I really needed to stop underestimating Cecilia.
She couldn't actually read minds, of course. That would've made dealing with her significantly easier. Instead, she did something far more dangerous—she read people. Too well.
Even now, as I sat on the edge of my bed, I could still feel the lingering imprint of her gaze, that sharp, knowing smirk right before she walked out the door. She had read me perfectly, anticipated my every reaction, and moved exactly as she wanted.
That was the terrifying thing about Cecilia Slatemark.
She didn't manipulate people with grand schemes or long-term ploys. She saw you, decided what you were, and then acted—and it always seemed like she won.
'Wow,' Luna's voice chimed in my mind, 'she's really something, huh?'
'Something terrifying,' I corrected.
'Something crazy,' Luna mused, her tone half-amused, half-exasperated. 'And you? You're a crazy guy, so it all evens out.'
I frowned. 'I am not crazy.'
Silence.
A beat passed.
Another.
'Luna?'
