Page 32 of Veil of Smoke

“You used to trust me,” he says.

I shake my head. “I used to know who you were.”

“I haven’t changed.”

“Yes, you have.”

I move to pass him. He steps aside.

But not enough.

“You’re not thinking straight,” he says.

“I’m thinking clearer than I ever have.”

“I saw your shop,” he says. “The blood. The damage.”

“You didn’t stop it.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You knew enough to show up now.”

He doesn’t answer.

I walk to the stairs.

He watches me go.

“Be careful who you trust,” he says.

I glance back.

“I am,” I reply.

Then there's a crash. It doesn’t sound like an accident.

It’s heavy. Fast. Splintered glass and metal scraping tile. My front window—smashed in. The sharp clatter that follows is one of the displays flipping hard across the floor.

Ignazio pulls his gun. Doesn’t move.

My heart slams once. Then again.

“That was my window,” I say.

“I heard it.”

“Then go.”

His eyes stay on the stairs.

He doesn’t move. Instead, he says, “Wait.”

That word is too calm. Too timed.

Another footstep overhead. Someone heavy, not rushing. The same bootfall from the alley.

They aren’t hiding anymore.

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