Page 84 of Veil of Smoke

Inside, tech hums low—stacked devices, sleek and black, humming. My hands don’t shake as I kneel, planting the first charge near the power cores.

The second goes under the pallet base, tucked snug against the wood. If this works, Caldera loses their teeth—their toys, their grip.

I glance up, catch Viviana’s eyes flicking to me. Her signal cuts through—hurry—and I nod, sealing the crate shut fast.

She’s still talking, voice faint but smooth. “It’s probably just a mix-up—let me double-check the log.”

The guard mutters something, turning his back to me. I slide out, heart pounding, and signal her—done—with a quick tap to my chest.

She straightens, gathering the papers, keeping him hooked. I melt back into the shadows, moving toward the stack where we’ll regroup.

Overhead lights buzz, casting yellow streaks across the yard. A gull cries out somewhere distant, and a truck engine rumbles beyond the fence.

I keep low, weaving between crates, my pulse steady but fast. She’s good—too good—and it’s keeping us alive right now.

The cold bites deeper as I near our spot. My fingers flex inside my gloves, itching to move, to finish this.

Viviana’s voice fades behind me, the guard still distracted. I stop behind a dented blue container, crouching, waiting for her.

She appears a minute later, stepping quick and quiet. Her cap’s tilted back now, green eyes sharp under the brim.

“Clean?” she asks, voice low, clipboard tucked under her arm.

“Clean,” I say, nodding. “Charges set.”

She exhales, short and tight. “He didn’t suspect anything.”

I grin, quick and thin. “You’re a natural.”

Her lips twitch, just a flash. “Had a good teacher.”

I check my watch—ten minutes until we trigger it. Plenty of time to get clear, but not enough to relax.

She adjusts her jacket, papers rustling. “How much damage?”

“Enough,” I say, patting the pack. “This tech’s their backbone—without it, they’re scrambling.”

She nods, eyes scanning the yard. “Then we’re one step ahead.”

“Always,” I say, standing straighter. My coat shifts, the charges secure underneath.

The guard’s still near the crate, pacing now, cigarette gone. He’s lazy, but he’s not blind—Viviana’s got him tied up good.

I lean against the container, watching her. She’s steady, focused, but there’s a fire in her I can’t miss.

“Camila’d be proud,” I say, voice low. “You’re hitting them where it hurts.”

She looks at me, sharp and quick. “This isn’t just for her.”

“I know,” I say, meeting her gaze. “It’s for us too.”

Her fingers tighten on the clipboard. “And them—every bastard who thinks they own this city.”

I nod, feeling that truth sink in. Caldera’s been a shadow too long—now we’re cutting into it.

The wind picks up, rattling a loose panel nearby. I glance around, instincts sharp, but the yard’s still ours.

Viviana steps closer, voice dropping. “You sure about the charges?”

---