Page 99 of Veil of Secrets

“I know,” I whisper softly, accepting it. “But I had to remind myself.”

He nods slowly, understanding without needing explanation. “Then don’t forget it.”

“I won’t,” I promise quietly. “You don’t either.”

“We’ll remind each other.”

“Good,” I say softly, voice thick with emotion despite myself. I lean gently against him, just for a moment. Nico’s warmth anchors me, steadying my still-racing heart.

The sky deepens from bruised purple to full darkness. Something shifted tonight—inside me, between us. Marco made a mistake sending these men. He showed his hand too early.

“Let’s go,” Nico says finally, gently nudging me forward. “We’ve got work to do.”

We move quietly toward the boardwalk, steps perfectly matched, purpose clear and united. Marco’s days are numbered, the clock ticking down toward a reckoning we both know is inevitable. And for once, I don’t dread it. I welcome it. Because I’m not alone.

Not anymore.

Chapter 18 – Nico

Marco didn’t show.

But blood’s still fresh in my mind—Marco’s thug, gutted in the alley an hour ago. Elara’s knife was faster than mine, her eyes burning when she wiped the blade. Now we’re here, underground, away from the city’s claws. I close the basement door, the lock clicking heavy and final. It’s just us now, the world shut out.

“Lock the world out,” I say, voice low. “Just for tonight.”

Elara stands in the middle of the room, breathing uneven, her chest rising sharp. Her eyes are wired, still carrying the kill’s edge. “We never get a full night.”

“Then we take pieces.” I grab a black velvet cape from a crate, tossing it to her.

She catches it, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

I kneel, slow, eyes on hers. “You’re the fugitive. I’m the one sent to catch you.”

Her lips twitch, not quite a smile. “You planning to bring me in?”

I lean closer, voice dropping, teasing. “Eventually.”

She isn’t running from me. She’s letting me chase her. That’s trust. That’s all I need.

She slips the cape around her shoulders, the velvet brushing her skin, chain glinting at her hip. “Come find me,” she says, stepping back into the shadows.

I stand, moving deliberate, eyes locked on her. The lantern’s flicker catches her outline—boots, jeans, the curve of her waist under the cape. I cross the room, slow, letting the tension build. She doesn’t move, but her breathing shifts, faster, expectant. When I reach her, my hands find her hips, fingers digging into denim, pulling her close. Her body’s warm, solid against mine.

“Caught,” I say, lips grazing her jaw, feeling her pulse jump.

Her hands grip my shirt, tight. “Maybe.”

I kiss her neck, slow, teeth scraping lightly. She tilts her head, giving me more, a low sound catching in her throat. My hands slide up, under the cape, finding the hem of her tank top. I tug it up, exposing her stomach, and my fingers trace her skin, rough from scars, warm from her heat. She pulls at my jacket, yanking it off, her nails scraping my arms as it hits the floor.

I press closer, mouth moving to her collarbone, tasting sweat and steel. Her hands are in my hair, tugging, urging me on. I lift her tank top higher, over her head, tossing it aside. Her bra’s black, simple, and I unhook it with one hand, letting it fall. She’s bare now, cape draped loose, and I take her in—her chest rising fast, skin flushed, eyes locked on mine.

My lips find her shoulder, then lower, kissing the curve of her breast. She gasps, fingers tightening in my hair. I take my time, mouth exploring, tongue tracing her skin, feeling her shiver. Her hands move to my shirt, pulling it up, and I help, tossing it to the cot. Her fingers roam my chest, nails dragging over scars, making me hiss.

I back her toward the cot, hands on her hips, guiding her. She sits, cape pooling around her, and pulls me down, lips crashing into mine. The kiss is hard, hungry, her tongue pushing against mine, teeth grazing my lip. I groan, low, and slide my hand to her jeans, unbuttoning them slow, giving her time to stop me. She doesn’t. She lifts her hips, helping me tug them off, boots hitting the floor with them.

I kneel between her legs, hands gripping her knees, spreading them gently. My lips start at her ankle, kissing up her calf, slow, deliberate. She leans back, propped on her elbows, watching me. I reach her thigh, teeth grazing the inside, and she moans, loud, the sound hitting me hard. My hands slide higher, fingers brushing her underwear, feeling her heat through the fabric.

“You want this?” I ask, voice rough, pausing to look at her.

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