Page 96 of Veil of Secrets

We stand quietly for another moment, watching the waves churn restlessly beneath us. The railing is slick with salt under my hands. I loosen my grip, flexing my fingers. My scar tightens—a quiet warning, a phantom echo of Tommy’s touch.

“You feel it?” Nico asks quietly, eyes finally flicking toward me, reading me easily.

“Yeah,” I admit softly. “Always do.”

Nico nods slowly, eyes narrowing at the sea. “It won’t last forever.”

I don’t respond, not needing to. I trust his certainty more than I trust my own doubts. A gust of wind cuts through the pier, cold enough to raise goosebumps on my arms. The air suddenly feels sharper, my nerves tingling.

I sense Nico tense beside me. His posture shifts subtly, readying. I follow his cue, senses snapping fully awake, scanning our surroundings.

A shadow shifts from behind a rusted railing near the pier entrance. The movement is quick, violent. A man steps out, gun raised and pointed directly at my chest. His face is vaguely familiar—another ghost from Tommy’s past.

“This is for Tommy!” he shouts, voice shaking with rage and misguided loyalty.

He expects fear. Instead, anger floods through my veins, molten hot. My body moves before I consciously command it.

“You’re late,” I snarl, stepping directly into his reach. He startles, the gun wavering. It’s all the opening I need.

I slam my fist hard into his jaw, bone cracking loudly beneath my knuckles. Pain reverberates up my arm, but it’s nothing compared to the satisfaction I feel seeing him stumble backward, blood spurting from his mouth. The gun clatters to the boards, forgotten.

Nico doesn’t hesitate either. His blade flashes silver in the fading daylight, a clean, efficient arc cutting through muscle and flesh. The man gasps, eyes wide with shock as Nico’s knife sinks deep into his gut, twisting brutally. His knees hit the wooden boards hard, hands clutching uselessly at his belly as blood gushes through his fingers.

Entrails spill wetly onto the pier, steaming faintly in the cool dusk. He collapses fully, body jerking briefly before going completely still.

My breath comes heavy, heart racing—not from fear, but adrenaline. The release feels good, cleansing.

“Fuck,” I breathe harshly, stepping away from the body, pulse hammering in my ears.

Nico straightens slowly, eyes meeting mine.

“He’s gone,” Nico says, voice calm, reassuring.

I nod slowly, eyes never leaving the corpse sprawled on the pier. “Marco’s trying to stir ghosts again.”

Nico sheathes his blade slowly, carefully. “Then we bury them.”

I inhale deeply, tasting salt and blood on my tongue, feeling Tommy’s lingering presence recede. It won’t fade entirely tonight—but it's a start.

“He thinks I’m still breakable,” I say bitterly, glaring at the dead thug as though Marco himself could hear me.

Nico steps closer, solid and steady, eyes serious as he looks down at me. “Marco’s wrong. He’ll find that out soon enough.”

I meet Nico’s eyes, seeing quiet certainty there—a certainty that matches my own. We stand silent for a moment, surrounded by the growing shadows, the body forgotten beneath us.

“We can’t leave him here,” I say finally, practicality cutting through the brief calm. My gaze shifts back to the corpse, my pulse finally settling.

“I’ll handle it,” Nico answers evenly. “You don’t have to.”

I shake my head slowly, decisively. “We handle it together. That’s how we survive.”

Nico hesitates only briefly, respecting my resolve. “Together, then.”

I exhale again, shoulders easing slightly. “Together.”

We move quickly, efficiently, Nico taking the man’s ankles as I grab beneath his arms. Blood smears my hands, slick and hot, but I ignore it. This isn't new to us—not anymore.

We swing him over the railing with practiced ease, the body splashing heavily into the churning waves below. The sea swallows him instantly, washing away evidence as if he never existed.

---