Page 44 of Veil of Secrets

Crack.

It’s not subtle. It’s not clean. But it lands.

He folds forward with a loud bark of pain, one hand flying to his side as he staggers back.

“You crazy bitch—!”

I’m ready for the follow-up. I brace, fist clenched.

But I don’t get to swing.

Nico steps in from the right, like smoke turning solid.

His blade flashes in the low light—no flourish, no warning.

Just motion.

One second the guy’s growling, the next he’s gurgling.

The knife slices across his throat fast. Precise.

Blood hits the floor in a sudden arc.

The body collapses in a heap. Arms twitch once. Then go still.

The whole bar freezes.

Not panics.

Not screams.

Just holds.

Like they’re waiting to see if it’s over.

Nico wipes the blade on the dead man’s shirt and tucks it back into his jacket like it’s just another tool.

He doesn’t look at Marco. He looks at me.

“You okay?” he asks.

I breathe. Steady. Then nod.

“I will be,” I say. “As long as no one tries to own me again.”

Behind us, Marco sips from his glass.

Then he sets it down—slow, theatrical.

“Well,” he says, deadpan. “That escalated.”

No move to help the body. No order barked to clean it. Just a dry quip like he’s watching a movie.

I take a step toward him.

“You brought this energy in here,” I say. “Next time, you clean it up.”

Marco doesn’t blink.

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