Page 125 of Veil of Secrets

I press deeper, faster, determined to give her everything she craves. Her back arches beautifully off the bed, muscles tightening, the breath catching sharply in her throat. The wave breaks inside her suddenly, powerfully, her body pulsing around me. Her pleasure drags me over the edge, too, hot and intense, drowning me in sensation.

We ride the climax together, bodies tangled and shaking, hearts pounding in unison. Gradually, we slow, movements becoming softer, languid. I press gentle kisses to her throat, her cheek, her lips, tasting the salty sheen of her skin. She whispers my name softly, eyes still half-closed, body trembling lightly in aftershocks beneath mine.

I roll us slightly, pulling her close to my chest, holding her tightly as we both slowly come back down to earth. The city lights shimmer through the windows, blurred by our mingled breathing.

Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest, heartbeat slowing against her palm. "Won," she murmurs softly, barely audible.

I nod, gently brushing her chain with my fingertips. "Yeah," I reply quietly. "Not just tonight."

She nestles closer, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. "We're not done," she says softly, eyes heavy but peaceful. "But we're not lost anymore."

"No," I confirm gently, kissing her forehead. "We found it. Whatever the hell 'it' is."

She smiles faintly against my skin. "This is real."

I hold her tighter, feeling her body soften into mine, warm and safe. "Yeah. Real."

We drift, quiet and still, no words needed. I let my eyes close, knowing she's safe beside me, knowing we've finally found peace—even if only tonight.

This isn't a crown that makes you royal. It's the struggle, the fight, the willingness to fall and rise again together. The crown was never real. But what we built beneath it—that’s our legacy, our victory.

And tonight, we wear it together.

Chapter 29 – Elara

Calvetti’s safehouse fell three nights ago, his men scattered or dead, Luca’s reports now tracking smaller threats—pockets of resistance too weak to stand long. The Drago name’s ours, rebuilt clean, and last night felt like proof, not of love, but of us, unbreaking. Now, dawn’s breaking, and I’m up here, feeling the city shift beneath me.

I stand at the rooftop’s edge, boots planted on cracked concrete, chain brushing my thigh, cool against my jeans. Nico’s beside me, shoulder close, hands loose by his sides, eyes on the water where the first gold streaks hit the waves. The boardwalk’s quiet below, neon dark, shutters down, but the ocean hums steady, like it’s carrying what we’ve built. My scars don’t itch today, not the ones on my knuckles or the ones deeper. They’re just there, part of me, same as him.

I glance at him, his face sharp in the low light, jaw relaxed, no tension in the lines I’ve memorized. “You see it too, right?” I say, voice steady, looking back at the city, lights flickering on in the distance. “It doesn’t feel like a war anymore.”

He shifts, boots scuffing the rooftop, meeting my eyes. “No. It feels like a home.”

I nod, feeling the truth settle, heavy but not crushing. “We built this.”

His gaze doesn’t waver, solid as steel. “And we’ll protect it. Whatever comes next.”

The cage never needed to be broken. It just needed a door. And I walked through it—with him.

I turn to the skyline, gold and rose spreading, the boardwalk stretching out like a spine we’ve straightened. My chain shifts, glinting faint, and I feel it—us, not just surviving but standing, choosing this.

It’s not loud, not grand, just us, saying what’s real. The club below, the bar, the garage, the name—they’re not shadows of his father or Tommy’s greed. They’re what we carved, fight by fight, choice by choice, until survival turned to something stronger, something we fuel together.

I lean against the rail, metal cool under my palms, watching a gull arc over the water. “Never thought I’d call any place home,” I say, voice quieter now, not soft, just honest. “Not after Tommy. Not after running.”

Nico steps beside me, elbow brushing mine, looking out too. “Took me a while too. Thought Drago was just blood and mistakes.”

“What changed?” I ask, glancing at him, curious.

He rubs his knuckles, grease still faint from yesterday’s work. “You. This. Knowing it’s not just mine to carry.”

I feel that in my chest, not heavy, just real. “You’re not carrying it alone anymore.”

His lips curve, faint but warm. “Good. Don’t plan to.”

I laugh, soft, nudging his shoulder. “You better not. I’m not hauling all this by myself.”

He grins, quick, turning to face me fully. “Wouldn’t dare. You’re too good at keeping me in line.”

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