Breath Amidst Ashes
POV: Ariella DeLuca
Pienza, Tuscany — Abandoned Safehouse, 7:42 AM
The sun had long risen, but the world outside remained grey.
Ariella sat at the edge of the creaky bed, her body curled into the cold stone wall of the old farmhouse. Her breaths came heavy, her chest tight as if iron bands were wrapped around her ribs. Each inhale felt like shards of glass scraping inside her lungs.
Her hands still carried traces of dried blood. No matter how many times she scrubbed, the scent lingered. The coppery tang clung to her skin, refusing to be erased.
She stared at her trembling fingers—slender yet calloused. These were the same hands that once played the piano alongside Giuliano, the same hands that had clung to her brothers in the garden as children.
Now, they were hands that killed.
The wind outside carried the sharp scent of rosemary and damp earth, stirring memories of her childhood in the family estate. But those memories felt distant—untouchable.
She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible, shattering the thick silence.
"He's not my brother anymore… just a shadow… a machine."
The words hung heavy in the room, echoing through the cold walls like a confession only the house itself would keep.
But no tears came.
Ariella had forgotten what it meant to cry.
Footsteps creaked against the old wooden staircase. The weight in each step told her exactly who it was.
Kael.
He appeared at the doorway, tall and broad, his figure blending into the dimness. His face remained unreadable, but his eyes—those storm-gray eyes—held something deeper. Weariness. Something carved by years of pain.
He stood there, silent, simply watching her.
Ariella's gaze stayed on the floor, her fingers clutching the frayed blanket as if it could anchor her crumbling world.
Finally, her voice broke through the thick air, brittle and hollow.
"How many more do we have to kill before this ends, Kael?"
Kael didn't answer immediately. He walked in, placing the heavy backpack down with a soft thud, then settled into the chair opposite her.
He watched her carefully, every flicker of her breath, every quiver of her fingers.
"They'll come again," he said, his voice calm yet firm, like the cold edge of a blade.
Ariella let out a bitter, humorless laugh.
"Let them come," she muttered. "I'm not afraid anymore."
But Kael saw through her lies.
Every shiver in her body betrayed her.
POV: Kael Morreti
Kael didn't look away.
He saw everything Ariella tried to hide.
The way she clenched her knees, her nails digging into her skin, the way her chest heaved—not from anger, but from barely contained panic.
He knew that feeling too well.
The crushing guilt.
The self-hatred.
The hollow emptiness that crept in after every kill.
He had been drowning in it for years.
Silently, Kael stood and pushed open the narrow window. The sharp Tuscan air swept into the room, carrying the scent of lavender and fresh earth.
He spoke without facing her, his voice low and unwavering.
"Do you know why I brought you here?" he asked.
Ariella said nothing, her eyes locked on the floor.
Kael exhaled slowly, his tone dark and steady.
"Because here, no one cares that you're a DeLuca. No one cares who your father is. No one cares who you've killed."
He turned then, meeting her tearless, hardened gaze.
"Here… you're just a human trying to survive."
The words struck deep.
For the first time, Ariella felt the weight of someone truly understanding her torment without asking for explanations.
But she also knew this peace wouldn't last.
They could never outrun their shadows forever.
POV: Rafael DeLuca
Milan — Rafael's Penthouse, 10:03 AM
High above the city of Milan, in a sleek glass-walled penthouse, Rafael lounged in a leather chair, perfectly composed.
Morning light streamed through the vast windows, casting reflections across the marble floors.
A nearly untouched espresso sat cooling in his hand.
Before him, a massive digital map of Italy illuminated the room—every city, every highway, every hidden route.
Two red dots pulsed ominously.
One in Tuscany.
One in Rome.
A faint smirk tugged at Rafael's lips, his expression cold and knowing.
"You can't outrun your own blood, Ella," he whispered.
With a single tap, a hidden command was sent.
One name flashed on the screen—Raven.
The voice on the other end was cold, sharp, emotionless.
"Target locked."
Rafael leaned back, the shadows playing across his face.
"Proceed."
This wasn't about betrayal anymore.
This was about purging every weakness in the family.
POV: Ariella DeLuca
Pienza — Abandoned Safehouse, 11:27 AM
Outside, the sky stretched wide and cloudless, but the storm inside Ariella remained.
She sat on the rickety wooden porch, watching the rolling hills of Tuscany as the midday sun painted the landscape gold.
Her hands wrapped tightly around the pistol resting in her lap—the only thing that still made sense.
Kael emerged from the house, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee.
Without a word, he set one down in front of her and took the seat beside her.
"Drink," he said flatly. "We need to stay sharp."
Ariella accepted it, staring at the dark liquid as though it were poison.
But she drank anyway.
A few sips later, she set the cup down, her voice rough and distant.
"How long can we stay hidden here?"
Kael didn't answer right away.
He gazed out at the endless hills, calculating risks, gauging the winds.
"A week. Maybe less," he admitted.
Ariella let out a bitter laugh, her lips curling in self-loathing.
"Funny," she muttered. "I ran from Salvatore for years… and now I'm running from my own brothers."
Kael didn't laugh.
Nothing about it was funny.
"Matteo will chase you to the ends of the earth," he said plainly. "But Rafael… he's more dangerous. He doesn't hunt with his hands. He uses shadows."
Ariella's grip tightened around her mug.
"You once told me Rafael wouldn't kill me," she said quietly.
Kael's gaze hardened.
"That was then," he said darkly. "Now… I'm not so sure."
Final Scene
The afternoon stretched on, and a strange stillness settled over the house.
Then it came.
A sharp flutter of wings outside.
A lone crow cawed loudly from the nearby tree, breaking the eerie quiet.
Moments later, Kael's burner phone vibrated violently on the table.
He snatched it up, his face darkening as he read the message in a single glance.
[Unknown]: // They found you. RUN.
Kael's body shifted instantly, every muscle snapping into high alert.
He shot to his feet, his movements sharp and precise.
Ariella saw his reaction, her pulse spiking in dread.
"What is it?" she asked, though deep down, she already knew.
Kael's silence said everything.
From beyond the hills, the distant growl of engines shattered the calm.
Not one engine.
Many.
They had been found.
And this time… there was nowhere left to hide.
Kael's gaze locked onto Ariella, his voice low and razor-sharp.
"Listen carefully, Ella. This time… we don't run."
Her heart thundered in her chest, but her eyes didn't waver.
She gave a single nod—steady, unflinching.
Kael's hand closed around his pistol, his jaw set with grim resolve.
"If they want a war…" he muttered, his voice cutting through the thick air.
"…then we'll give them one."
And in that single breath between calm and chaos, Ariella finally understood.
This wasn't survival anymore.
This was war.