Page 114 of Veil of Obsession
It’s light. Careful. Not the wind. Not the house settling. A step.
I stand quickly, silent on bare feet, and grip the knife tighter. My heart jackhammers against my ribs. I take a breath, another, and move to the far corner of the room where the armoire sits. I slip behind it into the small nook between the furniture and the wall, hidden by its heavy oak bulk.
The footsteps stop. Then another step. Closer.
They’re inside the house.
I crouch low, silent. I’ve done this before. Hidden like this when my mother sent her minions to check on me. When I needed to pretend to be the quiet little daughter, not the girl with blood under her nails and secrets under the floorboards.
I hear them now: two voices. Male. Low. Calm, like they’re not in a hurry because they don’t need to be.
Then I hear a name.
“Lucio’s not here,” one of them says. “You think she’s dumb enough to still be hiding out in his house?”
A familiar voice. Emiliano.
The blood drains from my face.
“Search everywhere,” he adds coldly. “If she’s here, we take her.”
No.
My stomach twists, bile burning the back of my throat. I press myself tighter against the wall, willing my body to become nothing, to dissolve into the shadows. This isn’t a misunderstanding. He’s not here to talk. He’s here to finish what he started back in New York.
Another voice joins his. Calmer. Steel under velvet.
Romiro.
“You sure Lucio didn’t come back for her?”
“No,” Eli says. “He would’ve called. He wouldn’t have risked her like that unless he had a backup plan. She’s here. Iknowshe’s here.”
My hands start to shake. Not from fear. From rage. From knowing that after everything, after the blood I spilled, after the fucking exile, he still thinks I’m expendable.
Lucio’s own brother.
They’re close now. I hear the stairs creak as someone comes up. The slow scuff of shoes on wood. Then they split up. One heads down the left hallway, the other this way.
I hold my breath. My fingers are cramping from how tight I’m gripping the knife. The steel is warm in my palm now. An extension of me. Like if I have to die tonight, I’ll die slicing through one of them.
Emiliano’s voice draws closer, speaking quietly into what I assume is a comm or earpiece. “Bedroom’s clear. Check the guest rooms.”
I shut my eyes.
Please don’t come in here.
Footsteps pause. A click. The door opens.
I can hear his breathing. Can hear the floor creak as he steps in.
I tuck my knees to my chest and hold the blade ready, every cell in my body locked in place, straining for silence. My pulse drums in my ears.
I think of Lucio. Of the moment my eyes found him at that dull gala where everyone pretended. Of the way he looked at me when he told me to trust him.
Another step. He’s in the room now.
I don’t know how much time I have. Maybe a few seconds. Maybe less. But if I’m going down, I’m taking him with me.
