POV: Enzo
The wind carries the smell of decay and past mistakes as it blows through the cracked windows of our temporary refuge. The city beyond is a maze of peril, and every turn points a possible dagger at our rear. I'm not able to afford a diversion. Not at this time. Not when the stakes are greater than they have ever been.
Still, the throbbing in my chest won't stop, and every look at Emilia emphasizes: I'm in too deep.
She walks silently, her every motion carefully. Covering her cut with fresh bandages, reviewing our weapons, making plans for whatever hell is next. She exudes a fierceness that I both dread in equal measure and respect. I will lose her whether I fail or if I only make one error. And it is a reality I find unacceptable.
"ENzo." Her speech helps me to straighten out my whirling ideas. She is staring at me, those usually too sensitive eyes always seeing more than I want to expose. Ask whether you are with me.
