Chapter 43. Safe

The city blurred past in streaks of smoke and light.

Ezio sat in the back seat, his hand still braced against the door, his gun half-raised. The smell of gunpowder and gasoline clung to the air.

Beside him, Margherita’s body slumped forward, the weight of her dress folding like spilled silk.

“Slow down,” he barked. The driver didn’t answer—only pressed harder on the gas. The tires shrieked against the wet asphalt.

Ezio looked down.

Her head had fallen against his leg, the long veil tangled around her arms and trailing to the floor. The white fabric shimmered faintly under the streetlights, ghostlike.

He reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the veil, lifting it gently away from her face.

Her eyes were closed. Her lips parted slightly, breath shallow and uneven. She looked smaller than he remembered.

He felt something twist low in his chest.

The radio crackled. Dario’s voice broke through, breathless but controlled.

“We’