The Veil shifted—just a fraction. Not tearing. Not screaming.Listening.
I froze in the middle of the street, breath caught halfway in my chest.
The night pressed in around me, heavier than it should've been, shadows stretching where there was no light to justify them.
My pulse thundered.
"Santiago?" I whispered, hating the hope in my voice.
Nothing answered.
I told myself it was just the Veil playing tricks again. It had learned my weak points. Learned him.
I turned the corner—
—and nearly collided with a figure standing in the alley.
I staggered back, heart slamming so hard it hurt.
He was leaning against the brick wall like he'd been there all along, head bowed, hands braced on either side of him.
His jacket was torn. Blood—dark, not all of it his—streaked his knuckles.
"Santiago."
He looked up.
For half a second, relief flooded me so fast my knees almost gave out.
Then I saw his eyes.
Still gold. Still him.But something else lived behind them now—something watchful, restrained, like a blade held too tightly.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
His voice was rough. Thinner. Like it had been dragged through something sharp.
I crossed the distance without thinking and grabbed his arm.
He flinched.
Not away from pain.
From me.
The reaction sliced deeper than any wound.
"You're back," I breathed. "You're actually— I thought—"
"I didn't leave," he interrupted quietly. "Not really."
My hands trembled where they held him. He felt solid. Warm. Real.
"You were gone," I said. "The Veil took you."
"Yes," he replied. "And it gave me back."
That should've comforted me.
It didn't.
I searched his face, cataloging the differences I hadn't wanted to notice—the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders stayed coiled, like he was bracing for impact that never came.
"What did they do to you?" I asked.
His gaze flicked past me, scanning the street, the rooftops, the spaces between shadows.
"They reminded me of the rules," he said. "And what happens when we forget who they're really for."
A chill crept up my spine.
"Santiago…"
He finally met my eyes fully then, and whatever he saw there made something soften—and break—at the same time.
"You reached for me," he said softly.
I swallowed. "I tried not to."
"I know." A pause. "That's why they didn't keep me."
My chest tightened. "They used me."
"They tried," he corrected. "They marked us."
I stepped closer. This time, he didn't pull away.
But he didn't touch me either.
"The Veil changed while I was inside," he continued. "Rules bent. Boundaries rewrote themselves. Pedro is only one symptom."
My blood ran cold. "Then what's coming?"
His mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Correction," he said. "Balance. And it won't care who gets crushed in the process."
I reached for his hand.
He let me take it—but his grip was careful. Measured. Like he was afraid of how tightly he might hold on if he didn't think.
"You're different," I whispered.
"Yes," he said honestly. "So are you."
The Veil pulsed once, low and deep, like a heartbeat syncing to ours.
Santiago leaned in, forehead resting against mine—but still, he didn't kiss me.
"I came back because I chose you," he said. "But if this keeps going the way it is…"
He trailed off.
"…you won't be able to protect me," I finished.
His fingers tightened—just a little.
"No," he said. "I won't be able to survive you."
Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unsaid.
Somewhere in the city, something shifted—responding.
The Veil wasn't watching anymore.
It was waiting.
And this time, it knew exactly what it wanted from both of us.