Page 64 of Veil of Secrets

“Drago!”

Wrong name. Wrong night.

I move before he can aim.

My blade’s in hand. I cover the distance in three steps.

He starts to swing the gun toward me.

Doesn’t finish.

I slam into him shoulder first. His shot goes wide—metal ping ricochets off a crate behind me.

I twist.

Slash.

The knife slices through his neck like rope.

Blood bursts forward.

He makes a sound—gurgled, pitiful—and collapses backward against a crate. The wood splinters, then groans as his body slides down to the floor.

Red spreads quick. Thicker than oil. Warmer.

The smell hits just as his fingers twitch.

I step back. Wipe the blade on his shirt.

Elara’s still behind me. Close.

I glance over.

She’s watching.

Jaw tight. Hands loose. Body still.

Her voice is steady. “That didn’t even shake you.”

I don’t look at the body again.

“I’ve had worse interruptions.”

I catch her eyes again.

“You sure about this?” she asks. “About me?”

It’s not soft. Not vulnerable. Just direct.

I nod once. “If I wasn’t, he’d still be breathing.”

That hangs between us.

She doesn’t nod.

She doesn’t smile.

She just exhales—like that was the answer she expected. The one she needed.

---