Page 43 of Veil of Secrets

He looks at me like he’s trying to figure out if I actually believe that. And that’s the problem for him. I do.

I’m not here because I want his approval.

I’m not here to settle old scores.

I’m here because I’m done being a warning story.

Marco steps back. Smooths his lapel. Smiles.

“Well,” he says. “If you ever remember where you came from, you know where to find me.”

I stand now.

Look him dead in the eyes.

“I didn’t come from you,” I say. “I escaped you.”

He says nothing.

I take one step closer.

“You want to throw shade? Do it louder. You want to make a move? Make it cleaner.”

He blinks once.

I walk past him.

Nico follows.

At the door, I turn once more.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I say. “Not even him.”

Marco raises his glass in a mock toast.

“But you’re still dancing on a leash, sweetheart. Just changed handlers.”

I stare for one more beat.

Then leave.

I don’t get six steps from Marco before a hand grabs my ass.

Hard. Open palm. No shame.

The kind of touch that assumes ownership.

I spin around before I can think.

The guy’s drunk. Balding, red-faced, breathing booze and cheap power. His friends laugh behind him—two of them, also drunk, but not dumb enough to reach.

He leans in. Grinning.

“Dance for us, sweetheart.”

My body’s already moving.

I grab his wrist and twist it back, hard enough to make him grunt. Then I drive my knee up into his ribs.

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