Page 21 of Veil of Smoke

I stomp down on his foot. His grip loosens.

I twist, free—but only for a second.

The shorter one lunges again. Grabs my hair. Yanks hard.

My head snaps back and slams into the brick.

Everything blurs.

The wall scrapes my shoulder as I fall. My knees hit the pavement. I taste metal. Try to crawl.

A boot slams into my ribs. I hit the bricks again.

Pain sears through me.

“Stay down,” the tall one mutters, pulling a blade from his coat.

He crouches beside me, presses the flat of it against my cheek.

“Corradino says hi,” he breathes. His breath smells like smoke and something sweet. I gag.

“Hold her,” he tells the other. “We’ll make it quick.”

He raises the blade. Then he disappears.

No warning. No sound. Just a blur and then his body crashes against the wall. The knife clatters beside him.

His partner barely turns before Dario’s there.

Black coat, fists moving fast—clinical. A punch to the gut, a twist of the wrist. Bone snaps. A knee drives into the man's chest. His back hits the brick with a thud. Dario slams his head once. Twice.

Blood spatters the bricks beside me.

The man drops.

Both are down. Neither moves.

I’m frozen against the wall, lungs burning, ribs throbbing. My palms sting—slick with blood from where I caught myself on the pavement.

Dario looks at me. His expression doesn’t change.

“That’s twice I’ve saved your life,” he says, voice low.

I press one hand to my side. Breathing’s harder now—tight, shallow. Not broken, but close.

“That doesn’t mean I owe you anything,” I reply, hoarse.

He steps toward me, eyes narrowing. “You’re bleeding.”

I glance down. My right palm’s sliced open. I must’ve hit a shard or a nail on the fall.

“Let me see,” he says.

“No,” I say quickly.

He doesn’t press. Just watches.

I grip the wound and force a breath in.

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