Page 77 of Veil of Secrets

Everyone’s using it tonight like they know what loyalty means.

He doesn’t get the rest out.

I’m already moving.

The blade is in my hand before his foot finishes landing.

The gun’s rising—he’s aiming wrong, too wide, thinking I’ll flinch.

I don’t.

I close the space in two steps, turn with my shoulder, and drive the blade under his ribs.

It hits solid. I twist upward.

The crunch is thick—bone separating, cartilage snapping open. He makes a noise like someone gut-punched a bag of gravel.

He stumbles. My hand jerks back with the knife.

Blood pours out of him in a wave—black-red under the hallway lights.

He hits the floor, arms twitching once, then goes limp.

The gun clatters across the tiles.

I stay standing over him.

Elara hasn’t moved.

She watches the entire thing, her stance still tight, legs planted, that chain still swinging slightly from her chest like it’s counting the beats of war.

I glance at her.

She nods once.

Not approval. Not awe.

Expectation.

She knew I’d do it.

She would’ve done the same if I hadn’t moved first.

I wipe the blade across the thug’s shirt. The blood smears, thick and dark. His mouth is half-open, but there’s no breath coming through it.

“Traitor,” I repeat, voice flat. “That word’s getting thrown around too much tonight.”

I flick my eyes toward Elara.

She tilts her head, stepping over the man’s foot without a blink.

“You good?” she asks, dry.

“Better now.”

Her eyes meet mine again.

They don’t move away.

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