Chapter 9: Armor's Channels of Cracks

The quiet that followed the last shot was stifling. Around the room, dust fell in lazy clouds that caught in the low light and distorted the jagged edges of broken glass and splintered wood. The air smelled strongly like gunpowder, mixing with the coppery tang of blood.

From the floor, Dante pushed himself, his body screaming in protest as he absorbed the scene. His troops were scattered, a few wounded but alive, eyes wide with the shock of surviving a fight that had tried every limit. Enzo was tending to Marco across the room; his shoulder was blood-stained but still whole.

"Clean?," asked Dante's words broke the uncomfortable silence, and Enzo nodded somber but determined.

"Clean," Enzo said, glancing quickly at Dante to let relief soften his battle-hardened face.

Dante focused on Elena, still pushed against the floor, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Her eyes were keen and vibrant, yet her hair was matted and her cheek cut glistened with fresh blood. The relief flowed throu