Chapter 49: Knife Logic
Chapter 49: Knife Logic
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The rain hadn’t stopped since Eastburn. It sluiced down the alley walls in black streams, carrying the stink of the Burn Market with it. Dante’s boots were slick on the cobblestones as he moved, his mind replaying the ghost’s last words.
> You’re not ready to pay for what you’re asking, Dante.
That was the kind of line that could mean anything—payment in money, blood, or secrets. He had a bad feeling he already knew which one.
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They’d holed up in a half-collapsed warehouse near the edge of the undercity’s transit junction. The walls were lined with stacks of rusted containers, some still humming faintly from old refrigeration units. Every creak in the metal sounded like a footstep.
Lira was pacing, blade in hand, flipping it
