Beneath The Ashes

With the weight of the smoke and dust crushing down on her lungs, Francesca’s chest constricted. Her attempt to yell Dante's name once more was met with a raspy whisper. Feeling the hard stone of the tunnel floor and Dante's still body next to her, her hands scrabbled in the darkness.

She gave his arm a shake. "Wake up, Dante! Would you please—” Silence.

Footsteps sounded distantly down the tunnel, getting louder and more insistent with time. Lorenzo's men were on their way, and if they came across them, they would not think twice about killing them.

Francesca knelt down, tracing Dante's face with her fingers. Thank God, there was still a pulse, but he was unconscious. Dark and slippery blood dripped from a wound on his forehead. Though panic shot through her veins, she pushed herself to focus.

"Okay, okay," she whispered to herself as she wiped perspiration and grime from her forehead. "Pull yourself together."

Reaching for his arm, she attempted to raise him. "Dante, I will leave you here if you don't wake up, I swear to God." Her tone became strained. She felt the oppressive, unrelenting weight of the moment bearing down on her.

"Arrrgh,” Dante grunts, and his eyelids flutter open. His hand twitched as he tentatively grasped her wrist. "Francesca." He called in a scarcely audible voice.

With a wave of relief, she released a trembling breath. "Thank God you're conscious."

He winced and attempted to sit up. "What the heck happened?"

She hastily explained, "You were knocked out when the tunnel exploded," and assisted him in leaning against the wall. “Lorenzo's men are closing in. We must get out quickly.”

Dante blinked, his eyes still hazy. "Lorenzo?"

“Oh yeah! Your favorite psychopath. He's not giving up.” As Francesca heard footsteps approaching, she cast a quick glance down the tunnel. "Are you able to stand?

Dante pressed against the stone wall, gritting his teeth. "I have no option."

They worked together to help him stand. He wavered, obviously still dazed, but his eyes had once again gained their fire. He had no intention of surrendering easily.

Vince emerged from the darkness, his hands gripping his side where his shirt was drenched with blood. "We've got a problem, boss."

Francesca, her nerves frayed, whispered under her breath, "No kidding."

"We must leave before Lorenzo's men turn this place into our tomb."

With his hand pressed over his head wound, Dante steadied himself. "How many?"

Vince dabbed at his sweaty brow. “Two. Maybe three. They're getting closer.”

Francesca felt her fear return. Three dudes with guns? She doubted Dante's physical fitness to take on one opponent, much less three.

Dante's jaw became tense. "We're not going to be targets, Vince. Do you have ammunition?”

"Hardly," Vince said. "We can take them, but we have to move quickly."

Dante glanced at Francesca, asking her. "Are you able to fire a gun?"

Her heart raced as she forcefully gulped. "Not really,"

"Not at all, or not really?"

"Alright, I've... fired a gun before." Francesca lost her cool. "But not at anybody."

Dante fixed his eyes on her with an expression that was impossible to read. “That is going to change right now. Take this.” He pulled a tiny revolver from his waistband and gave it to her.

There was no time to hesitate, even if the cold metal felt weighty and unfamiliar in her hands. With a nod, she grasped the weapon as though her life depended on it, which really it did.

Vince cast a tense glance over his shoulder. “They'll be upon us at any moment. Either we take a chance and flee, or we try to hold them off.”

Dante's expression became stern, with blood seeping from his temple. "We have to fight."

Francesca felt her stomach drop. "Are you crazy? You can hardly stand.”

He kept his eyes fixed on hers without flinching. “They are going to continue to come after us if we flee. Here is where we wrap things up.”

The first set of footsteps came around the corner before she could protest. When Francesca saw a black-clad man with his gun drawn, her heart leaped into her throat. Her heart began to pound in her ears, and time appeared to slow down.

Dante was the first to move. He grabbed his gun, fired, and the man fell to the ground in one smooth motion. Vince was the next to move, finishing out the second man before he could even lift his gun.

"Francesca, down!" Dante bellowed, his tone acerbic and authoritative. She got down just in time to see another shot go off, the projectile bouncing off the wall in the spot where her head had been. With his gun pointing directly at them, a third figure materialized out of the shadows.

With adrenaline rushing through her veins, Francesca’s heart raced. Tightening her grip on the pistol, she tried to recall all the things she had learnt from her few visits to a shooting range and from the movies she had watched. She aimed, her hand trembling.

Dante snarled, holding his own gun steady as he shot once more, missing the mark. "Stop thinking. Just pull the trigger.”.

The man approached, his gun now leveled squarely at Dante. Francesca’s heart was racing, and she felt every molecule of her body yell at her to get up and go, but she chose not to. She pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot reverberated loudly in the little passageway. The man fell to the ground, dropping his rifle from his hand and holding his shoulder. As the realization of what she had done set in, Francesca remained motionless, her chest heaving. She had shot someone!

Dante took hold of her arm and propelled her to her feet. "We must not stop moving."

She nodded, pushing herself forward even though her legs were shaking. "I... I shot him."

Surprisingly composed, Dante remarked, "You did what you had to."

They walked fast, the tunnel still quivering from the explosion's aftershocks. Vince led the way, moving purposefully despite a minor limp. As they got closer to what Francesca assumed would be the exit, the tunnel swirled and twisted, and the air became colder.

They arrived at the exit after what seemed like a lifetime. In front of them, partially obscured by darkness, was a corroded metal door. Vince pried it open to uncover a short stairwell that led to the top.

Vince exhaled and remarked, "This leads to the forest behind the estate. We can leave now and regroup with the others."

Dante gave a nod, but his gaze quickly darted to Francesca, who was still holding the pistol hard, exposing her knuckles. He said, softening his voice suddenly, "You okay?"

She glanced up at him and blinked. "Dante, I just shot someone. I'm not sure how to react to that.”

His hand settled across her shoulder, his hold solid but not harsh. "You did what you had to do. In our world, a minute hesitation can get you killed.”

She forcefully swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle in. "This world is not mine."

"Perhaps not," he said. "But it is mine. And you're in it right now.”

Even in the middle of all this chaos, Francesca couldn't help but notice the weird pull between them—the intensity of his gaze, the way he gazed at her as if seeing something more than just the girl from the bakery.

However, the door behind them creaked open before either of them could say anything more. A familiar figure emerged from the tunnel, his face contorted into a menacing smile, and Francesca’s heart leaped into her throat. "Going somewhere, Dante?"

With two of his men at his sides and their rifles aimed at the trio, Lorenzo stood at the top of the stairs. Dante's eyes were black and menacing, and his face turned to stone. "Lorenzo."

Lorenzo's gaze darted between them as his smile grew. "I warned you there'd be hell to pay, Dante.”

Dante moved, taking up position with his gun between Lorenzo and Francesca.

"Lorenzo, you came all this way to die?"

With a glint in his eyes, Lorenzo laughed. “No, Dante. I came to see your demise.”

Francesca’s blood turned cold when she heard the cocking of a gun echoing through the tunnel. The man standing next to Lorenzo lifted his revolver and aimed it directly at Dante. There was no place left to run.