Page 101 of Veil of Dust

I don’t answer.

I walk in, blade low, steps even.

The room smells of blood, burnt leather, and the decay of power that’s lost its mask.

“You’re your father’s daughter after all,” he continues.

He wants this to be a conversation.

He wants me to hesitate.

I don’t.

“I knew you’d come,” he says, more amused now. “They all fall back into the circle eventually. Power has a shape. And you—”

I move fast.

Blade in, under the ribs.

His mouth opens in a gasp. The words die on his tongue as blood fountains between us. It hits my chest, hot and thick.

I twist the blade.

“For Leon,” I whisper.

The light leaves his eyes before his body hits the floor.

He drops.

No scream. No final curse. Just the heavy thud of failure.

His robes bunch beneath him. His fingers twitch once, then still.

I stand over him, chest rising. Falling. Rising again.

He’s gone.

I don’t feel joy.

I don’t feel peace.

But I feel done.

I wipe the blade on his robe. One stroke. Clean.

Then I reach into my coat and pull out the last card I drew before I left the bar.

I place it on his chest.

Death.

Again.

Not fate. Not prophecy.

Confirmation.

I step back from the body. My gray eyes scan the room.

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