Page 44 of Veil of Dust

Just one.

But I feel it.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t need to.

The moment holds.

Loud voices echo from the far end of the room. Glasses clink. The sound of life pressing forward.

But none of it breaks the moment between us.

I turn my head, just enough to catch his eyes.

He’s not hiding anything. There’s want in his stare, sure. But there’s more.

Conviction.

He didn’t just fight for me.

He stayed.

And that means something I’m not ready to name.

But I feel it.

I’m not alone.

And that—more than knives, more than blood, more than Alfeo—makes everything real.

Too real.

More dangerous than anything waiting outside.

Chapter 9 – Tiziano

Cash stacks easier in silence.

I crouch by the old wine shelf, rolling bills into tight bands, pressing them into the crate lined with canvas and sweat. The scent of the basement is mold and metallic humidity, like old copper swallowed by heat. It clings to my skin, heavy, mixing with the faint trace of gun oil on my hands.

I count in my head—bundles, numbers, and safehouse references. This shipment completes a cycle. The next one moves through the new ports, a network I’ve carved out through nights like this. Every move is calculated, and every dollar is a step toward control.

Everything lines up.

Except her.

I feel Vespera watching me from across the room. Arms crossed, shoulder leaned against the far post. Her presence is a blade at the base of my spine, sharp and unrelenting, cutting through the focus I’ve built.

She hasn’t spoken in five minutes, but her silence isn’t empty. It buzzes, not from the fridges humming low or the flicker of the overhead light.

It’s her.

She hasn’t moved since I started repacking the last crate. Her stillness feels deliberate, like she’s waiting for something to crack, me or the world we’re holding together.

I slot one final stack in and close the lid. It clicks softly, padded, the sound swallowed by the basement’s weight.

“You keep hiding bodies under my bar,” she says, sharp and clear, her voice slicing through the quiet, “you better start paying rent.”

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