Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Koen
“Oh, shut up,” she snaps, her voice dripping with venom.
She’s all fire and sharp edges.
The hostility is almost reflexive, striking before anyone gets close enough to hurt her. A defense mechanism polished to perfection. And yet, it doesn’t feel personal. It’s not about me. I’m simply the unlucky recipient of whatever ghosts she’s still fighting.
Still, it puts me on edge.
I cross my arms, studying her, cataloging and categorizing every shift in her expression. The feistiness, the defiance, it’s all a show, a layer of armor as bright and distracting as her name and all the damn glitter—a front. I’ve seen it a hundred times. People hiding behind loud voices and sharp words because silence is too dangerous and might let the truth slip out.
But her? She’s different. She’s not just hiding. She’s actively guarding something, and the more I watch, the more I feel it. This undercurrent of tension, of something coiled tight and ready to spring .
Is it fear? Pain? Or something more dangerous that could burn us all if we’re not careful?
Whatever the reason, I don’t like it.
She’s an anomaly, and I don’t like not knowing what I’m dealing with. People are supposed to be predictable. Easy to understand. Patterns. But her? Every time I think I’ve got her figured out, she throws a curveball—like now.
And if I’m honest, part of me hates how much it bothers me. How much I want to pull back the layers and see what’s underneath. She’s chaos, and I’ve spent my life avoiding chaos. Predictability keeps us alive. Chaos will get us killed.
How would Uncle Oscar handle this?
Much better, for sure. And probably much gentler too. Oscar had this way of seeing through people without breaking them apart. He’d pull the truth out like a magician pulling a coin from behind your ear, leaving you wondering how the hell he did it. And he’d leave you better for it, somehow lighter, even if you didn’t deserve it.
I’m not Oscar, though. Not even close. I’m too blunt, too impatient, and definitely too cynical. But he taught me what I know, and I owe it to him to try.
I shift my stance, leaning into the tension between us, pressing just enough to see how she’ll react. Maybe I’ll get a clue. Maybe she’ll crack. Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself I’m still the one in control here.
“Know how lie detectors work?” I ask, letting a teasing edge slip into my voice. “They ask questions and make you tell the truth first, to see how your body reacts. That’s what I do. I pick up on how you act when you’re telling the truth. Then I watch how you change when you lie. It’s all about patterns.”
It’s a half-truth. Sure, patterns are part of it, but there’s something else, something unexplainable that lets me see through her .
She scoffs, but there’s hesitation behind it like she’s not sure whether to dismiss me or take me seriously.
“And girl…” Levi chimes in, “… he wouldn’t even need patterns to read you. Even I can read you right now.”
He’s been watching her as closely as I have, but not the way I am.
He’s amused.
I’m not.
There’s way too much at stake here—more than she could possibly understand. This isn’t only about tricks and illusions, not some game we’re playing under neon lights and half-truths. This is about survival, ensuring we don’t end up buried in the wreckage of our own plans. She’s a wildcard, a skilled, fiery wildcard, but even the best cards can burn you if you play them wrong.
I can’t afford to play her wrong.
I can’t afford for her to be anything less than what we need her to be. One slip, one misread, and everything we’ve built and are fighting for could turn to ash. The ghosts of the past are clawing at our heels, and Veronica isn’t the kind of enemy you fuck around with. She’ll rip us apart if we let her.
Glitter scoffs again, louder this time as if the volume will make it more genuine. “Patterns?”
“Yeah.” I step closer into her space, deliberately testing her reaction. She stiffens but doesn’t retreat. Ah . She’s competitive, prideful, and always ready to hold her ground. I’m not buying the act. Not entirely. “Eye movements, facial tics, body language all shift when someone lies. It’s not magic. It’s reading people. And knowing which people to pick because they show you how open they are to what you’re doing. A mentalist can read people’s true intentions from the tip of their noses in seconds.”
Something flickers in her eyes. Whatever it is, she shakes it off quickly. But I saw it. I always see what people want to hide.
And she hides a whole fucking lot.
“It’s just another field of magic,” I continue, acting as though I didn’t notice. “Instead of fast hands fooling the eyes, I get into people’s heads. The subconscious is easy to persuade when you’re in. It’s a skill, one you can learn.” I’m too close now, but I don’t step back. I need to see what she’ll do with this proximity. She’s clearly uncomfortable, her body tense. There’s something about this girl, this woman, that’s making me curious despite the alarms going off in my head, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. “Still want to learn?”
I don’t know if I can really teach her to get into people’s minds. It’s a skill you can learn, yes, but still, not everyone is capable.
What I absolutely need her to learn, and quickly, too, is how to keep others out.
I’m not the only mentalist in town. I’m just the best, and I have no idea what kind of people are working for Veronica. We can’t have her get close to Harrington and Nicholas only to be manipulated against us because she’s such an easy target.
Glitter’s throat bobs as she swallows, and she meets my eyes. “How does this even work?”
“There are five ways to hypnotize someone,” I start, holding her gaze. “The first is shock induction . You enter the mind through a moment of shock, catch someone off guard, say sleep , and they’re under. The second is a pattern interrupt , like when someone offers you their hand to shake. They’re willing, open, and that’s when you pull them into a trance.”
Her eyes don’t leave mine. They’re almost emerald green in this light .
“The third is what you’ve seen in movies… the pocket watch, the swaying pendulum. That’s fascination . We use the eyes to relax someone, bring them into a trance. Then there’s the relaxation method itself. The whole close your eyes, breathe, you know the drill.” Her posture softens a fraction, and I know I’m getting to her.
“And the fifth?”
I smile, knowing I’ve caught her attention. “ Conversation. But I combine one and two most of the time. When we are baffled, we become hyper-suggestible. And it’s the most effective with people who are already receptive.”
“Like me,” she mutters as if on reflex.
“Exactly. Like you. ”
She’s too easy to pull under. Too receptive.
Why?
I’ve had a lot of easy, gullible marks over the years, but I don’t think she’s one of them. I study her, still trying to figure out what it is that keeps her teetering between defiance and curiosity. She’s not the kind of person who lets her guard down without reason.
So why does she open her mind so easily for me?
My gaze wanders to her elegant neck, and I watch her pulse quicken.
“All right,” she says as if unfazed, but her heart is giving her away. “Teach me.”
That challenge in her tone tells me she wants to prove something to herself or maybe even to me. But she’s not ready. She doesn’t know how deep this will go, how exposed she’ll be.
Because we didn’t tell her.
Fuck.
“The reason hypnosis works is because I set up a pre-frame, something that primes your mind to be more receptive,” I explain before I can overthink what we’re doing .
Levi is still watching, amused but focused. He knows what I’m doing—testing her, pushing her boundaries—so he keeps quiet for once.
Her walls are up, but I’ve seen them crack.
I want to see it again.
It’s a sick kind of fascination.
“When you know it’s coming, you should be able to brace yourself, hold against it. But if I know how to bypass your defenses, it’s only a matter of time till I’m back in your head.”
Her lashes lower, and I catch a slight narrowing of her eyes—a defensive move. “Is that so?” she challenges, her voice a little tight, as if she’s trying to convince herself she’s got this.
It’s so easy to rile her up, to dare her into things. It’s almost cute.
Her lips press together, and for a moment, I notice how perfectly shaped they are, even when they form that stubborn line.
“You’re welcome to try and stop me.” I shrug. “In fact, I want you to. Put up your best walls. Let’s see if you can keep me out.”
She tightens her grip on her arms, those long lashes fluttering as she narrows her eyes again in determination. Those subtle movements, the micro-expressions she can’t hide, betray her more than she realizes.
“Go ahead,” she mutters, daring me. “Do your worst.”
A flicker of vulnerability.
Then uncertainty.
My fingers brush against her wrist, and her pulse hammers under my touch. It quickens, and I pause. Her freckles, barely noticeable, are scattered like stars across her nose.
Fuck, get a grip, Koen .
“This is the pre-framing,” I murmur, forcing myself back on topic. “Part shock, part making sure you’re letting me touch you willingly.”
I tug at her wrist, my other hand tapping her forehead with just the right amount of pressure. She shudders, then her body begins to melt, already giving in.
“Sleep.”
And just like that, her body relaxes against me. No resistance at all, even though I told her to try keeping me out. She’s letting me in, whether she realizes it or not. And God, the way she gives in so completely makes my cock twitch in my jeans.
She has no idea what it does to me to have her body soft against mine. It’s the way her defenses crumble, the way she trusts me subconsciously, that makes me want to take her apart.
I can’t do that, can I?
She’s a means to an end.
Her head dips, leaving her forehead resting against my shoulder, and I catch the faintest scent of her, something warm and sweet like pastries.
“You’re listening to me, but you can’t speak,” I murmur, the words slipping easily between us.
It takes fucking strength not to reach up and pet her hair.
I lean in a little closer, close enough to whisper in her ear. “Until I say the word pigeon , you’ll only be able to whistle like a bird. No talking. Just whistling.”
The command settles in, and as long as she’s untrained, she will continue to be powerless to fight it. My voice, my touch, it’s all she can hear or feel. “Wake up.”
She snaps back, blinking rapidly as she tries to regain her footing. Her lips part as if she’s about to speak, but—
Whistle .
A short, sharp whistle sounds from her lips, one that clearly wasn’t what she intended. I can see the frustration on her face, the way her brows pull together and her lips purse in anger. And it only makes her whistle again. She tries harder, but the results are the same.
Levi’s laugh breaks the tension as he doubles over in amusement. Glitter just stands there, her agitation growing with every sound that leaves her mouth—how her cheeks flush and her fists clench at her sides. She’s a proud person and embarrassed as fuck right now.
Oh well. That’s what a sassy mouth gets you.
“Look at her go!” Levi says between fits of laughter. “My Little Bird!”
I don’t laugh. I watch calmly as her skin reddens even more, and she completely loses her composure. I even stay calm when she snaps, stepping forward and shoving me.
The aggression doesn’t surprise me, but the force of it does. I stumble back, my foot catches on her bag, and I hit the floor. Hard. And something clatters to the floor between us.
One of my hearing aids.
Fuck.
My panic is sharp and sudden, piercing deep in my gut. I scramble quickly across the floor and snatch it up before she can get a good look.
I know she’s seen it when her eyes widen, and her lips form a circle as she inhales sharply. I tuck the hearing aid back in place, hiding it beneath my hair as if nothing happened, but I feel the shift of tension in the room.
She knows now.
And that’s a problem.
It’s the thing I’ve kept hidden from everyone who is not family because, in this world, weakness is something people will exploit .
That people have exploited.
And I can’t let her, let anyone , have ammunition against me.
Glancing up at her, I see guilt flash across her face for the first time since our unlikely meeting. I don’t care about that right now. My mind is racing at what this means, and my heart pounds even though my expression stays neutral. Controlled.
Too controlled, maybe, but I can’t afford to lose my face in front of her now too. She steps toward me as though she wants to help or maybe say something. But when she opens her mouth, all that comes out is another whistle.
I raise my hand to stop her. “ Pigeon .”
She blinks, the whistle turning into a long exhale and then a soft, “I’m sorry.”
Instead of responding, I stand and brush off the dust, keeping my expression as unreadable as I can manage. Inside, everything feels off-balance and uneasy. I hadn’t expected this. Not the shove, not the fall, and certainly not the look on her face right now.
There’s real remorse in her eyes.
She’s more than simply not okay. It’s not surprise or regret. It’s deeper, almost like fear, as if she’s genuinely shaken by what just happened. And it makes no sense to me. Why would she care that I fell on my ass?
“Are you hurt?” she asks in a whisper, and the last wall falls. It’s written all over her face.
She’s afraid of the idea of someone getting hurt because of her actions.
I swallow the urge to ask why that is and lie, “I’m fine.”
I feel exposed in a way I’m not used to, a way I hate. The imbalance between us is palpable now. She doesn’t know why it matters, but I do. If she talks, if she uses it against me …
No. She won’t get that chance.
I step toward her, assessing her. She tries not to flinch under my scrutiny, but it’s a visible effort. She’s rattled too. And then something clicks in my mind, and I reach out to grab her chin. My fingers are firm, but I’m careful not to cause pain as I tilt her head up, making her look at me. She freezes, her confusion obvious, and I lean in. Close. Closer than before. Close enough that I can smell her breath.
Whiskey.
“You’re tipsy,” I accuse flatly, the calm in my voice masking my disappointment. “Even though I told you to come sober.” Her eyes widen, and I can see the realization hit. She knows she messed up.
She opens her mouth, and I can practically see her scrambling for an excuse. She probably wishes she could only whistle now, but it doesn’t matter.
I straighten my posture as I release her chin but keep my gaze locked on hers. “I need you sober when you’re working with us. I don’t have time for slip-ups, and neither do you.”
Before she can say a word in protest, I reach for her wrist. My other hand lifts to her forehead, the same as before.
“Sleep,” I murmur, and like a puppet, she falls under again. “Listen carefully. You will never be able to tell anyone what you just saw. And from now on, you won’t be able to drink alcohol as long as you work for us. You’ll feel sick if you even try. I need you sober, always. ”
Her body tenses as her mind feebly tries to resist, but it’s no use. My control over her is absolute. At least, that’s what I want her to believe.
The truth is, hypnosis isn’t some magic spell. It’s neither foolproof nor permanent. You can’t plant a command in someone’s mind and expect it to hold for weeks. People use hypnosis as therapy to help them quit smoking, stop drinking, or break other habits. Like any therapy, it takes effort, repetition, and the person’s willingness to make it stick.
Without that, it’s just words.
Words that can be powerful, can push someone to do things against their will at that moment, sure. But after a while?
Just words.
Glitter doesn’t know that, and tipsy Glitter knows even less, and that’s what I’m counting on. If she believes it, if she’s convinced she’s under my influence, which she already told me as much, then maybe it’ll be enough. The placebo effect is powerful, and she’s pliable enough to believe she truly feels it.
She might bristle at the commands, hating them, hating me for them, but I can take it. If she truly believes she can’t drink or talk, then that belief alone will keep her in line.
“Wake up.”
Her eyes flutter open, and I’ve already taken a step back and blanked my expression as if I didn’t force her under again, as though I didn’t just take away a piece of her freedom. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t protest.
Interesting.
“You all right there, Glitter?” Levi’s voice breaks through the tension, his usual carefree grin still plastered on his face, but his eyes are wary as if he’s expecting her to blow up at any moment.
It would be deserved. What I did was awful, something I’ve never done to anyone.
Tough times and all that shit.
There are real stakes here beyond the possibility of her exposing my vulnerability.
She meets my brother’s gaze for a second before drifting back over to me and then briefly to my ear. The guilt is still gnawing at her, overriding what must be a myriad of other emotions.
Ah, that’s why. She’s still battling her demons.
Well, same, and I’m so over it.
“Mentalist lesson’s over for today,” I announce as I give her my back to walk over to Levi, allowing myself some deep breaths as I go. “Your turn. Let’s see what she’s got.”
Levi’s grin widens in excitement. He’s always eager for a show. I ignore the lingering tension between Glitter and me. What matters more is seeing what she’s truly capable of. I need to determine if all of this has been worth it, if she’s someone we can use and trust, if only temporarily.
She takes a breath, and I watch as she shakes off the tension. It’s almost mesmerizing the way she draws in a deep breath, her eyes flickering shut for a brief second before she opens them again, shaking off her stress.
She smiles as she crosses her arms over her chest, her body language shifting effortlessly into something more playful, more controlled. “All right…” she shrugs confidently, “… let’s have some fun.”
It’s like watching her put on a mask, slipping seamlessly into a persona. She wraps herself in allure and confidence that fool people into thinking they’re seeing all of her when they see nothing at all.
It’s her own disappearing act.
I continue to observe her closely as she moves toward Levi. She’s casual, acting like this is a game, but I can see the gears turning in her mind. She’s trying to anticipate his actions. Good.
Levi, on the other hand, is relaxed, open, and unguarded, which is his status quo and perfect for seeing what she can do. She circles him and brushes her fingers against his glittery sleeve. I can’t help but be amused by the way she leans in, pretending to charm him and how Levi responds with an exaggerated smile.
“So…” She grins, “You think you’ve got something worth losing?”
Levi chuckles and leans against the stage as he plays the part. “Oh, I’ve got plenty, Little Bird.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Her fingers brush his chest as if she’s fixing his collar, but I catch the sleight of hand as she slips her fingers into his back pocket and effortlessly pulls out his wallet.
He doesn’t even notice.
She steps back, twirling the wallet between her fingers with a triumphant grin. “Looks like you’ve already lost something.”
Levi glances down in surprise and then lets out a chuckle. “Come on, that’s basic shit.”
She shrugs and snarks back, “So basic that you couldn’t prevent it?” Then she tosses the wallet at him.
Levi catches it, shaking his head as he opens it to check its contents. “Nothing to it, really—”
“Looking for this?” she interrupts, holding up his black credit card.
Not bad.
Also not impressive.
Levi’s eyes go wide. “What the—”
He reaches for the card, but before he can grab it, she makes it vanish from her hand, holding up her empty palms. “Oops.”
Okay. Better.
Levi blinks, trying to figure out where it went. “Where the hell—”
She grins, stepping closer, tugging the card from behind his ear. “You’re not very good at keeping track of your things, are you? ”
I have to suppress a laugh at the way Levi stands there, completely dumbfounded.
Fine, maybe she’s better than I thought.
Before Levi can grab the card again, she makes it disappear once more, slipping it into his jacket’s pocket. “You…” she gives him an innocent look as she toys with his shirt again, “… should really be more careful.”
Levi is still laughing as he checks his jacket, though it turns confused when the card isn’t where she put it. “Okay, seriously, where is it?”
She angles toward him and plucks the card from his collar like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Right where you left it.”
Levi reaches out again, more determined this time, but she tosses the card up in the air, and when she reaches out to catch it—nothing. Her hands are empty again, and the card is gone.
Holy shit.
I inch closer so I’m standing next to her now, wanting to observe her as closely as possible. She’s playing this perfectly, and I want to see how she’s doing it.
She wiggles her fingers and encourages Levi’s attention to stay on her empty hands, giving him a playful smile. “What? You think I’m going to make it that easy for you?”
Her elbow brushes my side when she shifts her stance, and the slight contact makes me shudder. I force myself not to show it in my expression and ignore the way my pulse just quickened.
Her newfound confidence is hot as fuck.
“Come on, Glitter, where’s it gone now?” Levi whines, but I’m sure it irks him to know that she’s playing him that much. He’s not patient.
She casually shrugs and tilts her head. “Maybe you should check your pants pocket. ”
Levi pats himself down quickly, his expression shifting from confident to confused as he checks every pocket. “There’s nothing. I—”
“Oh, right, sorry,” she cuts him off with a roll of her eyes. “I must’ve mixed up the twins.” She turns to me, her grin widening. “Koen, could you check your pockets for me?”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow, but I humor her and reach into my pocket. I freeze when I touch the plastic card hidden there. Then I pull it out slowly as my eyes flick up to meet hers again.
Holy fucking shit.
Levi’s jaw drops, then he lets out a burst of laughter. “No fucking way! How did you—” I toss the card back to Levi, who catches it, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m gonna have to start keeping my hands on everything when you’re around.”
She flashes him a mischievous grin. “Maybe you should. Or maybe you should accept that what’s yours is mine now too.”
“All right,” Levi admits, still grinning. “You’re not bad.”
No, she isn’t.
However, I’m not convinced.
Not yet.
Card tricks are one thing, but we’re talking about a life-or-death situation here, and I can’t ignore how pliable she was earlier.
She crosses her arms, and I can read in her face that she still feels the thrill of outsmarting us. “So, am I good enough to know more now?” Her gaze shifts between Levi and me, her tone and posture all demanding.
“You’re good, Little Bird.” Levi glances at me long enough for me to see the hesitation in his eyes. “Real good. As for knowing more… ”
We can’t know for sure until we have Alaric’s go .
She glares at him. “You’re seriously still keeping me in the dar—”
“We’re not done yet,” I cut her angry rambling off before she can pick up steam.
“Yeah.” Levi flashes another grin. “Give me your number, Little Bird, and I’ll let you know where and when to meet us tomorrow.”
She studies us, and I clock the moment she decides not to push back. “Fine.” She’s biding her time. She knows we’re still stringing her along, but she’s hooked now.
And that works for me because we’re doing the same. We need to know how much we can trust her and if we can involve her in something so important.
If we can trust her at all.