Page 7 of Veil of Secrets

He stumbles back, but not far. Not enough.

“You bitch!” he growls, stepping toward me again, eyes wild now. “You think you can—”

I get ready for another hit. But I don’t get the chance to land it.

Nico moves like a shadow peeling off the wall.

He’s in front of me before I register the blur of black. No words. No pause. Just movement.

His hand flashes, low and fast.

A blade arcs through the space between them. One clean sweep.

The thug jerks like someone cut his strings.

Then he folds.

His knees hit first, then his hands, then his face.

He tries to speak, but all that comes out is wet gurgling.

Blood pours out in a fast, horrifying gush. It soaks into the alley grime, winding past my boot.

The man doesn’t scream again.

He doesn’t have the throat left for it.

I stare at what used to be a threat. Now just a mess on the concrete.

Nico crouches beside the body, wipes the blade on the guy’s ruined shirt, and stands. Calm. Clean. Like it’s nothing.

My lungs finally pull in air, but not deep.

That wasn’t just muscle memory.

That was precision.

That was a message.

He looks at me.

“Safe,” he says.

Like that explains anything.

I take a step back. Not fear. Just… distance. Space to think.

“You don’t get to say that,” I snap. “Not to me.”

He doesn’t argue.

I shove my cigarette back in my mouth and drag in smoke like it’s going to settle the tremor in my gut.

It doesn’t.

“You okay?” Nico asks.

I laugh, sharp and humorless. “You don’t get to ask me that either.”

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