Page 131 of Veil of Obsession
A beat. The air shifts. Eli’s gaze stays locked on mine for a long, unbearable second.
Then he lowers his gun. Just a fraction. A small, almost imperceptible movement.
But I see it.
Romiro, though? He’s confused as hell.
“Eli?” His voice is sharp, uncertain.
Eli doesn’t take his eyes off me. Doesn’t even flinch.
“Lower your fucking gun, Romiro.”
Eli doesn’t say another word. He just turns, walks back to his car, and yanks the door open. I keep my eyes on him, my pulse drumming like war drums in my ears, waiting for the next move.
Princess is still frozen beside me, her breath shaky, her fingers digging into her thighs like she’s trying to keep herself grounded. Romiro hasn’t moved either, his jaw tight, his gun still half-raised, unsure, confused.
But Eli? He’s already done with this conversation.
He reaches into the backseat of his car, pulls out two black briefcases, and throws them at my feet. They hit the pavement with a solid thud.
I don’t flinch.
“There’s money in there.” His voice is sharp, final, absolute.
Princess stiffens beside me, her eyes flicking between me and the cases, as if she can’t believe what’s happening.
Eli levels me with a stare that feels like a death sentence. “I don’t want to ever see you in or near Camorra territory again.”
His words cut—precise, merciless.
Princess’s breath catches, her fingers curling around my wrist like she’s afraid I’m going to fall apart right here. Like she already knows what’s coming next.
Eli takes a step closer, his expression colder than I’ve ever seen it. “From now on, you’re nothing. You’re fucking dead to us.”
The words hit harder than a bullet.
“Any Camorrista who sees you has orders to shoot on sight.”
My fingers twitch at my sides.
This is it. This is the moment I’ve been bracing for.
Eli isn’t my brother anymore. Romiro isn’t my brother-in-arms. The Camorra isn’t my family. Not anymore.
They’ve cut me loose. Made me an enemy. A traitor.
I hold his gaze for a long second. Then I smirk.
“Go fuck yourself, Eli.”
His eyes flicker with something unreadable. Then, without another word, he turns, gets back into the car, and pulls away. Romiro follows suit, engines roaring, tires screeching against the pavement as they disappear into the night, leaving me standing in the middle of the road with two briefcases full of blood money and the only woman I’ve ever given a damn about.
Princess is staring at me, lips parted, expression wrecked. She knows what this means.
I’m not Camorra anymore. I’m a dead man walking.
I let out a slow, measured breath, roll my shoulders, and look down at the briefcases like they don’t mean shit. Then I turn to her, tilting my head.
