Ashes and Oaths
1135 Words
They didn’t stop running until the city disappeared behind them.
Matteo’s car, an old black coupe with stolen plates and bulletproof windows, roared down a deserted mountain road. Lena sat in the passenger seat, her eyes blank but alert. Her body hurt—her ribs, her ankle, the fresh bruise under her collarbone—but it was her heart that throbbed the loudest.
Aria was in a coma. Because of them. Because of this war.
Because Matteo hadn’t killed his brother when he had the chance.
“Say something,” she said finally.
Matteo kept his eyes on the road. “There’s nothing left to say.”
“You could say you regret it.”
“I don’t.”
Lena snapped, “She could’ve died!”
“And if I had killed Alessandro, we’d both be dead by now. You think Enzo would just shrug and let me walk away after murdering his heir?”
She folded her arms. “You think he’ll let you walk away now?”
“No,” he said. “But I won’t be walking. I’ll be marching straight to the gates of hell with a grenade in my hand.”
They didn’t speak again until the car pulled into an abandoned lumberyard on the edge of a sleepy, forgotten town. Matteo had been here once as a teenager, during a failed family negotiation that ended in blood. He always remembered the stillness of this place. The way the world seemed to hold its breath.
He helped Lena out of the car and led her to a hidden bunker beneath the main office—a reinforced shelter the Riccis had built decades ago.
It was still intact.
Inside were dusty cots, canned food, an old medical kit, and a generator that coughed to life when Matteo flipped the switch.
Lena sat on a cot and pulled off her boots. “Are we staying here?”
“For now. Just until I figure out our next move.”
“And then what?”
Matteo sat beside her, his body tense. “Then we finish it.”
---
That night, Lena couldn’t sleep.
She stared at the ceiling, counting cracks, thinking about Aria’s blood-soaked face. She could still hear the sound of the explosion, the way Matteo screamed her name, the way her own heart stilled for a moment before she knew Aria was alive.
And she kept thinking of her father.
The man who had once taught her how to tie her shoelaces. Who held her when she was sick. Who taught her to lie with a straight face.
She wondered how much of her heart still loved him.
And how much wanted him dead.
Matteo sat by the door, gun in his lap. Always guarding. Always haunted.
“You’re not sleeping either,” she whispered.
He didn’t turn. “Didn’t plan to.”
Lena pushed off the blanket and walked over, kneeling in front of him. She touched his leg gently. “You need rest.”
He looked down at her, eyes dark and tired. “So do you.”
“Then let’s stop pretending we’re at war with just them.”
Matteo blinked. “What do you mean?”
“We’re at war with ourselves,” she said. “I’m tired of it.”
He cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek. “Lena…”
“No more what-ifs. No more waiting. If we’re going to die in this, I want to die knowing I was yours. All of me. No regrets.”
Then she kissed him.
Slow and deep. No fear. No desperation. Just surrender.
They undressed each other in the flickering glow of the bunker lights. The cold metal floor, the dust in the air—none of it mattered. What mattered was skin on skin. Soul on soul. The way she clung to him, the way he said her name like a prayer. Like she was the only truth left in a world built on lies.
And afterward, lying in the dark, she whispered:
“Promise me something.”
Matteo didn’t open his eyes. “Anything.”
“When this is over—if we’re still breathing—you’ll take me somewhere quiet.”
His arm tightened around her. “You want peace?”
“I want you in a world that doesn’t try to destroy us.”
He kissed her hair. “Then I’ll burn that world into existence.”
---
The next day, Matteo contacted Aria’s allies—mercenaries, hackers, and former soldiers who owed him favors. They gathered in secret. Some were hesitant. Others were eager to finally take a shot at the Ricci empire.
Lena stood beside him like a queen at war. Calm. Calculated. Devastating.
She presented the files they stole from Alessandro’s office.
“This is your leverage,” she told them. “This is how you end them.”
But Matteo’s voice rang louder: “No more hiding. We expose them. Every politician. Every business deal. We pull the empire out by its rotten roots.”
“And if Enzo Ricci retaliates?” one of the mercs asked.
Matteo smiled, cold as winter. “Then he dies.”
---
Enzo didn’t stay silent.
That evening, an anonymous video was sent to Matteo’s phone.
Lena recognized the man in the chair instantly.
Her father.
Beaten. Bloody. Alive.
And the voice behind the camera? Alessandro.
“You’re losing pieces,” Alessandro said in the video. “Your woman’s father. Your allies. Your soul.”
Then he looked directly at the lens. “Let’s see how many more you can afford to lose before she breaks.”
The video ended.
Matteo stared at the phone, jaw clenched. Lena didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.
She just said: “We go tonight.”
---
That night, Matteo prepared weapons while Lena made calls. The rescue would be suicide. But they didn’t care anymore.
On the table between them, Matteo placed two silver rings—simple, unmarked.
Lena looked at him, confused. “What are those?”
He took her hand. “We may not make it out. But if we do… I want you to know that I chose you. Not just in this war. In everything.”
She blinked, throat tight. “Is this a proposal?”
“It’s a vow,” he said. “No church. No priest. Just you and me and whatever’s left of the world after we’re done burning it.”
She picked up one of the rings and slid it onto his finger. “Then I vow too. To fight with you. Bleed with you. Live or die with you.”
They sealed it with a kiss that felt like the last page of a book.
---
The storm was coming.
And they were ready to face it.
- Writer
