Page 72 of Veil of Dust

I move closer.

No names. No notes.

Just creased lines and coded marks.

Scouting paths. Supply lines.

Entry points.

Escape routes.

It’s not surveillance.

It’s coordination.

“They’re not scouting. They’re planning.”

They’re not waiting for weakness.

They’re counting on it.

I roll the map tight, tuck it under my arm.

Alfeo’s game just changed.

He wants fire?

I’ll give him a blaze to choke on.

I grab two of the liquor bottles and unscrew the caps. Then, I douse the walls—old wood, old ghosts, old plans.

The smell burns my nose.

I strike a match, watch it catch on the edge of the paper and lick up the wall.

Then I turn.

The shack erupts behind me.

Wood cracks. Ammo pops.

Flames chew through strategy and secrets.

Yet, I maintain my stance.

“I don’t wait for war anymore. I light it.”

The map crinkles in my fist.

My bar won’t fall.

Not while I’m still standing.

Chapter 18 – Tiziano

The shack’s still burning behind her.

She stands just beyond it—mud up to her ankles, ash on her arms, hair twisted from heat and fight. The map’s still holed up in her left hand, but her blade’s gone.

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