Page 110 of Veil of Secrets

“Yeah,” I say, grinning quick. “But they’ll find out the hard way.”

Her eyes flick to the map, tracing the red lines I’ve drawn. “What’s the plan? Wait for them to come?”

I shake my head, setting the blueprint down. “We don’t wait. We hit first—quiet, clean. Take their supply lines, cut their deals before they know we’re there.”

She nods, chain glinting as she shifts. “I like it. Where do I fit?”

“Where you always do,” I say, meeting her gaze. “With me. Planning, moving, finishing it.”

Her lips curve again, sharper now. “You’re getting used to this.”

“To you?” I step closer, voice low. “Yeah, I am.”

She laughs, soft, pushing off the table. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” I say, catching her hand, holding it firm. “You’re stuck with me now.”

Her fingers lace with mine, grip strong. “Guess I’ll survive.”

We stand like that, hands locked, maps and blueprints spread out like a battlefield. The warehouse hums around us, waves crashing outside, wind rattling the siding. I feel the weight of what’s coming—Calvetti’s crew, Rossi’s men, whoever else wants a piece of what we’ve claimed. But with Elara here, it’s not heavy. It’s ours.

“What will this look like?” she asks, voice quieter now, eyes on the map. “When it’s done, I mean. When it’s ours.”

I lean back, thinking hard. “A name people respect, not fear. A crew that’s loyal, not bought. A city we don’t have to fight every day.”

She nods, slow, like she’s seeing it too. “Sounds worth it.”

“It is,” I say, squeezing her hand. “But it’s not just the name. It’s us.”

Her eyes meet mine, steady, unflinching. “You’re saying I’m part of this now? Not just along for the ride?”

“You were never just along,” I say, voice firm. “This doesn’t work without you.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then steps closer, her shoulder brushing mine. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

I feel that in my chest, not soft, just real. “You better not. I need someone to keep me sharp.”

She laughs, rough, nudging me with her elbow. “You’re sharp enough.”

“Not like you,” I say, grinning. “Nobody reads a room like you do.”

Her hand slips from mine, but she stays close, leaning over the table again. “So, when do we move? Calvetti’s not gonna wait forever.”

“Soon,” I say, marking a spot on the map—a dockside stash Calvetti’s been using. “We scout for now, and then hit them once we get enough intel. Luca’s got eyes on their runners already.”

She nods, chain shifting as she studies the map. “I’m in. But we do it clean, like you said.”

“Clean as we can,” I agree, setting the pen down. “No loose ends.”

Her eyes flick to me, sharp but warm. “No loose ends.”

The warehouse feels alive, crates looming like soldiers waiting for orders. The bulb swings, light dancing across her face, and I see it—her resolve, her strength, the reason this feels possible. Marco’s gone, Vince too, but the fight’s never over. Not yet. But with Elara beside me, I’m not looking back.

A crash splinters the moment, metal screeching as the side door flies open, banging against the wall. A thug stumbles in, gun raised, face twisted with sweat and desperation. His jacket’s torn, blood staining the sleeve—Marco’s colors, faded but clear. He locks eyes with me, barrel shaking but aimed.

“Marco’s men are still out there!” he shouts, voice cracking, finger twitching on the trigger.

I don’t blink. “Then they can die out there,” I say, voice flat, grabbing my knife and closing the gap in one step. The blade slices across his chest, clean and deep, blood spraying hot across the nearest crate.

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