Dante was bleeding heavily, his legs shattered again, his entire body in shock from pain and adrenaline and the loss of Isabella.
Luca was beside him, assessing the wounds, determining what injuries were critical and what could wait.
"We need to get you to a safe house," Luca said, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Medical attention. Pain management. You need to survive this."
"Isabella," Dante said, his voice hollow. "He took Isabella."
"I know," Luca said simply. "But you're alive. That has to mean something."
Dante looked at Luca, at the man who'd stayed loyal, who'd fought beside him, who'd extracted him when everyone else would have abandoned him.
"Why?" Dante asked. "Why do you stay? Why do you fight for me when you could have left?"
"Because loyalty means something," Luca said simply. "And you gave me a purpose. That's worth staying for."
Dante closed his eyes and understood, finally, what he'd lost.
Not just Isabella.
Not just his empire.
