Amelia clenched her jaw, feeling the ache in her wounded arm as she pressed herself into the shadows beneath the overhanging roof of a nearby building. Her breath came in slow, steady pulls, each one tempered with the sharp sting that radiated from the gash along her upper arm. She could still feel the warm blood seeping into the fabric of the makeshift bandage that Ezio had tied earlier, and she knew climbing the tower would only tear it open again.
"Go on, Ezio," she murmured, glancing up at the looming silhouette of the prison tower. The structure cut a jagged line against the twilight sky, its dark stone reflecting the flicker of torches from the streets below. "Take care of Francesco. I'll keep watch from down here."
Ezio turned to look at her, the lines of concern still etched into his face. He hesitated for a moment, as if he might argue, but Amelia waved him off, a determined set to her jaw. "Go! I can handle myself."
He nodded, a grim resolve settling over his features. With a final glance, he sprinted toward the northeastern corner of the tower, vaulting over a low wall and pulling himself up the rough stone. Amelia watched him go, her heart tightening in her chest as he scaled the building with the practiced ease of a predator stalking its prey.
She slipped deeper into the shadows, pressing herself against the cool stone as a pair of guards passed nearby, their boots crunching against the gravel-strewn street. They didn't notice her—just another shadow in the fading light—but she held her breath until their footsteps faded into the distance. When they were gone, she crept closer to the tower's base, staying low and hidden behind a cluster of barrels and crates.
The square around the Palazzo della Signoria had become a cauldron of unrest. A mob of citizens gathered outside, their faces twisted with anger as they chanted, "Liberata! Liberata!" Their voices rose and fell like a wave, crashing against the ancient stone of the city's walls. At the head of the crowd sat Jacopo de' Pazzi on horseback, his silhouette framed by the glow of torches held aloft by the mob. His expression was one of grim satisfaction, a twisted smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he surveyed the chaos that his conspiracy had unleashed.
Amelia felt a flicker of unease coil in her chest as she watched the scene unfold. The mob's fervor was palpable, their desperation and anger a tangible force in the air. They had been promised change, liberation from the Medici's rule, and they were ready to seize it with bloodied hands. She gritted her teeth, fighting back the helpless frustration that bubbled up inside her. They had no idea that they were being manipulated, used as tools in the Pazzi's scheme for power. And here she was, forced to stay hidden in the shadows while Ezio climbed to face one of the men responsible for all this suffering.
Her gaze lifted, following Ezio's progress up the side of the tower. He moved like a shadow, quick and fluid, his hands and feet finding purchase on the rough stone as he ascended toward the top. She couldn't help the small swell of pride that warmed her chest as she watched him, the boy she had met so long ago in Florence now transformed into a warrior. But beneath the pride, a thread of anxiety wound tighter with every step he took. She knew that Francesco would not go down easily, and she could only hope that Ezio was prepared for what lay ahead.
As she crouched in the shadows, a group of guards marched by, their expressions grim as they moved toward the mob. She ducked lower, pressing her body against the cool stone and willing herself to become part of the darkness. One of the guards paused, scanning the alley with a suspicious frown, and Amelia held her breath, her hand tightening around the hilt of her dagger. But after a tense moment, he moved on, and she exhaled slowly, the tension easing from her shoulders.
Above, she caught a glimpse of movement—Ezio pulling himself over the final ledge of the tower. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw him disappear from view, the shadows of the prison's upper level swallowing him whole. A few moments later, a figure in the distance hurled itself from the edge of the building, falling in a rapid dive toward the ground below. Ezio followed almost immediately, leaping into the darkness with the grace of a hawk in flight.
She tracked their descent with a knot of tension in her chest, the figures vanishing into the shadows beyond her line of sight. But soon, the sound of scuffling reached her ears—Ezio and Francesco, locked in a deadly chase through the narrow streets.
Amelia moved closer to the edge of the alley, staying hidden behind a cluster of barrels as she watched the battle unfold. Ezio's blade flashed in the moonlight as he pursued Francesco, his movements swift and precise. But even from a distance, she could see the wild fury in Francesco's eyes, the desperation that drove him forward. It was the look of a man who knew he was beaten but refused to go down quietly.
Ezio's pursuit was relentless, his hidden blade glinting as he closed the distance between them. When he finally caught up to Francesco, she saw the flash of steel as he struck, and Francesco crumpled to the ground with a choked cry, his hands clawing at the wound in his chest. The street fell into an eerie silence, the only sound the labored gasps of the dying man.
Amelia crept closer, keeping to the shadows as she watched Ezio crouch beside his fallen enemy. She could see the anger in his eyes, the weight of all that he had lost pressing down on him as he spoke to Francesco in a low, furious voice. She couldn't hear the words from her hiding place, but she could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands trembled with barely restrained rage.
And then, with a grim determination, Ezio rose to his feet, gripping Francesco by the collar. He dragged the dying man to the edge of the building and heaved him over, letting his body dangle in the open air for all to see. Bloodied and broken, Francesco de' Pazzi hung from the tower like a twisted effigy, his lifeless eyes staring out over the city that he had tried to control.
The mob below went silent, their chanting dying on their lips as they caught sight of the grim spectacle above. For a moment, all of Florence seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the moment sinking into the bones of the ancient city.
Amelia watched from her hidden vantage, her heart a tangle of conflicting emotions. There was a grim satisfaction in seeing Francesco brought low, in knowing that justice had been served, but it was tempered by the knowledge of what they had become to achieve it. She could see the toll that the path of vengeance had taken on Ezio, the way it had hardened his heart and sharpened his edges.
As she watched him stand alone atop the tower, the wind tugging at his cloak, she felt a pang of something deeper than anger or sorrow—something that she could not quite name. She wished she could join him in that moment, to offer some small comfort amid the darkness that surrounded them. But she remained in the shadows, her hand pressed against the wound on her arm as she listened to the silence of a city caught between fear and hope.
She waited a while before she attempted to find Ezio. He had run to the opposite side of the Palazzo and now that the chaos had calmed down she felt safe enough to stagger around to find him. Her mind was starting to fog over, as her arm hadn't quit bleeding. It didn't take her long and he took one look at her arm and ushered her along to find a place to rest for the night.
The streets were alive with the quiet hum of evening as Ezio and Amelia made their way through the village on foot. The cobblestones, worn smooth by years of foot traffic, glowed softly under the flickering lanterns that lined the narrow roads. Shops were closing for the night, wooden shutters clattering into place while the last of the market stalls packed up their goods. Amelia's steps were slower than usual, her arm aching beneath the hastily wrapped bandage. Ezio kept a watchful eye on her, his concern etched into the creases around his eyes.
As they walked, a gentle breeze swept through the alleyways, carrying with it the scent of roasting meat and freshly baked bread from a nearby tavern. The aroma made Amelia's stomach twist with hunger, reminding her that they hadn't eaten since the morning. She caught Ezio glancing her way, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he noticed the exhaustion in her expression.
"You look like you're about to keel over," he said, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine worry. "Come on, let's find a place to rest and get some food in you."
Amelia offered a tired smirk, trying to brush off his concern. "I'm fine, Ezio. But a meal wouldn't hurt."
As they turned down a quieter side street, they spotted a small apothecary with its door still ajar. Ezio gently steered her toward it, the bell above the door tinkling softly as they stepped inside. The air inside was thick with the earthy scents of dried herbs and tinctures. An elderly doctor shuffled forward, peering at them over the rims of his spectacles. The doctor's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the bloodied sleeve on Amelia's tunic. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly, gesturing for her to sit on a rickety stool by the counter. Amelia winced as he unwrapped the makeshift bandage, the sting of the alcohol making her grip the edge of the stool tightly. Ezio stood beside her, arms crossed, but his eyes never left her face, his brow furrowed with concern.
"It's a clean cut, but deep," the doctor muttered as he applied a fresh salve. "You'll need to keep it wrapped and avoid using that arm too much, or you'll risk tearing it open again."
Amelia nodded, murmuring a thanks as the doctor secured the new bandage and handed over a few small vials of herbs for the pain. Ezio paid the man, slipping a few extra coins onto the counter before guiding Amelia back outside into the cool night air.
They continued down the road until they found a modest inn at the edge of the town square. The innkeeper, a stout woman with a warm smile, greeted them and handed over a key to a room on the second floor. Amelia couldn't help the blush that crept up her cheeks as Ezio took the key, the innkeeper's knowing smile only adding to her flustered state. Their room was small but cozy, with a simple bed tucked against the wall and a window that overlooked the quiet street below. A fire crackled in the small hearth, casting a warm glow across the wooden beams and worn furniture. Amelia set down her belongings with a weary sigh, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest that came with the thought of sharing such a small space with Ezio.
"I'll go grab us some dinner," he offered, catching her gaze with a lopsided grin. "You rest that arm of yours."
She rolled her eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "I'll try not to bleed all over the place while you're gone."
When he left, Amelia sat by the fire, threading a needle with careful precision as she set to mending the tear in her sleeve. She tried to focus on the rhythm of the stitching, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the way Ezio's hand had lingered on hers earlier, the gentle touch that sent a thrill through her. She could no longer deny the feelings she had for him, feelings that had grown stronger over the years they had fought side by side. Every time he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face or offered her a smile, she felt her defenses weakening, her heart yearning for something more. But she kept those feelings hidden, afraid of what might happen if she let them show. Instead, she cherished these small moments, letting them fill the quiet spaces between battles and missions.
Ezio returned not long after, carrying two bowls of steaming stew that filled the room with the rich scent of herbs and roasted vegetables. He set the bowls down on the small table before turning to her, his expression softening as he caught sight of her stitching.
"How's the arm?" he asked, crouching beside her to inspect the fresh bandage.
She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, though the warmth of his closeness made her heart race. "I'll live. I've had worse."
He gave her a knowing look, one that made her feel as though he could see right through her bravado. "You don't always have to be so tough, you know."
She smiled, her voice growing softer. "And you don't always have to worry so much."
Ezio chuckled, reaching up to brush his thumb over a smudge of dirt on her cheek, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Can't help it. Someone's got to make sure you don't fall apart."
Amelia felt her breath catch in her throat, the unspoken tension between them crackling like the fire in the hearth. She leaned into his touch, savoring the moment, wishing she could freeze time right then and there. But she quickly looked away, focusing on finishing her stitches, afraid that if she met his gaze, he might see the longing in her eyes.
"Dinner's going to get cold," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
They settled at the table, the simple meal tasting better than anything they had eaten in days. As they ate, the tension slowly melted away, replaced by the easy companionship that had always come naturally to them. After a while, Ezio set down his spoon and leaned back in his chair, his gaze growing more serious.
"You know," he said, his voice thoughtful, "we've come a long way, Amelia. We're closer now than ever to making those bastards pay."
She nodded, meeting his gaze across the table. "It's not just about revenge anymore. It's about making sure no one else has to go through what we did."
Ezio's expression softened, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. "I'm not sure I could've made it this far without you."
Her heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his. "We've both kept each other going, Ezio. And we'll see this through. Together."
They sat like that for a while, hands touching across the table, the fire casting shadows that danced along the walls. Amelia knew the road ahead would be filled with danger and uncertainty, but in that quiet moment, she allowed herself to hope. She held on to the closeness between them, savoring every touch, every look, every unspoken promise that lingered between them.
And as the night deepened outside, they found a small bit of peace in each other's company, a moment of solace in a world that seemed determined to take everything from them.