Page 108 of Veil of Secrets

“Not the worst place we’ve ever been,” I reply, settling deeper into his embrace, feeling the comforting solidity of him beneath me.

“No,” he agrees, lips quirking faintly, “definitely not.”

Before I can say more, a soft buzzing interrupts the quiet. The sound vibrates sharply against the small wooden table beside the couch, breaking the delicate spell around us. Nico reaches over slowly, picking up the phone with a sigh of resignation.

“Bad timing,” he mutters, frowning slightly as he reads the message. I watch the calm slowly slip from his expression, replaced by a tightness that makes my own heart clench.

“What is it?” I ask, voice tense, already bracing myself for another storm.

He lets out a sharp breath, turning the phone toward me so I can see the message clearly. It’s short, stark, and unsettling:

Watch your back. Marco’s men aren’t done yet.

I exhale slowly, a spike of irritation cutting sharply through my nerves. “Great,” I mutter bitterly. “Guess we celebrated too early.”

Nico’s grip on me tightens gently, holding me securely against his chest. His breathing stays even, but I feel the simmering tension beneath his calm surface. “Marco always had plenty of loyalists willing to fight for scraps. Taking him down wasn’t ever going to be enough.”

“Figures,” I say, sighing quietly. My muscles tense reflexively, instinct already shifting from warmth back to readiness. “I thought we'd at least get one quiet night.”

He tilts my chin up gently, forcing me to meet his gaze. “We still can. We just have to stay ready.”

“Staying ready feels like the only thing we ever do,” I answer dryly. Despite the bite in my words, my hands don’t loosen their grip on his shoulders. I’m still holding tight to the only real thing I have left.

He searches my face slowly, eyes dark and steady. “You tired of it yet?”

I shake my head, managing a faint smile despite the tension tightening in my chest. “Not tired enough to leave.”

“Good.” His voice softens slightly, carrying the quiet promise we don’t usually speak aloud. “We’ll get through this, just like we’ve gotten through everything else.”

“Together,” I say softly, leaning up to brush my lips gently against his. It’s brief, reassuring, a reminder of what we fight for. “Always together.”

He nods slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smile. “Always.”

We sit silently for a few more moments, neither willing to fully break the fragile calm we've reclaimed. The threat hangs around us, familiar enough not to surprise, but still sharp enough to sting.

“Guess the wedding’s postponed,” I finally say, unable to resist a wry smile. “Sorry, groom.”

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating warmly through his chest. “I can wait. It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

“Good answer,” I whisper, pressing another gentle kiss to his jaw, savoring the warmth of his skin. “But I’m keeping the veil.”

“It suits you,” he murmurs, amusement threading through his voice, his fingers tracing gently down my spine. “Although, I might prefer you without it.”

“Careful,” I warn playfully, my fingers trailing teasingly over his chest. “You might distract me from watching your back.”

His smile fades slightly, seriousness returning. “You sure you want this? The mess, the threats—all of it?”

“It’s already mine,” I answer quietly, the honesty raw but easy to admit now. “Has been since the first time you stepped in front of me.”

His gaze darkens with intensity, thumb brushing tenderly over my lower lip. “You know I never meant to drag you into—”

“I know,” I interrupt softly, cupping his face gently, holding his gaze firmly. “But I chose to stay. I chose this.”

His eyes search mine carefully, finding no hesitation, only quiet certainty. “And you still trust it?”

“I trust you,” I say simply, holding his gaze steadily. “I trust this.”

He pulls me closer then, kissing me slowly, deeply. Not urgent, not desperate, just honest. It’s reassurance and promise and acknowledgment wrapped into a single moment of intimacy.

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