Page 11 of Veil of Secrets

The kid’s barely twenty, face red, chest heaving like he ran the whole length of the boardwalk. Skinny, damp, patchy facial hair and shaking hands—he’s not built for this life, but he’s in it now.

“Boss,” he pants. “Marco’s people. They’re sniffing around the old pier.”

I stare.

No reaction. Just processing.

“You saw them yourself?”

He nods. “Yeah. Two of ’em. Looked armed. Parked near the broken ferry shack. I didn’t stop to ask names.”

“Good.”

I slide the blade from the table.

It’s a thick combat knife—heavy, reliable. Handle worn down from years of use. My fingers find the groove like they’re returning to a familiar pressure point.

Luca moves toward me. “You want backup?”

“No.”

“Marco’s not subtle lately. He might have more nearby.”

“Then I’ll go say hello.”

The kid steps back. Knows better than to argue.

Vince doesn’t appear. Of course. He never does when it’s messy.

I holster the blade under my jacket, grab the folded collar, and head out the back.

Outside, the boardwalk is half-lit and quiet. The kind of quiet where things wait to go wrong.

The mist hangs in the air like the ocean doesn’t know if it wants to rain again or not. Wood planks beneath my boots groan as I move. Most of the vendors are closed, metal grates down, paper signs sagging in the wet breeze.

Seagulls cry out, distant, bored. Nothing alive here except the sea and whatever trash Marco decided to throw near the pier tonight.

I walk.

No rush.

No fear.

This is what I know. The quiet before a blade slides in. The second after blood hits the ground. That moment between pulse and spill—that’s home.

But her?

Elara Ricci.

She’s something I don’t know yet.

And that’s why I can’t stop thinking about her.

Not the way men usually think about women. Not lust. Not fantasy.

She’s a question mark in a room full of collapsing answers.

The Brotherhood used to run on certainty. We had codes, rules, men who followed because they believed. Now we run on bribes and paranoia. The code’s cracked. The center’s rotting.

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