Page 5 of Veil of Ashes

I don’t tell her the rest. That Rizzi’s actions got my brother killed. That this isn’t a mission—it’s a fucking vendetta.

She wouldn’t take the job out of sympathy. But she might take it for blood.

“Get out,” she says.

Her voice is steady, but her knee bounces once beneath the desk.

I rise from the chair and nod. Not angry. Not smug. Just patient.

“Use the drive,” I say. “See what he did.”

“And if I do?”

“Then we talk again tomorrow.”

I walk to the trapdoor and pause with my hand on the latch.

“You’re good, Sylvara. But you’re not done. Not by a long shot.”

I know she won’t sleep tonight.

And I know damn well she’ll open that drive.

She turns her back to me.

Not a flinch. Not a dismissal in passing. A declaration. Like she’s drawing a line in her bunker and daring me to cross it.

Her shoulders stay still, but the hand holding her cigarette trembles once before going rigid again. She flicks ash into that bullet casing and stares down at her desk like it’s a goddamn altar.

“You Veyra bastards never come empty-handed,” she says. “Just empty-hearted.”

It lands harder than it should.

I shift my stance, but don’t leave. I watch the shape of her spine under the thin fabric, the mess of dark hair tied up with a pencil, the slight arch of her foot where she balances too long on one heel. She doesn’t look tired. She looks ready to bite.

“I didn’t come to ask,” I say. “This isn’t a favor. It’s a reckoning.”

She turns, finally.

Eyes dark and wild like they haven’t been quiet in years. Her lips pull tight around the cigarette filter, then she takes it out and grinds it against the steel tray without breaking eye contact.

“Of course it is. You bastards always come down here, light a match, then leave me to deal with the fire.”

I take a step closer.

“Not always.”

Her head tilts, just slightly. “No? You staying this time, Santoro? Gonna play bodyguard while the Veyra house eats itself from the inside?”

I don’t answer. I let the silence stretch. Her eyes narrow in return.

She thinks I’m here to manipulate her. She’s right. But that’s not all I’m doing—and we both feel it.

“I don’t need your protection,” she snaps. “Or your money.”

“You need the truth,” I say. “Rizzi made sure of that.”

Her jaw tightens. I almost say something about it—then remember that’s her tell. The thing she doesn’t know she’s doing when the lies scrape too close to her skin.

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