Page 49 of Veil of Smoke

Not with pity.

With understanding.

She reaches for my hand.

I pull back.

Just a twitch. Reflex. Stupid.

But she doesn’t flinch.

She waits.

Then reaches again, slower this time.

This time, I let her.

Her fingers are warm against mine.

No panic. No hesitation.

I exhale.

“I thought if I saved you, maybe I could bury him.” Her grip tightens slightly. “But I don’t want to bury you.”

Viviana shifts closer. Her eyes don’t blink. “You’re not going to.”

“You say that now.”

“And I’ll say it again tomorrow.”

The tension in my shoulders starts to unravel. It doesn’t vanish. Just cracks enough for breath to slip in.

Her other hand moves, brushing the edge of my jacket. Then she’s reaching up, touching my face.

I flinch.

Not from pain but from the way it lands—like a balm I didn’t ask for but desperately need.

She tilts her head slightly. “You still think you’re the villain in every story.”

“Because I usually am.”

“You weren’t the night you found me.”

“That doesn’t erase the rest.”

“No,” she agrees. “But it means I’m not here by accident.”

Viviana’s touch stays on my face. It feels right there. Too right.

I step back before I let myself trust it.

The gap between us grows. My chest squeezes tight.

I turn. Cross the room. My hands shake once before I jam them into my pockets.

She watches me. Doesn’t speak.

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