Page 56 of Scattered Glitter

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, letanyone, 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.

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