Page 31 of Veil of Dust

I hold it tighter.

The weight keeps me steady. Not emotionally—physically. Like it pulls me back into place.

My breathing evens out, and my back straightens.

I don’t close my eyes.

I watch the flame stabilize, watch the incense twist and fade upward.

And I think about her expression.

About how she didn’t smile. Didn’t sneer. Didn’t raise her chin or square her shoulders like she had something to prove.

She didn’t try to scare me.

She didn’t have to.

She stood still, and that was enough.

I tighten my grip on the locket. My fingers dig into the chain, and it presses against my skin until I feel it.

Bianca isn’t like Alfeo.

She’s not chaotic, not showy.

She’s surgical.

Not messy.

Not loud.

Precise.

But anything that sharp can still be broken—if you find the right angle.

Everything breaks under pressure if you apply it the right way.

Even her.

I pull the locket away from my skin and breathe deeply. The incense mixes with the air—rose, ash, and something bitter underneath.

I reach for the drawer under the altar shelf and pull out my notes.

Then, I start writing.

Chapter 7 – Tiziano

Mud clings to my boots, thick and heavy. It slows me down with every step.

I push through the swamp. The ground fights me—pulls at my feet like it doesn’t want to let go. Vines wrap around my ankles, wet and slick. I keep going.

My suit is done. My pants are soaked up to my knees, coated in sludge, and my shirt is stuck to my back with sweat. My jacket is tied around my waist. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to talk. This isn’t a deal.

It’s a cleanup job.

I’m tracking someone.

The one Vespera didn’t finish. The man who bled all over her alley, who carved a threat into her door and walked away still breathing.

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