Page 98 of Veil of Smoke

“This is it, Viviana.”

“I know.”

“We don’t get a second run.”

“I don’t need one.”

I hang up before I say anything else. There’s nothing more that matters.

The wind picks up. Fog curls between the rows of containers like smoke from a dying fire.

I walk toward it.

And don’t look back

Viviana meets me in the same back room where we first mapped out the heist. The table is cleared now, the windows curtained. The walls hum with tension, not conversation.

She doesn’t say hello. Just walks to the table as I set the node down. Her hand brushes mine, briefly. Not an accident. Not a comfort.

A promise.

“We intercept the shipment,” she says. “Replace the crates with dummies. Let Caldera think they still have teeth.”

I nod.

“And we end it there.”

“Hard.”

She looks up at me. “Louder than fire.”

I want to kiss her, but I don’t. Not here. Not now.

Instead, I press my palm flat to the table beside hers. Side by side.

“This is our last move,” I say.

She doesn’t move. “Then let’s make it worthwhile.”

And for the first time in years, I know what I’m fighting for—and it isn’t survival.

It’s truth. Even if it kills us.

Chapter 23 – Viviana

I guide Dario up the stairs to the rooftop of T-Bone’s high-rise, my hand steady in his. The black dress I chose hugs my skin, soft and simple, swaying with each step I take.

Midnight washes over us as I push the door open, the city unfurling below, gold and blue lights threading through the skyline. Lake Michigan stretches out in the distance, stars glinting sharp on its dark face.

The rooftop’s bare, just as I wanted, cleared of mess. Glass jars with candles line the edges, their flames swaying in the cool breeze. A blanket drapes over a lounge chair, old cushions piled atop it.

I turn to him, my hair catching the wind. “I wanted a place above the noise,” I say, voice clear and firm. “A place that feels ours.”

He nods, stepping beside me, his boots brushing the concrete soft. We sit side by side on the chair, overlooking the city, and he stays quiet, sensing the moment I’ve shaped.

The breeze grazes my arms, cool but gentle, and the candle warmth curls around us, keeping it close, intimate. I feel every breath, every heartbeat, all mine to claim.

I turn to him, his dark eyes catching the starlight. “You’ve loved me in a hundred ways,” I say, voice soft but sure. “Let me show you one of mine.”

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