Page 68 of Veil of Ashes

“If this all ends tomorrow,” he murmurs, voice rough against my ear, “I needed you to know that what we had tonight wasn’t part of the mission. It was real.”

I kiss him hard, swallowing his words, my tongue sliding deep as I grind against him, needing him to feel me too.

“Then don’t let it end,” I say, voice breaking as I pull back, staring into his eyes, dark and raw. He groans, thrusts picking up just a notch, cock slamming deeper as his hand slips between us, rubbing my clit fast and firm.

I come first, a sharp cry tearing from my throat as my pussy spasms around him, gushing wet and hot, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath us. He follows quick, growling low as he pulls out, stroking himself fast, cum spurting thick and white across my tits, painting me in warm streaks.

He collapses beside me, chest heaving, and pulls me close, smearing his cum between us as our skin sticks together. I curl into him, legs tangling with his, my head resting on his shoulder as his arm wraps tight around my waist, holding me there.

We don’t move, don’t rush to untangle, just lie there wrapped in each other, sweat cooling on our bodies. The war outside rages on in my mind—bunkers, Enzo, blood—but here, with him, I find a stillness I didn’t know I could claim.

His breath evens out, warm against my hair as his fingers trace lazy circles on my hip.

My eyes drift shut, body heavy and sated, sinking into the mattress beside him.

For the first time, no blood fills my dreams—just light, soft and steady, wrapping around me. I don't trust him completely. But I trust him with this. With me. That has to be enough—for now.

We fall asleep like that, tangled tight in each other’s arms, the safehouse quiet around us.

Chapter 23 – Kieran

We don’t speak on the way down to the chapel.

The sun hangs low in the sky, dragging shadows behind us like tired animals. Sylvara holds my hand.

Barely.

Her fingers graze mine like she wants the contact, but doesn’t trust what it means. I don’t blame her. I haven’t said what I’m about to do. Not out loud. But she knows.

She always knows.

The chapel rises out of the sand like a ghost that forgot how to stay buried.

I push the door open with one hand, and we step inside.

Father Ettore is already there.

He lights the last of three candles on the stone altar, his hands steady despite the wind that slips in behind us. The wax drips in slow rivers down the cracked marble.

He doesn’t look at us as we enter.

No greeting. No sermon.

Just a man standing in the ruins of a godless place, waiting for us to surrender what’s left.

“You came,” he says finally.

“We said we would,” I reply.

Sylvara’s eyes flick to me, then to him. She doesn’t move closer.

He steps back from the altar. “The terms haven’t changed.”

“Say them,” I tell him.

Ettore nods once. “The syndicate will give you protection. New identities. Safe passage overseas. You’ll disappear.”

“And the price?” I ask, though I already know.

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