Amelia's entire body buzzed with tension as she and Ezio trailed Torri Jacopo through the narrow alleys of Florence. The late evening air carried a chill that bit through her cloak, but she barely noticed it, her focus pinned to the man below them. Each step felt like a step closer to their goal—a step closer to vengeance, but also a step closer to the ever-lurking dangers that had dogged them since they set foot on this path.
As they followed, Ezio whispered beside her, his tone laced with determination. "If I can stay my blade long enough to follow him, he'll lead me to his Templar brothers. I'll have more names for my list..."
Amelia cast a sidelong glance at him, catching the tightness in his jaw. "You say that like you're trying to convince yourself," she teased, her voice barely more than a murmur as they slinked through the shadows. "But don't worry—I'm here to keep you from doing anything foolish."
Ezio shot her a wry smile, but his expression softened for a moment, revealing a flicker of gratitude. "Just keep up, Lia. Wouldn't want you to fall behind."
She rolled her eyes, though the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. They moved as one through the city's maze-like streets, blending into the darkness that wrapped around them. But as they tracked Jacopo, a strange knot tightened in her chest—a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and something she couldn't quite name. The mission felt like a turning point, but for what, she couldn't be certain.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Jacopo slipped through the city gates, disappearing behind a wall of armed guards. Amelia cursed softly under her breath, scanning the area. They couldn't afford to lose him now.
"Over there," she whispered, nodding toward a ladder that led up the side of the gatehouse.
Together, they crept along the parapet, taking out a few guards who wandered too close, their bodies falling soundlessly into the night they finally reached the other side of the wall, Amelia's breathing was ragged, but she forced herself to keep pace. As they moved through the moonlit countryside, the cold air cut deeper, each breath sharp against the raw ache in her side. But she kept her focus on the task at hand, using the pain as a reminder of what was at stake.
They followed Jacopo to a secluded amphitheater, where he joined a shadowy group that sent a chill down her spine. Rodrigo Borgia's voice drifted through the air, each word laced with venomous disdain, and she clenched her fists so tightly that her nails bit into her palms.
She leaned closer to Ezio, whispering, "We've got to get closer, see what they're planning."
He nodded, leading them down the embankment. The ancient stones of the amphitheater were cool beneath her hands as they slipped into the shadows, pressing themselves flat against the crumbling walls. Her muscles ached from the tension, but she forced herself to focus on the conversation unfolding below.
Jacopo groveled before Rodrigo, but Borgia's voice remained cold, unyielding. "...Firenze remains in Medici hands, and your incompetence has cost us dearly."
Amelia's chest tightened with anger as she listened to Borgia's condemnation. She remembered the pain of her father's death, the hollow ache of loss that had driven her into this life. It took every ounce of willpower not to lunge forward, to strike down the men who had caused so much suffering. But then Ezio's hand squeezed her arm gently, a silent reminder that their time would come. She gritted her teeth, nodding at him, though the gesture felt like a betrayal of her burning need for retribution. As they watched, Borgia's hand moved to Jacopo's shoulder, his voice dropping low, almost comforting—before he drove a dagger into Jacopo's chest with a brutal thrust.
Amelia sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the horror coil tight in her gut. Jacopo crumpled to the ground, gasping for mercy. Barbarigo's mocking laughter rang out, sending a shiver down her spine. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and for a moment, the raw brutality of it all made her feel lightheaded.
Borgia's gaze suddenly shifted, his voice cutting through the night air like a blade. "So sorry to have claimed your prize, Assassin!" Two soldiers lunged from the shadows, seizing Ezio before either of them could react. Panic flared hot in Amelia's chest, but she forced herself to stay hidden, her mind racing for a way to help him. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't expect you to follow? That I didn't PLAN for it? We've been at this a lot longer than you! Kill him."
Her hand found the hilt of her blade, but the moment she moved a couple of guards grabbed her and dragged her forward. Rodrigo looked her dead in the eyes and grinned. He gestured to the guards and, a searing pain lanced through her side, bringing her to her knees behind the fallen column.
Ezio's voice rang out, calm but edged with fury. "I know you're only doing as you're told. So if you release me, I will spare your lives."
Amelia pressed a hand against her side, feeling the warmth of her own blood seeping through her fingers. A wave of dizziness hit her, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to give in to the darkness edging her vision. She watched, helpless, as Ezio broke free, dispatching the guards with swift, lethal movements. She tried to rise, but her legs buckled beneath her, and she barely managed to stay upright, using the column for support. Her vision blurred, and her breaths came in ragged gasps as she fought to stay conscious.
Ezio finished off the last guard and spun around, his eyes widening in alarm when he saw her slumped against the stone. He rushed to her side, his hands catching her just as she began to slide down.
"Amelia! Cazzo! We need to get you to a doctor!" he said, his voice tight with fear as he took in the blood staining her tunic.
She tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "I've had worse," she managed, though her voice wavered. The pain in her side was a sharp, burning agony, every movement sending fresh waves of nausea rolling through her.
Ezio's jaw clenched, his expression hardening. "You stubborn fool. We need to get you to Leonardo's—now."
She wanted to argue, but the truth was she could barely keep her eyes open. So she let him scoop her up into his arms, the strength of his hold anchoring her to reality as the world spun around her. She pressed her cheek against the rough fabric of his coat, drawing comfort from the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.
As they made their way back toward Florence, she focused on the rhythmic jostle of his stride, using it as a lifeline against the darkness that threatened to drag her under. By the time they reached Leonardo's workshop, she was barely conscious, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.
Leonardo's face creased with worry as he hurried them inside. "Lay her down here, Ezio. I'll take care of her."
Ezio's grip on her tightened for a moment before he gently set her on the cot. His eyes were stormy with unspoken emotion as he looked down at her, his hand brushing a blood-matted strand of hair from her face. "I'll be back, Lia. I need to meet with Lorenzo, but I promise—I'll return as soon as I can."
Amelia forced herself to nod, her voice barely a whisper. "Just don't get yourself killed while I'm not around to save you."
A small, tight smile tugged at his lips, but the worry never left his eyes. "No promises, tesoro.
She watched as he turned and disappeared into the night, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in her ears. As Leonardo began to tend to her wound, her mind went blank with pain.
"Cazzo, Leo! What are you doing digging your fingers in there?" She ground out.
Leonardo worked quickly, his normally cheerful face creased with worry as he gathered his supplies. His hands, usually so steady when working on his inventions, trembled slightly as he reached for a cloth and pressed it against her side. She hissed in pain, her back arching involuntarily.
"Amelia, try to stay still," Leonardo murmured, his voice gentle but firm. He looked down at her with eyes filled with concern, and she could see the strain etched into the lines around his mouth. "I know it hurts, but I need you to keep pressure here, sì?"
Amelia nodded weakly, biting down on her lip to keep from crying out. She tried to focus on Leonardo's voice, using it as a lifeline in the haze of pain. "Ezio—he didn't—he wasn't hurt was he?" she managed to gasp out, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Leonardo offered her a tight smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "He didn't have a scratch on him. He'll be fine. He promised to come back, remember?"
She tried to laugh at that, but the sound came out more like a pained rasp. The pressure of the cloth against her wound sent another wave of fire through her side, and she bit down harder, tasting blood. She could feel the darkness clawing at the edges of her vision, but she fought against it, refusing to let go.
Leonardo's hands moved deftly, cleaning the wound with water that he poured over the cloth. Each touch, no matter how gentle, made her flinch, and she clenched her jaw against the pain that shot through her body like lightning. He gave her a sympathetic look, his brow furrowing as he worked. "Amelia, I need to stitch this up. It will hurt, but it's the only way to stop the bleeding."
Amelia nodded, her breath catching in her throat. "Just—do it quickly, Leo," she said through gritted teeth. She tried to focus on anything else—the pattern of the wooden beams above her, the flicker of the candlelight—but all she could feel was the searing pain in her side.
Leonardo dipped a needle into a small vial of alcohol before threading it with a length of fine silk. His hands hovered for a moment, as if bracing himself, before he pressed the needle into her skin. The pain was immediate and intense, a white-hot sear that tore a cry from her lips despite her best efforts to hold it back.
"I'm sorry, Amelia," Leonardo murmured, his voice thick with guilt. "I know it's unbearable, but you must stay with me. Just a few more stitches..."
Amelia gripped the edge of the cot so tightly that her knuckles turned white, each stitch sending a fresh wave of agony through her. She felt a tear escape down her cheek, but she quickly blinked it away, determined not to let herself fall apart. "It's—it's not your fault, Leo. You're helping... You always help," she managed, her voice wavering.
Leonardo's expression softened, and he offered her a brief, reassuring smile even as he worked with precision. "I'll take that as a compliment, but I'd rather not see you in this state again. You should leave the dramatic injuries to Ezio, sì?"
She let out a weak laugh that quickly turned into a wince. "I'll... keep that in mind," she said, trying to keep the pain from her voice. But the truth was, every second was a battle just to stay conscious, to hold onto the thought of Ezio coming back through that door.
When Leonardo finally tied off the last stitch, he pressed a fresh bandage against her side, wrapping it tightly but carefully around her torso. He helped her sit up just enough to secure the bandage in place, his hand lingering on her shoulder as if afraid she might break apart. "That should hold for now. You'll need rest, Amelia. And no more fighting for at least a few days."
Amelia gave him a wry smile, though her face was pale and drawn with pain. "I'll try, but you know how well I follow orders."
Leonardo shook his head, exhaling a weary breath. "Sì, I do. But please, for once, take it easy. I don't think Ezio would forgive me if I let you hurt yourself again under my watch."
At the mention of Ezio, a shadow crossed her face, and she found herself staring at the door as if willing him to return. "He'll be alright, won't he? He—he knows what he's doing?"
Leonardo's gaze softened, and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "He'll be fine, Amelia. You know him—he's as stubborn as you are. He won't let anything stop him."
She nodded, trying to believe him, but the worry still gnawed at her, mingling with the pain that throbbed in time with her heartbeat. As she sank back against the cot, exhaustion finally began to drag her under, and she let her eyes drift shut, clinging to the sound of Leonardo's steady voice as he continued to reassure her.
Amelia's consciousness returned slowly, dragging her up through layers of darkness like a diver surfacing from the depths of a murky sea. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and for a long moment, she resisted the pull of wakefulness, hoping to slip back into the oblivion where there was no pain. But the world around her insisted on coming into focus—cold air biting at her skin, the rough, uneven surface beneath her back, and the jostling movement that sent dull, throbbing aches through her body.
She blinked her eyes open, wincing at the harsh light that met them. The first thing she noticed was the jagged peaks of mountains cutting into a gray sky, clouds swirling low and heavy above them. Her breath caught in her throat, and she struggled to push herself upright, only to be met with a fresh wave of pain from her bandaged side.
Panic clawed at her chest as she took in her surroundings. She was lying in the back of a rickety, broken-down cart, its wooden boards creaking with each bump along a rocky mountain path. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of where she was, how she had gotten here. The last thing she remembered was Leonardo's workshop, his gentle hands bandaging her wound, his voice telling her to rest. But now—
No. No, no, no.
Her breath quickened, and she clutched the edge of the cart, her fingers digging into the splintered wood. Her heart pounded in her chest, and terror coursed through her veins as a single thought seized her: Rodrigo Borgia. Had he found her? Had he taken her from Leonardo's care, dragging her away to some remote hideaway to exact his revenge? She tried to steady her breathing, but it came out in shallow, frantic gasps, her mind conjuring images of Borgia's cruel smile, his hands tightening around a blade.
Amelia's vision blurred as her panic deepened. She struggled to sit up fully, fighting against the pain in her side and the dizziness that made the world tilt around her. Her hands fumbled for a weapon, but all she found was the empty space at her hip where her hidden blade should have been. Her panic sharpened, and she bit down hard on her lip, forcing herself to focus.
"Think, Amelia, think..." she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "You can't fall apart now. Focus."
But the more she tried to steady her thoughts, the more they spiraled, each one darker than the last. She tried to peer over the edge of the cart, to see who might be driving, but her muscles felt weak and uncooperative, and all she could make out was the thick fog that rolled through the mountain pass, obscuring everything in a shroud of gray.
"Damn it," she cursed under her breath, frustration mixing with fear. She couldn't see her captors, couldn't tell if this was a trap, if she was being led to her death. She clutched at the bandages wrapped around her middle, feeling the ache of the wound beneath them, and fought against the tears that stung her eyes. She refused to let herself be that vulnerable, that helpless.
She was about to try again—try to haul herself over the side of the cart and make a break for it, no matter how dire the situation—when a familiar voice cut through the fog, a voice that made her freeze in place.
"Amelia, are you awake?" It was Leonardo, his voice tinged with both relief and concern. "Stay still—you'll hurt yourself."
Leonardo? The name echoed in her mind, and she let out a shuddering breath, her fear loosening its grip just enough for her to think more clearly. She craned her neck, finally managing to catch a glimpse of him perched at the front of the cart, his shoulders hunched against the cold wind.
Her body sagged back against the rough boards, her head hitting the wood with a dull thud. Relief washed over her like a wave, so sudden and overwhelming that she almost choked on it. Her heart continued to race, but she forced herself to take a deeper breath, letting the cold mountain air fill her lungs.
"Leo..." Her voice came out cracked and hoarse, and she coughed, wincing at the pain it sent through her side. "Where—where are we? What... what's going on?"
Leonardo glanced back over his shoulder, his expression a mix of guilt and sympathy. He urged the horse to a slow stop before climbing back into the cart beside her. His face was pale, shadows clinging to the circles under his eyes, and he looked as if he hadn't slept in days. But his gaze softened when he saw the fear still lingering in hers, and he reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"We're safe, Amelia," he said gently. "We're in the mountains north of Florence. I thought it best to put some distance between us and the city after everything that happened. And I got commissioned for an art piece in Venice, so I had to pack my cart up."
Amelia's brow furrowed, trying to piece together his words. "But... Ezio? Where is he? Did something happen to him?" Panic flared again, her mind jumping to the worst possibilities.
Leonardo shook his head quickly, squeezing her shoulder. "He's fine, Amelia. He went back to Florence—to meet with Lorenzo. He left you in my care while you recover, but he made me promise to keep you safe until he returns. I left a note with my assistant to let him know where we went."
The words took a moment to settle, and then a weight lifted from her chest, leaving her feeling weak and drained. She closed her eyes, willing the last of the panic to fade. "I thought... I thought Borgia had—" She swallowed hard, the admission making her voice waver. "I thought he had found me."
Leonardo's expression softened further, and he shifted closer, resting a hand against her uninjured arm. "No one is going to hurt you, Amelia. Not while I'm here. And Ezio will be back before you know it, I'm sure of it."
She forced a small, wavering smile, letting herself lean into Leonardo's steady presence. "Thank you, Leo," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "For everything."
He offered her a gentle smile in return, patting her arm before he turned back to the reins. "Rest now, Amelia. You've been through enough. Let me handle the road."
She nodded weakly, closing her eyes again as exhaustion claimed her. But this time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she would wake to something better.