Page 65 of Veil of Secrets

I sheathe the blade again.

“Let’s move.”

We head for the truck. Elara gets in without waiting for the door to open fully. She climbs into the passenger seat like she’s done it before.

I take the wheel.

We drive.

The warehouse disappears behind us. Crates. Blood. Bodies.

Still warm in the dirt.

We don’t talk right away.

The city flies past—empty blocks, busted neon, late-night fog catching in the alleys like ghosts too tired to haunt.

She finally breaks the silence. Her voice low.

“He yelled your name.”

“Most of them do.”

“You ever think about what it means?”

“What?”

“That they all think you’re the last name they’ll ever say.”

I glance at her.

Her eyes stay on the road ahead.

“No,” I say. “But maybe they’re not wrong.”

She’s quiet a second.

Then says, “It’s a weird kind of loyalty.”

“What is?”

“Mine.”

Her head tilts toward the window, but her hand rests on the middle console. Close to mine.

“I don’t follow people,” she says. “Not really. But I’m in this. With you.”

I don’t answer right away.

Because I feel it.

It’s not just partnership.

It’s pressure.

Because loyalty from someone like her isn’t a gift. It’s a loaded gun she hands over without blinking, trusting you not to point it back.

I reach over.

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