Page 106 of Veil of Dust

It still hums. Cars pass slowly. A saxophone riff rolls down a side street, laced with static. Somewhere, a bottle shatters. Two voices laugh under their breath, too far off to see. Neon flashes on wet pavement like nothing happened.

But everything did.

Beside me, Vespera doesn’t say a word.

She stands barefoot on the rooftop gravel, wrapped in one of my shirts—too big, sleeves rolled. Her hair’s loose, damp at the ends. She hasn’t said much since we got back. Just showered. Pulled bourbon. Climbed up here.

Now she watches the stars.

Like she’s waiting for a signal.

I say the first words, voice low. “I should feel free.”

She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t ask why.

“But I only feel still,” I finish.

Her fingers curl around the edge of the railing. Her gray eyes stay fixed on the skyline.

“You’re still tethered,” she says.

Her voice isn’t cold. It’s fact.

I nod.

“To you,” I add.

She hears it. I know she does.

But she doesn’t flinch.

We stand like that for a while. Not talking. Just breathing. Just watching.

Below us, the neighborhood is still standing. The bar’s lights glow beneath us—pink through the windows, the hum of the fridge and the thrum of the pipes still alive.

No one here knows the Sable Order is gone. That their Elder bled out on a throne room floor. That the files burned. That every old tie was cut.

Except us.

I glance over.

She still hasn’t looked at me.

So I take the leap.

“Run with me.”

That gets her attention.

She turns.

“What?”

“Run with me,” I say again. “We disappear. Start over. New names. No one hunting. No debts. No ghosts. Just you and me.”

Her brow tightens. Her teeth grits.

“I stay.”

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