Page 66 of Veil of Secrets

Wrap my fingers around hers.

She lets me.

No twitch. No pull away.

“Elara,” I say.

She turns.

Face open. Clear.

No shield.

No mask.

“Yeah?” she replies.

“Nico,” I say.

Her mouth curls, barely. A smirk. A real one.

Her thumb brushes mine once.

That’s it.

But it says everything.

We don’t speak for a while.

The truck hums beneath us, tires eating up the road. Her hand stays in mine, warm, steady. I feel the calluses on her fingers, the strength in her grip. It’s not soft, but it’s real. Like her.

“You ever think about getting out?” she asks, voice quiet.

“Out of what?”

“This.” She gestures at the city blurring past. “The blood. The names. All of it.”

I keep my eyes on the road. “Tried once. Didn’t stick.”

“Why not?”

“People like me don’t get clean slates.”

She’s quiet, but her thumb moves again, brushing my knuckles. Slow. Deliberate.

“Maybe you don’t need a clean slate,” she says. “Maybe you just need someone who doesn’t care about the stains.”

I glance at her.

Her eyes meet mine, unflinching.

“That you?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer. Just squeezes my hand once, then lets go. Her fingers linger on the console, close but not touching.

The city keeps moving past us.

I feel her next to me, solid, present.

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