Page 15 of Veil of Secrets

“You worried I’m going to distract him?”

“I’m not worried,” Vince says. “I’m realistic.”

He pushes off the wall and steps in closer, voice soft but tight.

“Guys like him—fixers, soldiers—they fall for damaged girls like you because they think they’re rescuing someone. Makes them feel noble. Makes them feel clean.”

“Is that what this is?” I ask. “You coming in here to warn me I’m the bad decision?”

He grins. “I’m telling you to think before you leap. That’s all.”

“You don’t strike me as the concerned type.”

“I’m a realist,” he says again. “And I’ve seen people get chewed up trying to be more than what they are.”

My chest tightens, and not just from the scar.

I stand up.

“He talk to you?” I ask. “About bringing me in?”

“Not in detail.”

“But enough.”

“Enough to raise an eyebrow.”

I step closer, toe to toe.

“You’re not raising eyebrows. You’re testing the leash. Seeing if you can tug it before he notices.”

He lifts his hands. “I’m just offering perspective.”

“Right,” I say. “Well, here’s mine—if Nico wants something from me, he’ll say it himself. And if you’re scared of that? You should be.”

Vince smiles again, like none of this touches him.

“Careful, Elara. Pride’s a funny thing. It fills your chest right before it gets you buried.”

He leaves before I can come up with a better reply.

Not that I would’ve said it.

The door clicks behind him. The room feels ten degrees hotter.

Giorgia pokes her head back out from the other side.

“What the hell was that?”

“Poison,” I mutter, grabbing my things. “In a suit.”

The door slams open again, this time hard enough to rattle the cracked mirror.

“Move, bitch!”

The voice hits sharp. Slurred. Too loud for the room. One of the security goons from the floor—broad neck, thicker gut, a clipboard in one hand and no concept of personal space in the other. I think his name’s Cal or Carl. Doesn’t matter.

He barrels toward the back lockers like I’m not standing in his path.

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