OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN: OF VEIL-CODED GHOSTS AND THE GIRL WHO CLOSED THE CURTAIN

Tri-Havoc was already in position. To any other student, they looked casual. Unbothered.

But I've known them all my life. Xythe's sitting legs crossed, dagger spinning between gloved fingers, watching the west pillar like it owed him blood. Saichel is grinning, but not laughing. Fingers flexed once on his lap. Gloves charged. Ari's sitting close to Khaizer, not touching him—but I could see it in her shoulders. One wrong sound and she'd draw a blade.

I raised my wrist. Veil Overcast Protocol: Activated.

The lights dimmed—softly, gradually. Nothing jarring. Just a shift in tone. A curtain being drawn.

To anyone else? A flicker in the system. A power flux.

To us? Visual distortion. Cloak-layer active. The veil stretched across the Commons ceiling, refracting softly. Invisible. Total. We call it the Curtain of Displacement—because by the time you notice it, you've already been erased from your own surveillance feed.

"Right flank," Tofer murmured beside me. His acoustic sensors blinked green. "Movement along the ventilation axis. Forty seconds."

"Halcyon Pact?" Thres asked, already lifting his wristguard, pulse steady.

"Maybe," Tofer replied. "Or bait."

I opened a projection interface and pulled up the signal. Three blinking points. Flickering. Inconsistent. Too fractured to be faculty. Too skilled to be casual intruders.

"Definitely bait," I muttered. "But built by someone expensive."

Tofer didn't need more confirmation. He stepped into position beside the western beam, fingers twitching. His razors lit faint green.

Thres braced behind the central column—body half-shadowed by the distortion field. His hammer didn't glow, but I knew. He could swing it in a heartbeat.

We were in place. They weren't here for the school. They were here for him.

We're either being watched," I said, "or they want us to think we're being watched."

"Either way," he replied, "we hold."

I stepped into the Commons. Crossed the room like I belonged there. Like I wasn't weaving a cloakwave into the ducts and beams with every step I took.

Tri-Havoc barely glanced up—but I saw the shift. Saichel's finger curled. Xythe's eyes narrowed. Ari shifted her weight—subtle, silent. She didn't have to speak. None of us did. We've been trained for this. Born into it.

I extended the veil radius one more time—let it bleed outward like smoke into the structure's lungs. Let it crawl behind the eyes watching from the rafters. The Commons dimmed further. Not enough to startle. Just enough to make students forget what they saw.

Khaizer didn't move.

Still sipping his drink. Still unaware that the Academy was bending itself around him. That the Ardent Court had already claimed him as something to protect. Or maybe something to reclaim.

And me? I exhaled. Not relief. Not fear. Readiness.

They were watching. Or trying to. But they wouldn't see what we were about to become. Because in this game, you win before they even know you've played.

Let them breach. Let them enter. Let the ghosts try.

Whatever they want from Khaizer Dylan Dela Vega— they will never get. Not here. Not while I'm the one pulling the curtains shut.

TOFER'S POV

We never say it out loud, but sometimes? I think we like the silence before it shatters. It's not comfort. It's not peace. It's the moment before the music starts in your bones—the second when instinct rises, and protocol fades.