Milan — Abandoned industrial zone
The sky was still a blanket of darkness when Vera and her twelve companions reached the entrance to the old service tunnel.
The air reeked of rust and dampness.
Rats scurried across the worn tracks.
Each step echoed like a whispered death sentence.
Vera gripped a rusty flashlight in one hand and a small pistol in the other.
There was no room for mistakes.
Enzo led the group, following the rough map an old railway worker had drawn from memory.
"Absolute silence," he murmured. "One wrong sound, and they'll hunt us like dogs."
The tunnel stretched ahead, a forgotten vein beneath the city.
They walked for almost twenty minutes, dodging potholes, jumping over broken rails, pushing through curtains of spider webs.
Finally, a faint light seeped through a rusted grate.
"This is it," Enzo whispered.
The grate opened into the depot's interior — a massive warehouse filled with twisted metal structures, abandoned crates, and, at the far end, makeshift barracks fenced with barbed wire.
Armed men patrolled slowly.
And in one of those central barracks, according to the information, Luca was being held.
Vera took a deep breath.
The plan was simple — and deadly:
Split the team into three groups.
Cause a distraction on one side of the warehouse.
Free Luca while the guards were occupied.
Escape before the real storm broke.
Vera looked at Enzo.
He simply nodded.
There was no turning back now.
The skin of the city was dark, filthy, and scarred.
And it was through those scars that hope was about to slip.