The gunshot tore through the night like a scream.
For a second, no one moved.
Then the world shattered.
Marco spun around, his heart slamming against his ribs. The echo of the bullet was still ringing when he saw her Adora standing just beyond the doorway, rain in her hair, fear in her eyes.
Luciana's gun smoked.
And between them, the impossible silence that follows destruction.
Marco's voice broke through it, rough, desperate.
"Adora."
She swayed on her feet. Her hands went to her side, crimson blooming across her fingers. For a moment, she looked down in confusion, like her body hadn't yet caught up to the pain. Then she stumbled.
"NO!"
Marco lunged forward, catching her before she hit the ground. The world blurred into noise Enzo shouting, Luciana backing away, the smell of gunpowder thick in the air.
He pressed his hand to the wound, his breath trembling.
"Stay with me. You hear me? Look at me, Adora."
Her lips parted, a shaky whisper escaping. "I… told you… you can't keep me away."
"Don't you dare talk like that." His voice cracked. "You're going to be fine."
Luciana's voice came from behind them, cool and unshaken.
"She wasn't supposed to be here, Marco. That was meant for you."
He turned his head, fury darkening every part of him. "You just signed your death warrant."
But Luciana only smiled. "You won't shoot me. Not while she's bleeding in your arms."
And she was right. Because he didn't.
He couldn't.
He pressed harder on Adora's wound, trying to stop the bleeding. She winced, her breath stuttering. "Marco… it's cold."
"Don't say that. Don't close your eyes." He looked around frantically. "Enzo! Get the car!"
But Enzo wasn't moving. He stood by the door, gun still in hand, face pale.
"Enzo!" Marco barked.
The younger man hesitated, then turned his weapon I not at Luciana, but at Marco.
Marco froze. "You?"
Enzo's voice trembled. "She promised me my brother's freedom. You would've let him rot, Marco."
"You don't know what she's done," Marco growled.
"I know what you've done," Enzo snapped. "You built an empire on blood. Maybe it's time someone else takes over."
Luciana's smirk widened. "See? Even your shadow is tired of following you."
Adora stirred weakly in his arms. "Marco…"
He looked down the color draining from her face, her blood pooling warm against his skin.
That was the last line.
Marco moved faster than breath pulling his backup gun from his waistband and firing once.
The bullet hit Enzo in the shoulder. He fell backward, shouting in pain. Before Luciana could react, Marco turned his gun on her.
Her smile vanished. "Marco Bang.
The shot echoed through the warehouse. Luciana crumpled, her eyes wide in shock, falling into the same silence she'd spent years mastering.
And then there was only rain again.
Marco dropped the gun, lifting Adora's face in his hands. "Stay with me," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please."
Her hand brushed his cheek, trembling. "You always said this world would destroy everything you touch."
"Not you," he choked. "Never you."
Her eyes fluttered. "Then prove it."
He gathered her in his arms and stood, moving toward the exit. His footsteps echoed across the blood-streaked floor. Each one felt heavier than the last.
Outside, the rain was relentless washing the blood from his skin but not from his soul.
He kicked open the car door and laid her across the seat, his breath coming in sharp bursts. "Hold on, Adora. We're almost there."
Her voice was faint. "Where?"
"Somewhere safe."
"Nowhere's safe," she murmured, eyes drifting closed. "Not with you."
He swallowed hard, his heart breaking in real time. "Then I'll make somewhere safe. Even if it's the last thing I do."
He hit the gas. The car roared through the streets, city lights flashing across her pale face. Every red light blurred. Every second felt like theft.
"Stay with me, Adora," he whispered again and again, as if saying her name could tether her to the world.
But by the time they reached the old cathedral the only place he knew no one would dare follow her breathing had gone shallow.
He carried her inside, laying her down before the altar, his bloodstained hands shaking.
Her eyes fluttered open just enough to see him. "You always run to places built for forgiveness," she whispered.
He laughed brokenly through his tears. "I'm out of forgiveness."
Her hand reached for his. "Then stay. Don't leave me again."
He squeezed her fingers, pressing his forehead to hers. "Never again."
The storm outside raged harder.
And somewhere between thunder and prayer, the weight of their choices finally found them.