Page 101 of No Charm Done

Burke stood beside Vex with his hands clasped behind his back, radiating a kind of rigid disapproval. And Chuck the Investor? Chuck turned toward the bookstore and waved. Not a friendly wave. A knowing wave. A little finger-wiggle of acknowledgment aimed directly at Luna and the gathered witches. His expression said, I see you, I know what you’re planning, and this is going to be delicious.

Luna’s stomach dropped.

“He knows,” Delilah breathed.

“Of course he knows.” Scarlett’s voice was flat. “Question is whether he cares.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Luna forced steel into her spine, into her voice. “We do this anyway.”

Because if they didn’t—if CastR launched successfully and Vex’s app went live, turning magic into a purchasable commodity for anyone with a smartphone and a credit card—the balance between magical and non-magical worlds would collapse. And not gradually. It would be chaos.

Easy. No pressure at all.

Aphra moved up beside them, her long hair pulled into a tight bun. “Ready when you are, ladies.”

Violet, vibrating with nervous energy, nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve been practicing. I can do it. I know I can.”

“You’ll do great.” Luna hoped it was true.

In the gazebo, Vex cleared his throat. The cameras swiveled to him. Even from across the green, Luna saw the instant he switched into performance mode. Shoulders back. Smile wide. Every inch of him shouted: watch me, love me, give me your attention.

“Here we go,” Mama said softly.

Luna took a breath. Held it. Let it out slowly.

You’ve got this. You trained for this. You can do this without⁠—

—without Shaw.

Her chest ached.

Stop it. First things first.

Vex spread his arms wide and began to speak.

* * *

Shaw woke to the sound of two men arguing about overtime.

“—saying is, I got a cookout,” the first voice said. Male, young, aggrieved in that particular way of twenty-year-olds who’ve just discovered the world wasn’t fair. “My girl’s family. Her mom’s making ribs. You know what it’s like to miss ribs?”

“I know what it’s like to miss a mortgage payment.” The second voice was older, tired. “They’re paying triple overtime, kid. You can eat ribs any day.”

“It’s the Fourth⁠—”

“It’s a regular workday. Now stop your sobbing and help me with this cable run.”

Their footsteps receded down one of the aisles—hot or cold, Shaw couldn’t remember which was which—and the argument faded into the general mechanical scream of the place.

Shaw kept his eyes closed and took inventory.

Still breathing. Good start.

Still in the server room. Less good.

Arms suspended over his head, wrists caught in restraints that burned like spite. Not good at all.

Everything hurt. His wrists had gone numb, promising future agony. His head throbbed. It was the kind of pain that suggested he’d been unconscious a while. Long enough for the world to keep turning, long enough for it to be morning, long enough for it to be⁠—