Page 63 of Veil of Secrets

Boots on concrete. Fast.

Luca.

He skids to a stop just outside the makeshift walls of stacked crates. His shirt’s half unbuttoned, one sleeve torn. His chest heaves.

“Boss,” he says. “Just came from the docks. Vince was with Marco.”

I straighten.

Luca steps closer, urgency vibrating off him.

“I saw the money change hands. Thick envelope. Vince handed him something. Marco smiled like he already won.”

“You sure?”

“Sure enough to bury him.”

I don’t breathe for a full second.

Then I reach for the knife on the table.

My hand closes around the handle like it belongs there.

It does.

“Vince always wanted the Brotherhood for himself,” I say.

Elara watches me. Still. Steady.

“He thought rot could be shaped into a throne,” I continue. “He forgot what I am.” I turn to Luca. “Get the car. We need to move.”

He nods, bolts for the door.

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The truck’s parked just beyond the bay door. It’s running—engine humming steady under the night—but the space between us and it feels like a goddamn stretch of open battlefield.

I glance left.

Elara scans the angles as we move. Her chain sways low. Her hands don’t twitch.

She’s not nervous.

She’s ready.

I open my mouth to say something—don’t know what—but then the back gate clatters.

Fast.

Too fast.

I spin.

A man rushes through the open side bay—one of Marco’s.

I recognize the vest before I register the face. Patchwork camo. Mismatched boots. The kind of guy you pay in small bills and promises.

He’s got a pistol up. Already mid-shout.

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