Page 23 of Veil of Dust

The bolt slides into place. It’s not loud, but it lands with weight. Final.

Vespera doesn’t look up. She’s behind the counter, wiping it down with a rag that doesn’t look like it’s doing much. Her hand moves slowly, like the act matters more than the result. Like she’s scrubbing off something that’s not actually there.

She doesn’t say anything.

I watch her shoulders. There’s tension in the way she moves—tight, deliberate.

“Stop running,” I say. My voice comes out rough, sharper than I mean.

She sets the rag down, still not looking at me. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she says.

“I’m not.”

She finally meets my eyes. There’s no tremor in her gaze, but I catch the breath she inhales before locking it in place.

“Then give me space,” she says.

“Make me,” I say.

Neither of us moves. The distance between us isn’t big, but it might as well be ten feet with everything sitting between us.

She holds my stare. Her face is stern. I can see it in her expression—frustration, something biting at the edge. She lookslike she could hit me. Or walk out. Or maybe grab me by the collar. I can’t tell.

“I don’t want you here,” she says.

“I’m not leaving.”

“You got what you wanted,” she snaps.

“I said yes. To the books. The deal. The risk. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” I say.

Her eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“Because you’re not being honest.”

She steps around the bar, her boots scraping across the floor as she stops a few feet from me.

“Then say what you think I’m hiding.”

“You’re acting like this didn’t shake you.”

She crosses her arms. “It’s just business. You treated it that way. I followed your lead.”

“No. You used business to avoid talking about everything else.”

She draws in a slow breath through her nose but keeps her eyes on mine.

“I’m tired,” she says. “You show up, tell me what I feel, like you’ve been part of my life for longer than you have.”

“You shoved a knife into a man two hours ago and didn’t blink. And now you want me to believe you feel nothing?”

“I don’t owe you that,” she says.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I reply. “But I’m still standing here.”

She doesn’t back off.

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