyes lock onto me before a genuine smile spreads over his face, and then he’s by my side, sliding into the seat next to me.
“Hey, bro,” Sylus greets, reaching out to place a hand on my shoulder, but then he pauses and pulls his hand back, thinking better of it.
I loosen my grip on the fork I’d subconsciously gripped in my fist.
Thank fuck.
I can’t stand to be touched anymore. Every hand on me during those four years in jail was only meant to hurt, whether it was guards or other inmates. And I deserved it.
I got into juvie when I was almost seventeen. They called it youth detention to make it sound softer, but it wasn’t. Still, juvie was bearable. Tough, yeah, but survivable. The real nightmare started when I turned eighteen. That’s when they moved me to an adult prison, which was brutal in a way juvie never could be. There was a code inside those walls, and word traveled fast. It didn’t take long before everyone knew what I was in for.
They all knew I had killed her.
And nobody likes a girlfriend killer.
They didn’t care that she was everything to me, that I didn’t mean to do it, or that it was an accident. They didn’t care about my side of the story at all. Why would they?
After a while, I stopped defending myself because, honestly, what was the point? I carried that guilt, and the beatings, the isolation. I took them as my punishment.
Then, when I turned twenty-one and had six months left on my sentence, Oscar came into the picture. From the moment he walked into my cell, I knew he was different. He wasn’t broken like the rest of us.
Oscar was there because Harrington had framed him, some bullshit corporate scheme. He only had three months to serve but treated me like a person, someone worth something, unlike everyone else in there.
And we made a plan.
He helped me find a glimmer of light in my darkness, and in return, I shared everything I knew and helped him scheme.
When his time was up, I figured that was it. I was convinced no one would be waiting for me when I finally got out. I’d resigned myself to that too. But on the day my sentence was done, and I walked out of those gates, Oscar was there, leaning against his Mustang, waiting for me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He saved me in more ways than I ever thought possible.
The fear of touch, though? It’s not something that quickly goes away. The guys get it, and for the most part, they respect that boundary.
“Nice to see you down here,” Sylus says easily, pulling me out of my thoughts, his tone so devoid of judgment it throws me off balance for a second. Like he’s genuinely glad I showed up with no strings attached. He doesn’t push or pry or fill the space with questions or commentary. He simply leaves the words hanging in the air between us like a lifeline I’m not quite sure I’m ready to take.
But this is Sylus. He acts like a child most of the time, with that unhinged energy that can light up a room or make you want to throttle him, depending on the day. He’s too much, too loud, and too ridiculous, but then there’s this other side of him, the one that sees straight through the walls you’ve spent years building. He knows when to rein it in and when to push, when to throw out a joke, and when to sit in silence.
Sylus might seem like chaos in human form, but he’s a fucking genius, both with his head and his heart. He is emotionally astute in ways that can be unnerving like he’s cracked the code to understanding people before they even open their mouths.
There’s a flicker of something in his expression. Hope, maybe? Or simply patience, the kind that says he’ll wait as long as it takes for me to grab that line. Because that’s Sylus too. Beneath the jokes, the games, and the constant stream of nonsense, he’s steady in ways that make you want to trust him, even when trusting anyone feels impossible.
I clear my throat, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. “Don’t get used to it,” I say, aiming for casual and landing somewhere closer to defensive.
He grins, sharp and crooked, like he knows I don’t mean it. “Oh, I never get used to anything. Life’s more fun that way.”
His words are light, but there’s a depth to his gaze that makes my stomach twist. It’s not pity but understanding—the kind that doesn’t need to be spoken out loud to hit like a punch to the gut.
Dammit, Sylus.
He always makes it harder to keep my walls up.
When Levi enters the kitchen next, his energy instantly fills the room. He’s humming softly to himself, that usual bounce in his step, his bleached blond hair perfectly styled into beach waves as he makes a beeline for me. Without hesitation, he leans down and kisses my cheek, leaving a sticky lip-gloss print.
I flinch, brushing him off. “Dove, we talked about this,” I grumble. “You can’t just kiss people randomly.”
“You say that every time, but you secretly love it.” Levi laughs brightly, then scrunches his nose. “Ugh, take a goddamn shower, will you?”
They understand my boundaries, for the most part.
I shoot him a look, but he doesn’t care. He never does. Across the table, Koen catches my eye, and there’s a look there—one that says, see? You belong here.
Do I?
I used to think so.
But without Oscar, the doubts are creeping back. I don’t deserve to be here. Losing her was proof of that. Oscar’s death? Just a second reminder of what happens when I get close to people.
Ezra steps in as quiet and composed as ever. He’s tall, but his presence never seems to take up too much space. His features are sharp but refined. With wavy brown hair and eyes as dark as onyx, there’s a quiet intensity to him that always lingers beneath the surface.
When his eyes meet mine, something flickers there—something I can’t quite place—but it tugs at my chest all the same.
He’s not a fan of me.
Hell, I’m not either.
I turn away only to catch Levi staring at Ezra with a look of longing I’ve seen a hundred times before. It’s clear as day, but no one else ever seems to notice.
Ezra sits down next to Levi, glancing at him with an intensity in his eyes that turns to warmth.
“Eat while it’s hot,” Koen calls from the kitchen as small paws land on my thighs, claws digging in.
God, you’re only eight pounds. How the hell does that hurt so much?
Jinx’s purring rumbles through her small body as she curls up, making herself comfortable as if this was her rightful throne. She looks up at me with those green eyes, unbothered and very much at home.
Levi notices and calls me out immediately. “Hey, keep the damn cat away from the table. She’ll go after Pebble.”
“I will as soon as you keep your damn bird away from the table,” I shoot back, feeling oddly protective of the cat in my lap that isn’t even mine.
Levi snorts. “The bird isn’t just a bird. Pebble’s the fucking star of the show.”
“Well, if only stars have the right to exist in this house…” I say a little too harshly but catch myself and let the words trail off as the implication settles.
“Of course not.” Levi’s grin falters for a moment, and his gaze softens, the amusement draining from his face. “Fine. You can keep your damn cat at the table, but if she so much as looks at Pebble for too long, I’m kicking her out.”
I glance down at Jinx, and her eyes barely glance at Pebble as if to say she’s too good to bother with a pigeon. I smile at that.
“She isn’t my cat,” I mutter, almost as if to convince myself as I stroke over her nose. “She’s Oscar’s.”
Sylus huffs a laugh from beside me. “Maybe she’s not your cat, but you’re definitely her human.”
As if to agree with him, Jinx starts to purr contentedly in my lap.
Sylus starts picking at his bacon, and Levi is humming again, the sound irritating but oddly comforting in the silence. I stare at the food in front of me, my appetite still nowhere to be found, even if my stomach growls again. Begrudgingly, I pick up my fork anyway and force down a few bites of scrambled eggs.
When Koen finally sits at the table, he clears his throat, his gaze sweeping over us. “So, yesterday, we were at Oscar’s grave.”
The fork I’m holding halts midair, and guilt surges through me. I haven’t been back since the funeral because I’m always stuck in this damn house, stuck in my damn mind.
I glance over at Sylus, who raises an eyebrow as if this is news to him, too, which brings me a small, bitter relief.
“And, while we were there, we… found someone,” Koen says, and Levi chuckles, clearly more entertained by the memory than he is. “She could help us with a new plan.”
“ She ?” Sylus perks up, leaning forward. “And what new plan?”
Koen doesn’t indulge Sylus’s questions and continues, “She’s a thief. A good one. ”
“A thief?” Sylus repeats, intrigued but cautious when he looks at me.
My eyes shift to Ezra, and sure enough, he looks completely unfazed. He probably knew all about this already. Of course he did.
My stomach knots, a sinking feeling growing as I realize where this conversation is heading.
I’m the thief here.
“She stole my watch,” Koen says calmly, looking straight at me. “Clean off my wrist. And I didn’t notice.”
Sylus lets out a low whistle. “No shit. That’s… impressive.”
I scoff, unable to stop myself. “Impressive? She stole a damn watch, and you think that’s impressive?”
It’s not only impressive, it’s borderline impossible. Koen is always so damn tuned in to his surroundings. It’s like he’s got eyes in the back of his head. I keep my face neutral, refusing to give this mystery woman any credit.
Especially if they intend to have her replace me.
Koen meets my eyes, unfazed by my tone. “It wasn’t a bad lift, especially considering she was tipsy. If she can do that when she’s not at her best, imagine what she could do sober. She might need some training.”
Training. The word grates on my nerves, and I feel a bitter laugh bubbling up, but I swallow it. They could just ask me. I don’t need any training, and I damn sure don’t need anyone stepping in to do what I do. Maybe I fucked up. Maybe three months of hiding in my room convinced them I’m no longer capable of doing what I was brought here to do.
The thought makes anger flare hot and unreasonable in my chest.
“You want to train her? For what, exactly?” I snap. “What does she have that I don’t? ”
Fuck, did I really just ask that?
Koen and Ezra exchange glances, and the silent communication between them grates me. They’ve always acted like the group’s parents, probably because they’re older. Ezra is thirty-three, and the twins are going to be thirty in a few days. But Levi is… Levi , and Sylus is twenty-five, while I’m the youngest at twenty-four.
Levi chimes in, “Well, for starters, she’s got tits, a banging body, and her face card is giving.” He grins at me. “Not that you’re not pretty, blue eyes , but Nicholas Harrington? Not exactly into guys.”
Which he’d learned the hard way fifteen years ago.
“So what? You want her to cozy up with that dickhead?”
“Exactly.” Levi nods enthusiastically. “She’s got the skills, the looks, and if she can get close to him… she’ll have the access we need.”
The air in the room shifts, the weight of what they’re suggesting sinking in.
They want to use her as bait.
A tool to get close to Harrington’s son.
I see the logic behind it. If she has the kind of charm and skill that could get her close, that’s something I could never do. And yet, it feels like a slap in the face, like I’m being sidelined, cast aside for something I can’t control.
“She could get into Veronica’s office and swipe her laptop,” Koen says simply as if he’s already mapped out the whole plan in his head.
Ezra shakes his head, crossing his arms. “I don’t think taking anything is a good idea.”
“No, we leave everything exactly where it is,” Sylus cuts in smoothly, his voice calm but carrying that spark of excitement he gets when something risky is on the table. “But I like the idea. She could get into their private rooms, give me access to their network.”
“And she could probably get close to Belmont, too,” Levi adds, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. “If she can snag his master key card to the hotel, that would make our lives a hell of a lot easier.”
“I told you I’d get the RFID skimmer to work eventually,” Sylus says, a cocky edge in his voice. “I mean, I already hacked into the Plaza’s CCTV system and pulled the footage that nails Veronica. While I was in there, I got access to their security logs. Grabbing the code to pair with the skimmer is just a matter of time.”
“Sure, time,” Levi agrees. “Or a little charm and cleavage.”
Sylus lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Because that’s a totally normal strategy.”
Levi shrugs, the grin still playing on his lips. “I’m simply saying… people get careless when there’s a pretty face involved. Especially Belmont.”
I don’t miss the way Sylus’s smirk falters, his gaze sharpening as it lands on Levi. “If we’re playing that card, we’d better make sure that girl is on board first. Not everyone is the type to enjoy being objectified.”
“She doesn’t need to enjoy it,” Koen says flatly. “She only needs to play the part.”
There it is, that hard edge in Koen’s voice, that makes my jaw tighten. Sylus catches it, too, because his eyes narrow. “Careful there, Koen. You’re talking about her as if she’s a tool, not a person.”
The room goes quiet. Levi, of course, is the first to break it, exhaling loudly as if the weight of it all doesn’t touch him. “Fine. Let’s call it strategic asset utilization . Better?”
Sylus snorts, shaking his head, but the tightness in his jaw is still there. I glance at him, and his gaze flicks to mine. There’s something unspoken in his look—anger, maybe? Or frustration.
I don’t say anything, but the knot in my chest tightens. This whole thing is already starting to feel like a bad idea.
Across from me, Ezra shakes his head, skepticism written all over his face. “I can’t believe you’d trust a stranger with this. A thief. ”
His words aren’t surprising. Ezra is a detective, and distrust runs in his veins. His disdain for my line of work has always been obvious. I’ve lived under the same roof with him for three years now, and I’m pretty sure he still doesn’t fully trust me, even after everything.
Koen leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll keep an eye on her. She’s not going to run. She’s got her own motivations, and we’ve got leverage.”
I grind my teeth. “Leverage or not, you think she’s going to pull off something that even I’d have trouble with? Come on, you know I’m the best when it comes to this, and it’s not only about pickpocketing. It’s about reading people, blending in, being unseen.” I glare at Levi. “You think she’s going to be able to charm her way into Harrington’s inner circle?”
Levi shrugs, that playful grin still hanging on his lips. “She’s got potential. More than potential. And she won’t be alone. We’ll be there, pulling the strings.”
“Which is why we want you to train her.” Koen circles back to the point of this conversation. “Test her. See if she’s got what it takes.”
They want me to train her? To teach her everything I’ve spent years perfecting? I shake my head again, more adamant this time. “No. No way. I’m not going to babysit some random girl who’s probably going to get herself and all of us caught or even killed.”
“Come on, Ric.” Sylus turns to me, his expression serious now. “If she’s got the potential Levi says she does, you could make sure she succeeds. She could be the key to pulling this off.”
I can’t ignore that it’s all a blow to my pride. “I’m not doing it.”
Koen doesn’t back down. “You’re the best person for the job, Ric.”
“I don’t care,” I snap again. “I’m not training anyone. If you want her to pull this off, she’ll have to do it alone, or you’ll have to find someone else.”
Levi leans back in his chair, his grin fading as he watches me closely. “You know you’re the only one who can assess if she’s actually good enough.”
“I said no.”
Koen’s voice is hard as he cuts in. “You know this isn’t about you.” I glance at him, and his expression darkens. “This is about getting justice for Oscar. You, more than anyone, should understand that.”
Of course I do, but it doesn’t make this any easier. I push back from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, and Jinx jumps off my lap. “Find someone else. I’m not doing it.”
“Ric—” Koen starts, but I cut him off with a slap on the table that emphasizes my parting word.
“ No. ”
Without waiting for a response, I leave the kitchen, and even though I can feel their eyes on me, I don’t look back.
They want me to hand over everything I’ve worked for to some girl who’ll never be good enough anyway?
Not a chance.
They can kick me out if they’re done with me.
I’m not going to help them replace me.