The forest seemed to hold its breath. Franco's cold smile pierced the darkness as he stood between Luca, Maria, and Marco—like a predator cornering his prey. The three of them were frozen, caught between disbelief and fear, as Franco's words echoed through the night.
"You didn't think it would be this easy, brother," Franco said again, his voice smooth, as though he had been playing a game all along.
Luca's muscles tensed, his hand still gripping his pistol. He could see Franco's men emerging from the shadows behind him, rifles gleaming in the moonlight. There were too many of them—more than Luca had anticipated. He glanced at Maria, who subtly shifted her weight, preparing to draw her weapon, but Franco's next words stopped her cold.
"Don't even think about it," Franco warned, his tone darkening. "You draw that gun, and they'll be dead before you take a step."
Luca swallowed hard, eyes flickering between Franco and his soldiers. He knew Franco wasn't bluffing. His brother had always been ruthless, willing to do whatever it took to maintain control. For a moment, the two locked eyes, the weight of years of betrayal and unresolved anger hanging heavy between them.
"Why, Franco?" Luca asked, his voice hoarse. "Why sell your own people out? Why fight for men like Mussolini when you know they don't care about Italy?"
Franco's smile faltered for a brief second, replaced by a hardened expression. "Because they understand power. They understand what it takes to survive in a world like this." He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "You've always been too idealistic, Luca. Fighting for 'the people,' for some noble cause that will get you killed. I'm fighting for what matters—control. And I've built something you'll never understand."
Luca's jaw tightened, rage bubbling beneath the surface. "You're wrong. You've become a puppet. A slave to power, just like the men you claim to control. They'll use you, and when they're done, they'll toss you aside."
Franco's laugh was cold, empty. "You still don't get it. That ledger you're so desperate to protect? It's nothing compared to what I've built. You think exposing a few deals between the mafia and the Axis will change anything? This war is already lost, Luca."
He turned his gaze to Maria and Marco. "Hand over the ledger, and I'll let them live. Resist, and I'll kill them right here. No negotiations."
Maria's hand hovered over her pistol, her breath shallow as she looked at Luca. "We can't give it to him," she whispered. "It's our only chance."
Luca's mind raced. Every option led to bloodshed. They were outnumbered and surrounded, and even if they managed to fight their way out, they'd lose the ledger—and everything they had worked for. But if they handed it over, they might lose the war itself.
Franco raised an eyebrow, his patience waning. "Tick tock, brother. What's it going to be?"
Time seemed to slow as Luca's mind raced, weighing their options, when suddenly, a rustling in the trees caught Franco's attention. His head snapped to the left just as a loud crack echoed through the forest. Franco's men spun toward the noise, rifles at the ready.
In that split second of distraction, Luca lunged.
He grabbed Maria's arm, pulling her down just as gunfire erupted from the treeline. Marco ducked, instinctively clutching the ledger to his chest as chaos exploded around them. The night lit up with flashes of gunfire, the smell of gunpowder thick in the air.
Reinforcements.
Luca didn't know where they had come from, but resistance fighters—Italian partisans—emerged from the forest, flanking Franco's men and opening fire. The forest turned into a battlefield, bullets cutting through the air as both sides exchanged gunfire.
Luca pulled Maria to her feet, and the two of them scrambled toward cover, ducking behind a fallen tree as bullets whizzed past them. Marco followed, diving for the dirt just as a soldier's body hit the ground beside him, blood pooling beneath his lifeless form.
"We have to move!" Maria shouted over the deafening noise.
Luca nodded, his heart racing. Franco's men were scattered, caught off guard by the ambush, but Franco himself had disappeared into the chaos. Luca scanned the treeline, searching for any sign of his brother, but the night was a swirl of shadows and violence.
They crawled through the underbrush, inching their way toward the edge of the skirmish. Luca's mind was focused on one thing: survival. The partisans were giving them a chance, but they wouldn't be able to hold Franco's men off forever.
Just as they reached a small clearing, a hand grabbed Luca's arm. He whipped around, ready to fight, but stopped short when he saw a familiar face staring back at him.
"Giovanni," Luca breathed, recognizing the leader of the local resistance cell. The man was in his mid-forties, grizzled from years of war, but his eyes were sharp and determined.
"We've been tracking Franco's movements," Giovanni said quickly, glancing around. "We heard you were headed this way."
Luca nodded, glancing back at the battle still raging behind them. "We need to get to Rome, and we need to get the ledger there before Franco catches up."
Giovanni's expression darkened. "He won't give up that easily. But we can give you cover, buy you time. Follow me."
They moved swiftly through the trees, the sound of gunfire fading as they put distance between themselves and the ambush. Luca's heart pounded in his chest, his mind still spinning from the encounter with Franco. His brother had let them go—for now—but Luca knew it wasn't over. Franco was playing a longer game, and the next time they met, it would be for the final confrontation.
By the time they stopped, the sun was beginning to rise, casting a pale light over the horizon. The forest was quiet now, the battle behind them a distant memory. Giovanni led them to a hidden cave, a small outpost used by the partisans for rest and regrouping.
"We'll rest here for a few hours," Giovanni said, lighting a small fire in the center of the cave. "You need to gather your strength. The road to Rome is dangerous, but we have allies waiting for you. We'll guide you as far as we can."
Luca sat down beside the fire, the warmth seeping into his bones. His thoughts drifted back to Franco, the look in his brother's eyes when they had last locked gazes. There was no saving Franco now. Whatever bond they once shared had been severed by the war, by the choices they had made.
Maria sat beside him, her face etched with exhaustion. She placed a hand on Luca's shoulder, her touch grounding him.
"We're going to make it," she said softly. "No matter what Franco throws at us, we'll make it."
Luca nodded, though a part of him wasn't so sure. The road ahead was long, and Franco was still out there—waiting.