Page 63 of Veil of the Past
32
ROMIRO
Helen’s smile is a razor, cutting through the air between us, sharp and cold. My pulse quickens, my grip tightening on the gun as I step into the room. Every muscle in my body is taut, coiled, and ready to spring. I have to stay calm. I glance around quickly, assessing. It's a small space that’s cluttered with boxes and old shipping crates. There's nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
"Drop your guns," she orders, her voice a venomous whisper. She steps to the side, revealing Alessia, Val, and Mara. They all have their wrists bound,a strip of duct tape across their mouth—their eyes wide and terrified. Helen’s arm is wrapped around Alessia’s throat, the barrel of her gun pressing into her temple.
"Drop them," she repeats, her eyes flicking between me, Emiliano, and Nicolo, a sly smile spreading across her lips. "And kick them over here."
I meet Alessia’s gaze. Her eyes are pleading, filled with a fear that makes my chest tighten painfully. I can feel the sweat on my palms, the tremor in my hand. I know Helen is watching me closely, looking for any sign of resistance. But there’s no way I’m giving her that satisfaction.
Nicolo gives me a small nod from the corner of my eye, a silent signal. We have backup weapons hidden in our jackets, but she doesn’t know that. This could be our chance if we play it right.
“Alright,” I say slowly, lowering my gun to the ground. “We’re putting them down. Just… don’t hurt her.”
Helen’s smile widens, her eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. “No promises.”
I grit my teeth, carefully placing my gun on the floor and nudging it toward her with my foot. Emiliano follows suit, his face hard and unreadable, his movements slow and deliberate. Nicolo hesitates a beat longer, just enough to draw Helen’s attention. Her eyes dart to him, suspicious, and I see her hand twitch.
“Now,” she snaps. “Kick them all the way over. And don’t try anything stupid, or I’ll blow their brains out.”
I nudge the gun harder, sliding it across the cold concrete floor. It scrapes loudly, echoing in the small space. Emiliano does the same, and our weapons come to a stop near Helen’s feet. Her smile broadens, triumphant.
“Good boys,” she purrs. “Now, step back. All of you. Hands where I can see them.”
We obey, moving back slowly, our hands raised. My mind is racing, calculating, searching for any opening, any chance to turn the tables. Nicolo shifts slightly, his hand brushing against his jacket. I see the glint in his eye, the barely perceptible nod.
I know the plan. I know what he’s thinking. The backup weapons, hidden at our backs, ready to be drawn in an instant. But we have to be careful. One wrong move, and Helen could pull the trigger.
Helen’s grip on Alessia tightens, and I see Alessia wince. My heart lurches in my chest, a mix of fear and fury boiling up inside me. I have to do something. I have to act, but I can’t risk Alessia’s life. Not anymore than I already have.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “What do you want, Helen?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, steady. “Why are you doing this?”
She laughs—a high, cold sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “What do Iwant?” she repeats, mockingly. “Oh, Romiro… I want so many things. But mostly, I want to watch you suffer.”
Her words hit me like a blow to the gut, but I don’t flinch. I can’t. I keep my eyes on her, watching her every move, every twitch. She’s playing with us, enjoying the power she holds, the fear she’s instilling. But she’s distracted. I can see it in her eyes, in the way she keeps glancing between us, uncertain, nervous. She knows we’re up to something. She just doesn’t know what.
Nicolo moves slightly to the side, drawing her attention again. I take the opportunity, sliding my hand slowly toward my back, feeling the cool metal of the hidden gun beneath my jacket. I keep my movements slow, controlled, careful not to draw her eye.
Emiliano speaks up, his voice calm, steady. “Helen, this doesn’t have to end like this,” he says. “You’ve got what you wanted. You’ve made your point. Just let them go.”
Helen’s eyes narrow, suspicion flickering across her face. “Oh, no,” she says, her voice low and dangerous. “I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot. You see, I suffered for far too long because of their father.” She tilts her head in Nicolo’s and my direction. “And now, in my old age, they’re making me suffer again. Well, it’s time for some payback.” This bitch loves herI’m the victimspeeches.
My fingers close around the grip of the gun, and I feel a surge of adrenaline, my heart racing in my chest. I know the moment is coming, the split second where we have to act. Nicolo is ready, his hand hovering just above his waistband, his eyes fixed on Helen. Emiliano shifts his weight, preparing for whatever comes next.
And then, it happens.
Helen’s attention wavers for just a second, her gaze flicking to the side. It’s all the opening we need. In one fluid motion, I draw the gun from my waistband and fire, aiming just over her shoulder, a warning shot that ricochets off the metal wall behind her. She jumps, startled, her grip loosening on Alessia.
Emiliano lunges forward, grabbing Alessia’s arm and pulling her to the side, out of Helen’s grasp. And then he moves to the other girls, untying them. Helen snarls, turning the gun toward him, but Nicolo is already moving, his backup gun drawn, aimed straight at Helen’s chest.
“Drop it!” Nicolo shouts, his voice a thunderous command.
Helen hesitates, her eyes wide, darting between us, calculating. Panic flares in her eyes, the realization that she’s outnumbered, outgunned. Her hand wavers, her finger on the trigger, but she doesn’t pull it. She knows she won’t make it out if she tries.
“Drop it, Helen,” I repeat, my voice low, deadly. “Or I swear to God, I will put you down myself.”
She sneers, her eyes flashing with rage, but slowly, reluctantly, she lowers the gun, letting it fall to the floor with a dull clatter. Nicolo moves quickly, kicking it away from her reach.
