Page 4 of Veil of Shadows

Back in the lounge, Lev leans against the bar, a grin playing at the edges of his lips.

“Well?” He arches an eyebrow, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. “Did she get the message?”

I sink into the worn leather chair, grabbing the bottle of whiskey on the table. The burn of alcohol fills my throat, but it does nothing to stop the knot tightening in my chest. “She’s... relentless,” I mutter, pouring another drink. “Doesn’t scare easy.”

Lev’s grin widens. “Stubborn ones always think they’re untouchable,” he says with a soft chuckle. But there’s nothinglight in his gaze. It’s sharp, cutting, like a blade searching for a weak spot. “But if that doesn’t work, there are... other ways to handle it.”

I don’t answer him right away. The taste of whiskey lingers on my tongue as I stare into the glass, watching the light catch on the amber liquid. But all I can see is Alyssa’s eyes—clear, defiant, as if she already knows how this game plays out and refuses to fold.

“She’s not just some investigator, Lev,” I say, my voice low. “There’s something... different about her.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I hate how they sound—like I’m making excuses.

Lev's smirk falters, his eyes narrowing. “Different? Viktor, she’s just a woman poking her nose where it doesn’t belong.” He pushes off the bar and steps closer, his tone softening, almost like he’s trying to reason with me. “If she’s getting under your skin, you need to remember what’s at stake. The Bratva won’t tolerate any loose ends.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Your dad won’t tolerate any loose ends.”

I stare at him, forcing my expression to stay cold, blank. But inside, it’s chaos. Alyssa isn’t like the others who’ve crossed my path. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t beg. She stares back with that maddening calm, like she’s holding a hand full of aces and dares me to call her bluff.

Lev’s words echo in my head, but it’s my father that haunts me. The old man had stepped back from running the Bratva years ago, handing things over to the Directors and making me the Overseer. But everyone knows we are just his puppets. He’s the real power, the one who calls the shots, even from the shadows. And if he finds out about her… about Alyssa… thingswill get ugly. He won’t care about the business. He’ll care about his legacy, and he’ll make sure she’s dealt with. No hesitation. No mercy.

I shove the thought aside, but it lingers, like a dark cloud I can’t outrun. If she’s getting too close, I’ll have to deal with her. But right now, the only thing that matters is making sure my father never finds out.

“She’s a problem,” I admit, setting the glass down with a hard thud. “But I’ll take care of it.”

Lev doesn’t look convinced. He tilts his head, his eyes never leaving mine, searching for a crack in the mask. “You’re hesitating,” he says quietly, almost like he’s disappointed. “Why? Because she’s got pretty eyes and a spine of steel?”

I swallow hard, a muscle ticking in my jaw. He’s too damn perceptive. But I can’t admit it. “She’s just another threat,” I say, the words coming out too fast, too forced. “One I’ll deal with, like all the rest.”

Lev holds my gaze for a moment longer, then nods, the grin slipping back into place. But it’s colder now, more calculated. “See that you do, Viktor. Or I will report this to the Directors and your old man. And trust me, they won’t be as... gentle.”

He walks away, disappearing into the haze of the lounge, leaving me alone with the echoes of his words.

I lean back in the chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way my heart is pounding. Alyssa’s face flashes in my mind again—those eyes, the way she held her ground, refusing to be cowed. A lesser person would have backed off by now. Hell, most would’ve been running for their lives.

But not her.

The whiskey is cold against my lips as I take another drink, letting it burn its way down. But it doesn’t drown out the thought creeping into my mind: I’m not just trying to silence her. I’m trying to protect her. From myself. And I do know one thing: this isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

Chapter Three – Alyssa

The tension in my apartment wraps around me like a coiled snake, squeezing tighter with every breath. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. Maybe it was Viktor Coleman’s cold warning last night, the way his eyes glinted like a knife in the dark. Or maybe it’s the sense that my world is shifting beneath my feet, slipping away like sand.

I try to ignore it, but the memories come rushing back.

Five years ago, when I first detected Colonvi 54, I was flooded with media attention. It had been a breakthrough, a miracle really—finding something no one else had even suspected. I should’ve felt proud, but all I could feel was the pressure of being in the spotlight. That was when they came to me. The Bratva.

I can still see the day clearly—Rogers Coleman walking into my lab with that heavy air about him, his presence overwhelming. He had a steel-gray gaze that could cut through a person, tall, broad, like a mountain with the kind of power that made you instinctively step back. His dark suit seemed to swallow up the light, and when he moved, it was like the air itself was parting for him. His voice was low and smooth, yet there was something jagged in it, something that hinted at all the things he could do—things I didn’t want to think about.

And then there was Viktor.

At first glance, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would catch your attention. But the moment he stepped into that lab, something about him clicked. His dark hair, neatlystyled, framed a face so strikingly handsome that I caught myself staring a little too long. His jawline was sharp, sculpted like it was made to draw eyes. He wore a tailored suit, dark and crisp, that made him look like he belonged in a place far above where I was.

And when his eyes met mine—those cold, knowing eyes—he studied me in a way that made me feel like I was the only person in the room, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. There was an intensity to him, something silent, but unmistakably hot. His gaze, steady, almost possessive, didn’t let go. He didn’t have to say a word to make me feel it. I remember the way his lips barely curved, like a challenge, but I didn’t know what he was daring me to do.

His father, Rogers, had offered me a job then—an opportunity I couldn’t refuse, he said. They were impressed by my work on Colonvi and wanted me to join their ranks. The Bratva was into something big, something world-changing, and they needed my expertise. The money, the prestige—it was everything I’d ever dreamed of. But there was a catch. I knew what they really wanted. The whispers around town, the rumors of their Mafia ties, how they silenced anyone who got in their way—it was enough to make my skin crawl. I walked away from that offer without a second thought, despite what it could have meant for my career. I wasn’t going to be a part of that world.

I shake my head now, remembering how lucky I was to be naive back then. What if they weren’t just interested in my skills? What if they needed me to create something much bigger—something like an undetectable toxin meant to kill people and confuse the police in New York City, something to help them get away with whatever they were doing in the shadows? It makes my stomach churn.

I can’t stop thinking about how Victor still looks the same. In the club last night, he was just as stunning as he was five years ago—sharp and powerful, his scent rich with something expensive, like leather and an undertone of deep, dark spices. It clung to him, wrapping around me like it was meant to. I could still feel it, even now, thick in my memory. His presence is magnetic. It pulls at me, against my will, making it hard to think straight.

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