Milan — Abandoned railway depot
Smoke and gunfire turned the warehouse into a labyrinth of shadows.
Vera and Enzo, hauling Luca between them, ran as fast as they could, leaping over twisted rails and abandoned crates.
Behind them, guards shouted orders.
More gunfire cracked through the air, echoing like whiplashes against the metal.
Enzo glanced at Vera as they ran.
— If we can reach the service tunnel, we have a chance! — he shouted.
But the path was a minefield.
Two guards emerged ahead, blocking their way.
Vera reacted without thinking: she briefly let go of Luca, raised her pistol with both hands, and fired twice.
The first shot hit one guard's leg — he collapsed, screaming.
The second shot grazed the other, making him stumble back in confusion.
Enzo quickly grabbed Luca again.
— Move!
They ran, lungs burning, muscles screaming.
The faint light of the service tunnel appeared ahead — salvation, so close yet still so far.
More guards flanked them.
More bullets tore through the air.
One bullet shredded Vera's coat.
Another shattered a steel beam overhead.
But they didn't stop.
They couldn't stop.
When they reached the tunnel entrance, Enzo and another fighter turned to cover the rear, firing frantically to buy precious seconds.
Vera and Luca were the first to slip through the narrow grate.
Behind them, chaos roared like a wounded beast.
But in the darkness of the tunnel, there was something the pursuers could never understand:
Hope doesn't die easily.