Page 108 of Veil of Dust

That’s not a yes. But it’s not a no either.

And I’ll take it.

She stands her ground when I step closer.

No tension in her shoulders. No warning in her breath.

Just stillness.

I stop in front of her, close enough to feel the warmth coming off her skin, the slight rise of her chest as she breathes, slow and tight.

She looks up at me. Her gray eyes are clear—not soft, not guarded. Just clear.

“I meant it,” I say.

Her gaze doesn’t drop. “You always mean it when it’s quiet.”

“I mean it when it matters.”

She watches me for a beat, like she’s testing the truth in that. Then she says, “Say it again.”

“Run with me.”

She doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t scoff. Just breathes it in.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I stay.”

Her throat works as she swallows.

“Even if this place chews you up?” she asks.

“I’ve been chewed up before.”

“And you want to do it again?” she asks.

“Not alone.”

She exhales. Her fingers brush my forearm—brief, almost casual. But I feel it like a brand.

“This is my city,” she says again. “My ghosts.”

“I know.”

“My war.”

I nod. “Then I fight with you.”

Her face shifts—just enough. Something breaks and reforms behind her eyes.

“I don’t want to be saved,” she says.

“I’m not here to save you.”

“I don’t need a shield.”

“I’m not one.”

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