Milan — Tunnel exit
The stale air of the tunnels clutched at Vera's and Luca's lungs like invisible claws.
They ran without looking back, gunfire still echoing against the stone walls.
Ahead, the small metal door of the emergency exit — rusted and groaning under years of abandonment — appeared like a promise of salvation.
Vera reached it first.
She shoved hard.
Nothing.
Locked.
Luca, limping but determined, joined her.
— Together! — he gasped.
With a hoarse cry, they both threw their weight against it.
The old lock groaned...
Gave way...
And with a painful crack, the door swung open.
A shaft of pale morning light sliced through the darkness like a golden blade.
They stumbled out into a deserted street, still slick from the night's drizzle.
Behind them, the sounds of their pursuers grew fainter — lost in the labyrinth of tunnels.
Vera collapsed to her knees on the asphalt, gasping for air.
Luca knelt beside her, smiling despite the sweat and soot covering his face.
Pressed tightly against Vera's chest, still clutched in her hands, were the documents.
The truth.
They had made it.
Milan still burned with chaos, but in that forgotten little street, a new era had begun to breathe.
And Vera knew:
the day of justice had finally dawned.