Chapter Two — Vinny Moretti
Vinny refused to let her look at the blood.
Which meant it was worse than usual.
“Ave.”
His voice stayed calm, but Avery already knew him well enough to hear the strain beneath
it.
He shoved his stained hand into his coat pocket before she could reach for him.
Not reach.
She corrected herself immediately.
She never reached.
Not really.
Not for anyone.
“You’re getting pale again,” he said lightly, like they were still having the same conversation
as before.
Avery stared at him.
“You’re coughing blood.”
“I’ve done that before.”
“That doesn’t make it normal.”
“Nothing about me is normal.”
“That isn’t funny.”
Vinny’s mouth curved anyway.
He always smiled at the wrong moments.
Rain hammered harder overhead now, rattling through broken ceiling panels while green
light flickered unevenly across the corridor walls. Somewhere nearby, old pipes groaned
through the building like something dying slowly beneath the city.
Avery hated that sound.
Poison City always sounded alive in the worst ways.
“Come with me,” Vinny said quietly.
“No.”
“You don’t even know where I’m taking you.”
“That’s exactly why the answer is no.”
His smile widened slightly.
“There she is.”
Avery rolled her eyes, but relief loosened something inside her chest anyway.
This was the dangerous part about him.
Not the Moretti name.
Not the city watching them.
Not even the poison.
It was how easy he made breathing feel.
Like her body forgot to stay afraid around him.
Vinny glanced once toward the market entrance before lowering his voice.
“I found a clean route through Lower Vein.”
“You’re lying already.”
“A partially clean route.”
“Vinny.”
“The café’s still running below Cathedral Transit.”
Avery looked at him.
“You want to go back.”
“You looked like you needed it last time.”
“Everything in this city is suspicious.”
True.
Unfortunately.
Vinny offered his arm dramatically.
“Come suffer through stale coffee and my company.”
“You make both sound unpleasant.”
“You wound me.”
She hesitated too long.
Vinny noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His expression softened slightly around the edges.
“You’ve barely left the district in weeks,” he said more quietly now. “You need air that
doesn’t taste recycled.”
“There isn’t air in this city that doesn’t taste recycled.”
“I found better recycled air.”
Avery tried not to smile again and failed.
God.
This was how he did it.
Not with grand declarations.
Not with pressure.
Tiny things.
Tiny impossible kindnesses stacked slowly enough she never noticed herself depending on
them until it was already too late.
Another cough hit him suddenly.
This one worse.
Vinny bent slightly at the waist before straightening too fast afterward.
Too controlled.
Too practiced.
Avery’s stomach turned.
“How long?”
He stilled.
“That’s never a good question.”
“How long have you been coughing blood?”
Silence.
Rainwater dripped steadily somewhere behind them.
Three seconds.
Four.
Then—
“A while.”
“A while,” Avery repeated flatly.
“I know how that sounds.”
“You say that like I’m overreacting.”
“You are overreacting.”
“You are literally dying.”
Vinny laughed once under his breath.
Wrong response.
Entirely wrong.
Avery stepped backward instinctively.
Fear surged up so fast it nearly made her dizzy.
Not fear of him.
Never him.
Fear of herself.
Of what she’d done.
Her gloves suddenly felt too thin against her skin.
Vinny saw it happen in real time.
The distance.
The panic.
The guilt.
His expression shifted immediately.
“Avery.”
“No.”
“Ave—”
“No, don’t.” Her voice cracked harder than she wanted. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you already forgave me.”
Something painful flickered across his face then.
Not anger.
Worse.
Understanding.
Vinny stepped closer anyway.
She stepped back again immediately.
The movement hit him harder than it should’ve.
Avery saw it.
God, she saw it.
But he still didn’t stop.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
“I am looking at you.”
“No.” His voice gentled further. “You’re looking at a body.”
The words landed like knives.
Because he was right.
Sometimes that was all Avery saw anymore.
Not people.
Not futures.
Just countdowns.
“How bad is it?” she whispered.
Vinny held her gaze for a long moment.
Then smiled again.
Smiled.
“I’m still prettier than most people in this district.”
A broken laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
Vinny’s expression eased slightly in victory.
There it was.
That was always his goal.
Not making her happy.
Just making her hurt a little less.
It terrified her how much she loved him for that.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Before the rain floods the lower tracks.”
Avery stared at him another second too long.
Then finally nodded.
Vinny’s relief was nearly invisible.
But it was there.
Together they moved deeper into the corridor, shoulder to shoulder but never touching,
while Poison City groaned and breathed around them like something enormous rotting
slowly in the dark.
The café existed beneath the city like a secret somebody forgot to bury.
Avery followed Vinny down three rusted stairwells and through an abandoned transit
platform flooded ankle-deep with rainwater before they reached it.
No sign.
No lights outside.
Just a heavy metal door hidden behind old ventilation pipes.
Vinny knocked twice.
Paused.
Then once more.
Locks shifted internally before the door cracked open.
A filtered gust of warm air escaped into the corridor.
Clean air.
Real clean air.
Avery nearly stumbled from the shock of it.
The woman inside narrowed her eyes immediately.
“You brought company.”
“She likes when you insult her before dinner,” Vinny replied smoothly.
“I don’t know her.”
“You know me.”
“That’s usually worse.”
The woman’s gaze shifted toward Avery then lingered briefly on the gloves.
The hood.
The careful distance.
Recognition flickered.
Not full recognition.
But enough.
People sensed danger in Avery before they understood it.
Still, the woman stepped aside eventually.
“Two hours,” she muttered. “Then you’re gone.”
Vinny pressed folded credits into her palm on the way past.
Too many.
Avery saw the amount disappear before the woman could hide her surprise.
“You overpay everyone,” Avery murmured once the door shut behind them.
“It builds character.”
“It builds robbery.”
Warmth wrapped around her immediately inside the café.
Not heat exactly.
Filtered air.
Dry air.
Air without rust or chemical burn slicing down into her lungs.
God.
Avery closed her eyes briefly before she could stop herself.
Vinny noticed.
Again.
Always.
Something in his expression softened with painful immediacy.
The café itself was tiny — barely six tables beneath hanging industrial lamps dimmed
amber instead of the city’s usual sick green glow. Old music crackled softly through hidden
speakers somewhere overhead while rain drummed against reinforced windows facing the
flooded rail tunnels outside.
People spoke quietly here.
Nobody stared.
Nobody moved away from Avery.
It felt unnatural enough to hurt.
Vinny guided her toward the back corner automatically.
Their corner.
That realization startled her slightly.
When had this become routine?
When had he become routine?
Avery slipped carefully into the booth across from him while he shrugged off his damp coat.
Black fabric stretched across his shoulders beneath the low light, and for one dangerous
second she remembered exactly how it had felt last winter when he’d nearly fallen asleep
against her during a power outage.
Warm.
Heavy.
Trusting.
She shoved the memory away immediately.
Vinny leaned back slightly, studying her with that same quiet attention he always carried
around her.
“You look tired.”
“You look dead.”
“That’s rude.”
“That’s honest.”
“I preferred rude.”
A server dropped two chipped ceramic cups onto the table without speaking. Steam curled
upward immediately carrying the bitter scent of over brewed coffee and cheap spice syrup.
Avery wrapped both gloved hands around the cup instinctively.
Warmth seeped through the fabric slowly.
Vinny watched the motion.
Then his gaze lowered toward the black leather bag strapped securely at her hip.
“There it is,” he murmured.
Avery stiffened slightly.
The journal.
Nobody mentioned it.
Nobody asked.
Most people avoided looking at the bag entirely after they learned what was inside.
Vinny never did.
His eyes lingered on the worn stitching thoughtfully.
“You fixed the strap again.”
“It snapped.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“You would’ve bought me a new one.”
“I can hear the problem in your voice when you say that.”
Avery looked down at the bag unconsciously.
The leather had softened with age, edges scuffed silver in places from years of handling.
Tiny mismatched repairs crossed sections of the seams where thread colors no longer
matched properly.
Ugly repairs.
Careless repairs.
But hers.
The weight resting against her hip had become so familiar over the years that sometimes
she forgot what panic felt like until she imagined losing it.
Vinny’s voice gentled slightly.
“How many now?”
Her throat tightened instantly.
She knew what he meant.
Avery stared into the dark coffee instead of answering.
The café lights hummed faintly overhead.
Finally—
“Thirty-two.”
Vinny went quiet.
Not shocked.
Never shocked.
Just listening.
Avery hated how easily words came around him sometimes.
“It wasn’t all my fault,” she whispered eventually. “Some were already sick. Some were
accidents.”
Vinny nodded once.
Not arguing.
Not comforting.
Just letting her say it.
“The little girl in South Vein wasn’t,” Avery continued softly. “She grabbed my hand before I
could stop her.”
Rain hammered harder outside.
“She had this stupid yellow scarf.” Avery laughed once under her breath, the sound
breaking halfway through. “I still have part of it.”
Vinny’s jaw tightened slightly.
Not disgust.
Grief.
For her.
Always for her.
“She liked birds,” Avery whispered. “That’s what her mother said afterward.”
Silence settled heavily between them.
Then Vinny leaned forward slightly.
“Ave.”
She looked up reluctantly.
“You remember them.”
“That doesn’t bring them back.”
“No.” His voice stayed quiet. Steady. “But monsters don’t mourn the dead.”
The words hit too hard.
Avery looked away immediately before he could see it happen.
Because that was the problem with Vinny.
He never feared the poison.
He saw through it.
And Avery wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.