Page 131 of Fool Me Twice

Hart’s heart thumped like crazy.

“Okay, I would once again like to say that I called that shit,” Black declared, pointing at them.

Ash huffed, but surprisingly, he didn’t outright oppose them like he had before. His eyes simply moved between them, like he was seeing them truly for the first time without the veil of his own preconceptions.

That was all Hart could ask for.

Cane wasn’t Mr. Slatehollow. He wasn’t going to win any personality pageants. But he made Hart happy beyond words. And Ash was his brother. He didn’t want them to be at odds.

“I’m glad you told us,” Fix said.

Hart met his eyes and smiled at him. “If I could go back and do this all over again, I’d pick the same team to be a part of. I wouldn’t change a single one of you. This team isn’t whole without all of you.”

“Or you. Exactly as you are,” Fix said.

Hart nodded, truly fighting back tears now.

“Sorry to break this up, but I need to head out,” Midas signed, getting up from his chair with a clink of jewelry. “I have an active case at the moment that I’ve been putting off, so fill me in on the debrief later. Hart, it’s really good to have you back. The house’s organization has really gone to shit.”

He held Hart’s gaze for a second longer, and Hart gave him a smile, knowing that no matter how detached Midas seemed sometimes, he was still one of them. And he cared. In his own way.

With a final nod, Midas flounced out of the house, the rumble of his vintage car and Morgan’s sigh of disappointment accompanying his retreat.

“That was at least fifteen minutes,” Ash said, checking his watch.

“I had money on ten,” Black said, and Ash groaned, taking the slates out of his pocket and slapping them into Black’s palm.

“I was sure he’d last at least half an hour.”

Black shook his head. “It’s like you’ve never met him.”

“Did you just bet on how long Midas would be around?” Damir asked with a creased brow, reminding Hart there was somebody there who didn’t really know them all that well.

Someone who didn’t really belong.

Something inside him settled at that. Damir wasn’t part of their team. Cursed or not, he wasn’t there to replace Hart.

“They do that,” Hart said to him, catching his eye as he spoke. “It makes them happy.”

“Interesting team,” Damir said, his eyes straying back to Wren briefly before he managed to tear them away.

“Too bad you had to meet us under the most awful circumstance,” Hart said, trying to bring the conversation back to what needed to be said.

“Perks of the job,” Damir said. “Sadly, if it weren’t for things like this, we’d probably never meet each other.”

There was a weight to his words, and Hart knew Damir was talking about Wren.

“In any case, I’m really grateful for all your help. What you did for us…for me…”

Damir shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through his thick tresses. “Just copying the best.”

“What?” Hart asked.

“I’m aware you don’t really put too much stock into it, but this team is pretty famous, Hart,” Damir said, looking around at them. “We all know your old cases. We’re all aware of your methods. And even if they don’t really match perfectly with our own, we’ve studied the way you do your stuff. What I did today was just to finish what you started, using your methods.”

“But I didn’t even know I was cursed,” Hart said. “Or that I could be, for that matter.”

“You knew Cane was,” Damir said. “You had the theory about the moving curse, and you were right about it. You just didn’t realize it had moved to you. That’s the only detail you missed.”

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