"Ezio, let me see that," She reached out and caught his arm, her touch gentle but firm, forcing him to stop. Her fingers brushed against his blood-soaked sleeve, her eyes narrowing at the wound. Ezio tried to wave her off, attempting a casual smile despite the pain tightening his jaw.
"It's nothing, Amelia. We have more pressing matters—"
"Stop being stubborn, Ezio. You won't be any good to Bartolomeo or to me if you're bleeding out," she interrupted, the edge of command in her voice brooking no argument. Without waiting for his consent, she reached into the side pouch at her waist and pulled out a roll of linen bandages. The fabric was cool and slightly damp, but it would do the job.
He sighed, the fight going out of him, and held his arm out to her. "You're as relentless as ever, I see," he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the situation. But she could hear the strain in his voice, could see the way he held himself taut against the pain. It twisted something deep in her chest.
She unwrapped a length of the bandage, her hands working quickly despite the tremor of adrenaline still buzzing through her fingers. As she bound the wound, her gaze flickered up to meet his, catching the glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. It was a fleeting moment, but it sent a warmth spreading through her, grounding her in the chaos around them.
"There," she said, tying off the bandage with a firm knot. "It won't hold forever, but it'll keep you from dripping blood all over the streets."
Ezio glanced down at her handiwork, a rueful smile curving his lips. "Grazie, Amelia," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her pulse skipped at his words. "Probably bleed to death in a gutter somewhere," she replied lightly, though there was an undercurrent of truth in her tone. "Now come on, we've got more men to free—and a madman to deal with."
He chuckled softly, the sound warm despite the rain and the blood and the danger that surrounded them. Together, they pushed onward, making their way toward the next target. Amelia kept a sharp eye on the shadows, her hand never straying far from the hilt of her dagger. The city had become a minefield of Templar influence, and she knew that even a moment's lapse in vigilance could be their undoing.
They reached a cluster of buildings, one of which was occupied by a group of Silvio's guards, their voices carrying through the rain-soaked air. Amelia signaled for Ezio to stop, crouching low as she surveyed the scene. Below, three guards stood watch outside a gate, beyond which a handful of Bartolomeo's men were imprisoned. She turned to Ezio, meeting his gaze with a determined look. "I'll take the two on the left. You handle the one by the door."
He nodded, his expression growing serious as he readied his hidden blade. "On my mark," he whispered, and she watched as the old intensity settled over him—his focus sharpening into something lethal.
Amelia moved like a shadow across the rooftop, her movements silent against the patter of rain. When Ezio gave the signal, she leapt down, landing with a catlike grace behind her targets. Her dagger flashed, and the first guard didn't even have time to cry out before she slit his throat. She spun, burying her blade in the side of the second guard, twisting sharply before letting him crumple to the ground.
Ezio was already at the gate, dispatching the third guard with brutal efficiency. He glanced over at her, giving her a quick nod of approval. She couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at her lips in response, her chest heaving with the rush of victory.
"Nice work," he said, as she joined him by the gate. She nodded and smiled at him, wiping the blood from her dagger with a flick of her wrist. Her smile faltered, something warm and unexpected unfurling in her chest as she looked at him. But before she could dwell on it, the gate swung open, and Bartolomeo's men stumbled out, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and relief.
"Grazie, grazie," one of them muttered, clapping Ezio on the shoulder. Another turned to Amelia, offering a grateful nod. "You saved our lives, signora."
She waved him off, a faint blush creeping up her neck. "Save your thanks for when we're all out of this mess," she replied, her voice gruffer than she intended. "We've still got more of you to free."
The men nodded, rallying behind Ezio and Amelia as they moved toward the next target. This time, they didn't bother with stealth, charging the next group of guards with all the force of a hurricane. Amelia threw herself into the fray, her dagger flashing in the dim light, cutting down any soldier foolish enough to stand in her way. She fought with a fierce, almost reckless energy, the weight of years of struggle driving each strike.
Ezio was a whirlwind beside her, but even he took a few hits—one guard's sword managing to slice across his side before Amelia dispatched him with a well-aimed throw of her dagger. She caught Ezio's wince and shot him a quick, concerned glance. "You're not invincible, Ezio," she chided, the worry slipping unbidden into her voice. "Try not to prove me right."
He managed a tight-lipped smile, pressing a hand to the wound. "I'll keep that in mind, amica mia."
Together, they made quick work of the guards, freeing the last of Bartolomeo's men. As the final gate swung open and the prisoners stumbled out, Amelia let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. They had done it—one more step toward turning the tide in their favor.
Bartolomeo's men rallied around them, expressions filled with fierce determination. One of them clapped Ezio on the back, his voice rough with emotion. "Let us join you. Together, we will crush the Barbarigo!"
Ezio's expression was serious, the lightheartedness that sometimes danced in his eyes gone. He studied the map Bartolomeo had spread out on the table, tracing the planned routes with his finger, committing every detail to memory. Amelia watched him with a mixture of admiration and worry, knowing the weight of this mission rested heavily on his shoulders. She could sense the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched as he considered their next steps.
Bartolomeo, ever the brash warrior, clapped a heavy hand on Ezio's shoulder, breaking the silence. "Salute Ezio! Welcome back! And well done! My host is restored to its former glory! Now Silvio will see just how grave a mistake he's made."
Amelia smirked at the warrior's enthusiasm, but she couldn't quite shake the apprehension building in her chest. She knew that for all Bartolomeo's bravado, the fight ahead would be brutal, and any mistake could cost them dearly. As she caught Ezio's gaze, she raised an eyebrow, offering him a small, wry smile. "Seems like you've made quite the impression, Ezio. Not every day a man gets a whole army handed to him."
Ezio returned the smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's hope they're up for the task, Amelia," he replied, a hint of weariness slipping into his tone. He turned his attention back to Bartolomeo. "How should we proceed? A direct assault against the Arsenale?"
Bartolomeo shook his head, his expression turning serious. "No. We'd be massacred at the gates. I have something else in mind. Take my men and plant them throughout the district. The trouble they cause will force Silvio to dispatch most of his guards."
Ezio nodded, his expression sharpening with understanding. "And with the Arsenale drained of mercenaries, I can move in for the kill."
"Esatto!" Bartolomeo thumped his chest with a broad grin. "You'll be virtually unopposed."
Amelia leaned against the edge of the table, her arms folded across her chest as she considered their plan. "Let's hope Silvio takes the bait, or we'll have a lot more blood to clean off these streets."
Bartolomeo gave her a wink. "Oh, don't worry, bella. He will."
With that, Ezio turned to the assembled men, his voice taking on a commanding tone. "Spread out and cause as much chaos as you can. We want Silvio's men running in circles by the time we reach the gates. Stay sharp and don't do anything reckless."
Amelia caught his eye and offered him a small, teasing smirk. "That last part was for you, wasn't it?"
Ezio's lips twitched into a smile, but the weight of the mission quickly settled back over him. He gestured toward the soldiers. "Amelia, stay close to me. Let's make sure these men don't get themselves killed before we even reach the first target."
She rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her voice as she replied, "Lead the way, Ezio."
They moved through the narrow streets of Venice, the soldiers following closely behind like shadows. Amelia kept her senses sharp, scanning every corner, every shadow for signs of trouble. She could feel the tension coiling tighter in her chest with each step, a familiar anxiety that always accompanied the moments before a battle.
At the first location, they spotted a small yard guarded by three soldiers. Amelia and Ezio exchanged a glance, wordlessly deciding on their approach. She reached for her dagger, feeling the cool weight settle into her palm, while Ezio's hand hovered near his hidden blade.
"Let's make this quick," she murmured, her voice low. "We don't want to draw any more attention than necessary."Ezio nodded, his gaze fixed on their targets.
As the signal came, Amelia slipped from the shadows, her movements quick and precise. She brought her dagger up, silencing the first guard with a swift strike to the throat, while Ezio dispatched the second in a blur of motion. The third guard turned, barely managing a shout before Amelia drove her blade into his chest, cutting off his cry.
The soldiers behind them murmured in appreciation, clearly impressed by their speed and precision. Amelia spared them a glance, wiping the blood from her dagger with a practiced flick. They pressed onward, guiding the soldiers through the winding alleys toward the next location. Amelia kept a watchful eye on Ezio, noting the way he moved with a familiar grace even as fatigue etched lines around his eyes. She knew the weight he carried—the burden of their mission, the constant strain of being a marked man in a city crawling with enemies. But even now, there was a comfort in the way they worked together, their movements in sync as they navigated the dangers of the city. It reminded her of why she had stayed by his side, why she had fought so fiercely during his absence.
At the second target, a larger group of guards awaited them, their swords drawn and ready. Amelia's heart pounded in her chest as she assessed the situation, her mind calculating the angles and distances. She caught Ezio's eye, offering him a determined nod before they sprang into action. The fight was brutal and close, the air filled with the clash of steel and the grunts of effort. Amelia found herself caught in a fierce duel with one of the guards, her sword and dagger flashing as she parried his strikes, slipping beneath his defenses.
She could hear Ezio fighting nearby, his breaths harsh with exertion as he fended off two guards at once. A cry of pain escaped him as one of the guards' blades found its mark, slicing across his side. Amelia's heart clenched at the sound, and she fought with renewed ferocity, dispatching her opponent with a savage twist of her blade. She turned just in time to see Ezio falter, his hand pressed to his side as blood seeped through his tunic.
"Ezio!" she called, a note of desperation in her voice as she crossed the distance between them. She quickly fought off the two guards that had assaulted him before they could inflict more damage. "Cover me!" She called, and three men quickly surrounded them as she dropped to his side, pulling bandages from her pouch and wrapping them around his wound with quick, efficient movements. "You're not allowed to get yourself killed, you hear me?"
He managed a pained chuckle, though his face was pale with pain. "I'll do my best, Amelia," he muttered, his voice rough.
She finished tying off the bandage, her hands lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. "Good."
He gave her a small, strained smile, his expression softening as their eyes met. For a moment, the battle seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in the narrow alley, bound by a history that had shaped them both. But then the sounds of the fight crashed back around them, and she helped him to his feet, her resolve hardening once more.
Together, they moved to the final location, their pace slower now, but no less determined. The last group of guards fell swiftly beneath their blades, and when the final gate swung open, Bartolomeo's men surged forward, their shouts of victory filling the air.
As they regrouped, Bartolomeo's men clapped them on the shoulders, their faces alight with gratitude. "Let us join you," one of them said, his voice ringing with determination. "Together, we will crush the Barbarigo!"
Amelia glanced at Ezio, offering him a small, tired smile. She could see the weight of the fight in his eyes, but there was also a fire there—a determination that matched her own. "We've come this far," she said quietly, her voice carrying just between the two of them. "We're not stopping now."
Ezio's smile widened, the warmth of it cutting through the weariness that lined his features. "No, Amelia," he replied, his voice as fierce as the battles they had faced. "Not until the end."