Page 137 of Veil of Obsession

“You think that’s something I haven’t already accepted? You think I haven’t already decided you’re worth that risk?”

He stops pacing. “You never said that.”

I cross my arms, heart thudding against my ribs like it’s trying to break out. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think I had to.”

Lucio’s silent for a beat, then crosses the space between us in three steps and pulls me to him. Fast. Rough. Like if he hesitates, I’ll slip through his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes into my hair. “For being a dick. For disappearing. For all of it.”

I bury my face in his chest, pressing a fist against his ribs. “You keep saying that.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

We stand there, locked in the kind of embrace that feels like it could either anchor you or drown you. Outside, the wind rattles against the thin windowpane. He pulls back slightly, eyes searching mine.

“I didn’t just meet with some informant tonight,” he admits. “I went to check the new safehouse. South end of the city. We might need it if things keep going sideways.”

I blink. “You’re planning an exit strategy.”

“I’m planning for survival.”

“And you didn’t think I should know?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

I pull back completely, arms falling to my sides. “Lucio, I don’t need protection. I need partnership.”

He looks at me like I just slapped him. And maybe I did, but with the truth.

“You’re right,” he says after a long pause. “You’re absolutely right.”

For a second, I don’t believe he said it. Then he steps back, grabs his jacket, and tosses a burner phone onto the bed.

“That’s for the safehouse,” he says. “Only use it if I tell you to.”

I stare at the phone, then at him. “You’re not going to tell me where it is?”

“I will. Just not yet. If someone turns you—tortures you—I don’t want you giving it up without meaning to.”

“You really think I’d break?”

“No,” he says. “But I can’t take that chance.”

I hate that he’s right. I hate even more that he’s calm about it.

“Lucio…” I start.

He turns to me again, stepping close. “This life…it’s going to ask everything from us. It already has. But if we’re going to make it, really make it, we can’t do this halfway. I need you with me, Princess. Not just angry and brave and brilliant. I need you in it. All the way.”

My chest tightens.

“I am,” I whisper.

He kisses me then—not soft, not desperate. Solid. Anchored. Like we’re agreeing on something bigger than either of us. When he pulls away, we don’t say anything. Just let the silence settle like dust.

Then he walks over to the bed and drops onto it like a man who’s carried a world on his back all night, and pats the space beside him. “You coming?”