Page 40 of Veil of Ashes

I don’t blink. Don’t shift. But I flinch—internally. A flicker. Sharp and sudden.

He knows.

About her.

My jaw tightens as I steady my breath. Gia. Of course it was Gia. She’s the only one who’d deliver that truth with a bow—gift-wrapped in venom, just to watch me burn from both ends.

Dante leans forward, gaze like a scalpel.

“Don’t lie to me, Kieran.”

“I didn’t,” I say, voice flat and sure. “That ledger’s cleaner than your vault.” My hand slides into my jacket, pulling out a second envelope.

I push it across the table, paper whispering on felt. “You’ll want this too,” I say. “Secondary account trace. Ties up loose ends.”

Dante’s smile fades, replaced by a hard stare. He takes the envelope, tearing it open with a flick of his thumb. Pages spill out, more numbers, more names—another layer of the web Sylvara spun.

Gia shifts, glass clinking as she sets it down. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, lips curling sharp. “Funny how quick you switch sides when lips get involved.”

Her words stab, aimed to cut. She knows too much. My face stays stone, but fury simmers beneath it.

“Keep your guesses to yourself,” I say, eyes flicking to her. She laughs, soft and biting, leaning back with her champagne again.

Dante ignores her, flipping through the second set of papers. His finger pauses on a line, then moves on. The room stays quiet, just the rustle of pages and the hum of the vents overhead.

I stand there, hands loose at my sides, every muscle coiled tight. One slip in that ledger—one digit off, one name wrong—and Sylvara’s blood stains this deal. I see her in my head, stitched thigh, fierce eyes, alive.

Gia sips her drink, watching me over the rim. Her gaze digs, searching for cracks. She’s enjoying this, the power of knowing more than she lets on.

“You’ve been busy,” Dante says, flipping the final page before closing the envelope. He places it atop the ledger, tapping the stack with two fingers—deliberate.

“This matches the accounts we’ve been watching. For now, Santoro... you’ve bought time.”

“Time’s all I need,” I say evenly. My chest tightens—not for me, but for her. Sylvara’s out there, waiting, trusting me to make this count.

Dante leans in, folding his hands. The cards between us sit untouched now—just props.

“You’ve always been sharp,” he says, voice like gravel. “But sharp men cut both ways. I don’t trust blades that swing on their own.”

“Then trust the numbers,” I reply, nodding at the ledger. “They don’t change their story.”

Gia scoffs softly, swirling her champagne. “Numbers don’t save lives,” she says, eyes gleaming. “And they sure as hell don’t bleed for you.”

I turn, meet her gaze, calm but cold.

“No. But people do. And you’d know all about that.”

Her smirk fades—just a flicker—but she says nothing more.

Dante chuckles, a dry sound that fills the space. “Enough,” he says, waving a hand. “You’ve delivered. For now.”

He pushes the ledger aside, leaning back in his chair. His eyes stay on me, calculating, peeling me apart. I hold his gaze, unflinching, but my mind races—Sylvara’s life hangs on this moment.

“You’re playing a tight game,” he says, voice dropping. “Hope you’ve got more than paper to back it up.”

“I’ve got what you need,” I say, stepping closer to the table. “Always have.”

In my mind, I am thinking fast. If the Veyras turn on us, I’ve got a choice coming—stick to the plan or run with her. Loyalty’s a chain, but escape’s a gamble. My gut says we’re not clear yet.

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