Milan — Improvised shelter
The truck rumbled along for half an hour through backroads, cutting through forgotten alleys and abandoned fields.
When it finally stopped, they were well out of immediate reach from their pursuers.
An old, abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of Milan now served as a temporary refuge.
Vera jumped down from the truck first, helping Luca to climb down carefully.
He still limped, but the light in his eyes had returned.
Enzo followed quickly, along with the other resistance fighters.
— Quickly! — the driver urged. — We don't have much time before the whole city turns upside down.
Inside the crumbling stone house, they improvised a field hospital.
Vera cleaned Luca's wounds with firm but gentle hands.
He barely flinched — only stared at her with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.
— You came back for me, — he said, his voice rough.
Vera gave a faint smile, not looking away.
— You would've done the same.
For a moment, the outside world ceased to exist.
No gunfire.
No shouting.
Only two souls bound together by what they had lost — and what they still hoped to build.
But time was not on their side.
Enzo pulled Vera aside.
— We need to regroup. The resistance in the squares is growing, but without clear leadership, we might lose everything we've fought for.
Vera nodded.
She knew the time to rest would be short.
The war in the streets of Milan was just beginning.
But now, with Luca at her side, she no longer felt fear.
Only the certainty that the revolution had found its true leaders.