Page 11 of Illusionist
Silas holds my gaze for another heartbeat, that smirk still playing at his lips. Then he backs away with a mock salute to his boss.
“Your wish is my command.”
4
SILAS
Igrab my performance chains from the supply trailer, taking my time selecting the heaviest set—the ones with the trick locks that stump even seasoned escape artists. If this woman wants to prove herself, she'll do it properly.
When I return, Nova's standing several feet from Elias and Jules, arms crossed tight over her chest, looking anywhere but at them. Smart. Jules has shifted position entirely, straddling Elias's lap while he grips her hips and guides her movements with zero concern for their audience.
The wet sounds of them fill the dark. Jules's breathy moans tangle with Elias's deeper groans—a soundtrack that would send most people running. Nova just stands there, jaw set, studying the carnival lights like they owe her an answer.
“Hey.” I jangle the chains to get her attention. “Come on, show me what you can do.”
She turns, relief flickering across her face before she masks it. Those green eyes drop to the chains in my hands, and I catch the slight widening—she recognizes quality when she sees it.
“Those aren't your typical performance chains.” She steps closer, away from our shameless leader.
“You said any lock in thirty seconds.” I hold them up, letting her see the complex mechanisms. “Triple-pin tumblers. False gates. Most professionals need two minutes minimum.”
She takes them from me, running her fingers over the metal with the care of someone who truly knows their craft. Behind us, Jules cries out, and I watch Nova's shoulders climb toward her ears.
“Is this... normal?” She keeps her voice low as I help her wrap the chains around her torso.
“Which part? The exhibitionism or the complete lack of boundaries?”
“Both.”
I shrug. “You get used to it. Elias does what he wants, when he wants. The rest of us learned to work around it.”
“And you're okay with that?” She produces two more bobby pins from her hair, already bending them into shape.
“I’m okay with a lot of things that would shock your delicate sensibilities.” I circle her slowly as she starts to work and I start to count internally. “Question is whether you can handle our particular brand of chaos.”
She snorts, manipulating the first lock with steady hands. “Trust me, I've seen worse.”
“Have you now?” I stop directly behind her, close enough to feel the heat coming off her skin. “Care to elaborate?”
The lock clicks open.
Twenty-three seconds left, and she’s already working on the second lock, those green eyes narrowed in concentration.
“No elaboration necessary.” Her voice carries that same deflection from earlier, but her hands never falter. “Everyone's got their demons.”
“Demons.” I taste the word, watching her shoulders shift as she manipulates the pins. “That what you're running from?”
The second lock pops open. Fifteen seconds total.
She moves to the third without missing a beat. “Who says I'm running?”
“The way you showed up here, middle of the night, looking over your shoulder every few seconds.” I lean against the trailer beside her. “The cash bulging in your jacket pocket. The way you flinch at loud noises.”
Her fingers still for half a second before resuming their work. “You're observant.”
“It's a survival skill.”
Behind us, Elias's voice rises in a string of curses filthy enough to peel paint. Jules laughs, breathless and wild. Nova's jaw clenches, but she doesn't look back.
