Page 42 of Veil of Smoke

Behind me, I know Dario’s there—out of sight but close. We planned this. Mapped it twice. But I’m the bait.

Three steps past the last crate. That’s the signal. If I don’t say the word in time, Dario comes in hard.

That was my idea.

After last night, I woke up different. Not gentler. Not more broken. The opposite. I kept thinking about the way he touched me—careful, reverent, like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just surviving, but alive. It should’ve softened me.

It sharpened me.

That kind of tenderness doesn’t belong in this world unless you’re ready to fight to keep it.

A muffled step behind me.

Then a second.

My pace slows.

Another echo. Closer.

I don’t turn. I let the sound follow me.

“Pretty night for a walk,” a voice calls out.

Male. Calm. Too amused.

I stop walking and turn toward it.

He’s standing under the edge of a lamppost, hood up, sleeves too long. Boots muddy, face shadowed. He steps out farther, just enough for me to see the shape of his grin. Too easy.

“Midnight stroll, huh?” he says. “A little late for florals and lace.”

I don’t speak.

He squints at me through the mist. “You were at the dock.”

I say nothing.

“You’re not Caldera,” he continues. “But Corradino wants you gone.”

I back up a step, toward the rusted container we marked earlier. A little more. Let him follow. Let him think he’s in control.

He moves closer.

“Pretty thing like you doesn’t belong here,” he says.

“You’re right,” I reply.

He tilts his head. That second of confusion is all I need.

I draw the knife from my coat and step in hard.

It goes deep, right under his ribs. My hand shakes when I twist it, but I don’t pull back. He gasps—a wet, guttural sound. His arms flail, reaching for me, but he’s already folding.

His breath gurgles against my neck. I shove him off the blade and he drops. Just drops. Not a word. Blood pools fast.

I step away, my chest heaving.

My fingers burn where they gripped the handle too tight. He’s choking now. Wet and slow. Trying to crawl but not going anywhere.

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