Page 69 of Veil of Secrets

The cage begins to lower, then stops moving.

My heels touch down on the platform with a soft click, just as the music fades into low ambient bass—enough to keep the drunks swaying, but not enough to cover a shout.

Not enough to cover his voice.

“Whore!”

It cuts through the static like a bullet through glass.

I freeze.

Not out of fear.

Recognition.

That voice doesn’t belong in here.

Not anymore.

I pivot fast, scanning the crowd through the stage’s low light. The cage bars slice through the shadows, but I see the glint before I see the man.

Knife.

Coming at me from the left side of the floor—through the small gap where security never stands long enough to be useful.

The face is familiar.

One of Tommy’s old crew.

He used to camp by the bar and laugh too loud. The kind of guy who never did the heavy lifting but always showed up to watch someone else bleed.

Now he’s in my club, knife in hand, looking like he crawled out of the gutter just to finish the job Tommy never did.

Instinct takes over.

He lunges.

I swing low and hard. My elbow catches his wrist as he clears the platform. It slams his forearm into the steel bar with a wet crack that sends the knife spinning into the lights.

The sound his bone makes is the kind that cuts through music. Through shouting.

The whole club seems to stop breathing for one beat.

Then the blood hits the floor.

Splatters my leg.

The crowd starts screaming.

I don’t.

The man howls, staggers back, clutching his arm like it betrayed him.

Before I can step forward, Nico is already moving.

No hesitation.

His blade flashes once.

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