Page 2 of Veil of Shadows

At first, it’s just a feeling, like a light pressure in the air around me. A tickle at the back of my neck, a vague sense that I’m not alone. I tell myself it’s nothing—just the isolation of the hour—but then I hear it.

Footsteps. Quiet but steady. Too close. Too deliberate. I pick up my pace, my heels tapping faster against the concrete, but the sound follows, mirroring my steps.

I glance over my shoulder. Nothing. Just the dark stretch of street behind me, the dim light of a lamppost casting long shadows. My breath catches in my throat. It could be nothing.

But my gut twists with doubt, gnawing at me. I quicken my steps, faster now, the rhythm of my heels growing more frantic. I should feel safe here—this part of town is busy during the day, not far from the main street—but the feeling creeps in deeper. I feel eyes on me.

I can hear my dead dad’s voice in my head, calm and steady as it always was. He was a cop, who had spent countless hours teaching me—how to move, how to notice the smallest details, how to protect myself. "If something feels off, trust it. Your instincts never lie. Always know your surroundings," he'd said. "Never let anyone get close enough to trap you."

I reach into my bag, my fingers brushing the cool edge of the keycard. I clutch it tight, ready to hold it like a weapon if I need to. I know what to do.Stay aware. Create distance.

My heart thuds harder in my chest now, but I force myself to breathe. I pick up my pace again, my heels slapping against the pavement, but then the footsteps speed up, matching mine exactly. No mistake. Someone’s following me.

I turn the corner, hoping the sudden movement will throw them off. But the footsteps don’t stop. They’re right behind me, without pause.

I can’t take it anymore. I glance over my shoulder just as the figure steps into view.

A man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. He’s walking briskly, his eyes scanning the street. He waves at someone, and I watch as a woman steps forward from the door of a restaurant, her smilelighting up the darkness. She rushes into his arms, and they stand there, laughing, oblivious to the world.

They walk into the restaurant together, hand in hand, disappearing into the warmth inside.

I freeze. My pulse slows, my mind racing.Of course.I feel ridiculous now. He wasn’t following me. He wasn’t a threat. Just a guy meeting a woman for dinner.

But as I wave down a taxi, the doubt still claws at me. I glance over my shoulder again, just to be sure. The street behind me is empty. No one. Just the dark stretch of sidewalk, stretching out into the night.

Still, the feeling doesn’t go away.

I slip into the cab, pulling the door shut behind me, but my mind is spinning. Maybe I was just paranoid. But... maybe not. Something in my gut is telling me I wasn’t imagining it. The feeling, the weight of being watched—it’s still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

I stare out the window, trying to calm my nerves, but even as the city lights blur past, I can’t shake the feeling. Someone’s still out there. Someone’s still watching.

Chapter Two – Viktor

The club pulses with the low thrum of bass, a heartbeat that seems to vibrate through the floors. Smoke hangs thick in the air, swirling lazily under the dim lights, casting long, wavering shadows that dance along the walls. I keep to the edges, where the light barely reaches, a ghost among the living. My eyes lock onto her.

Alyssa Hall.

She sits in a shadowed corner, fingers moving quickly over a small notebook. The dim light catches her profile—sharp cheekbones, furrowed brows, lips pursed in thought. She’s lost in whatever she’s writing, completely unaware that I’ve been watching her for the past twenty minutes, from the moment she walked out of the lab and into the club. Anyone else in this place would miss the intensity in her eyes, the way she bites her lower lip when she’s thinking hard. But not me.

I know exactly why she’s here. She’s sniffing too close to things that should remain buried. For weeks, I’ve had my men keeping tabs on her, reports coming in at all hours. She’s getting closer—too close. And yet, here I am, watching her from the shadows instead of pulling the trigger.

Alyssa doesn’t even realize that she’s following a trail I carefully set for her. She had gotten a tip from someone who claimed they had answers to what she was working on, and the curiosity she can’t help but indulge pulled her straight into this club. What she doesn’t know is that the tip was a lie. I had my men plant it. A simple misdirection, a little bait. I wantedher here, in this moment, feeling like she was one step closer to something important, something that would pull her deeper into my world. I need her to feel like she’s in control, like she’s winning—because that’s the only way to keep her close.

I’ve done my homework on Alyssa. Her father, Frank Hall, was a cop, a good one, who died from cancer when she was sixteen. Her mother is an alcoholic, a shadow of the woman she could have been, living with Alyssa’s older sister, Kara, in some upscale neighborhood, attending rehab while her sister picks up the pieces. It’s her sister who funds most of Alyssa’s lab work, pouring money into research projects that no one but Alyssa seems to care about.

Five years ago, Alyssa was on the news—front and center—praised for detecting the viral disease, Colonvi 54, that would soon ravage the world. They called her a genius, a hero, but she didn’t want any of it. She loves keeping a low profile, avoiding the spotlight, staying in the shadows. And I like that about her. The quiet strength she has, the way she handles the chaos around her with a calm that always feels just a bit too controlled.

I watch her now, trying to memorize every detail. Her eyes are sharp, a deep brown, the kind that seem to see everything and nothing at the same time. Her nose is straight, delicate, but there’s a strength in her features that doesn’t match her small frame. Her face is oval, soft but with an edge to it, like she could break someone’s jaw with just a glance if she needed to. She’s not tall, but she carries herself with the kind of confidence that makes her seem larger than she really is.

Tonight, she’s dressed in black, as always. A fitted jacket with sharp, clean lines, paired with dark jeans that mold to her legs in a way that’s both practical and damn near perfect. Her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, but stray strands escapeto frame her face, making her look like she just stepped out of some high-stakes situation. Her lips are pressed together in a way that makes me wonder if she’s always thinking, always calculating. She has this way of looking at things, of studying the world, that makes it feel like she’s already figured you out before you even open your mouth.

“Viktor.” Lev Garner’s voice is a quiet rumble behind me. He slides up, casual, like he’s just wandered in for a drink. But his eyes are sharp, following my gaze straight to her. “You’re still on this?”

“She's trouble,” I mutter, not looking at him. “She’s getting closer every day.”

Lev lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “She’s just another nosy investigator. You’ve dealt with worse.”

“Not like her,” I say. The words slip out before I can stop them.

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