The hotel was chaos.
Dust filled the air, thick and choking.
Dante's hands were scraped, his coat ruined, but he was moving. Moving fast.
He pulled himself free from the debris first, shaking off the heavier chunks of rubble.
His eyes scanned the room.
Nothing.
Izana was nowhere in sight.
"Where the hell are you?" Dante muttered, teeth gritted.
He ducked under a fallen beam, kicked aside a broken chair, and kept moving.
Then he heard it.
A faint groan.
Dante froze.
"Izana?"
The groan came again, weaker.
Dante's heart hit his chest.
He shoved aside a chunk of concrete, then another.
"Hold on, Izana. I've got you," he said, voice low but urgent.
Finally, under a partially collapsed section of wall, he saw him.
Izana. Barely conscious, dust covering his face, chest heaving with ragged breaths.
"Izana," Dante breathed, dropping to his knees beside him.
Izana's eyes fluttered open, unfocused.
"You…" Izana's voice was hoarse, barely audible.
"I'm here," Dante replied, voice steady but firm.
"Don't talk too much. We need to get you out."
The sight made his stomach tighten.
Bone sticking out. Arm bent at an unnatural angle. Bleeding heavily.
"You're going to be okay," Dante said.
He tore a piece of his coat, then another from a shirt under the debris.
He pressed the makeshift bandage against the wound, gritting his teeth.
"Hold still, Izana. You'll be fine," he instructed, tying it as firmly as he could.
Izana's lips parted. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. His hand twitched slightly.
"Yeah, I know you're not the type to sit still," Dante said, forcing a small smirk.
"But you're staying put now. Got it?"
Izana's eyes narrowed just slightly, a ghost of acknowledgment.
Dante ripped off his coat. Made a sling, looping it carefully under Izana's arm.
"There. That'll hold you," he said. "No funny business."
Izana exhaled sharply. He was pale, trembling slightly, but he gave a single nod.
"Good. Now, we move," Dante muttered, helping him to a sitting position.
Izana shifted, wincing at the pain, but he stood with Dante supporting him.
"Can you walk?" Dante asked, hand at Izana's waist.
Izana nodded again.
"Then we go."
Dante gripp his gun tightly. He glanced toward the hallway. Voices. Footsteps. Men—two of them—coming from the meeting earlier.
"Stay close," Dante murmured.
"We're not alone."
Izana didn't answer. He simply leaned slightly on Dante as they moved forward.
The first man rounded the corner, eyes widening at the sight of them.
Dante fired once, just enough to stop him, and the man dropped.
The second tried to reach them, and Dante fired again.
They were fast. Precise. But careful.
Dante guided Izana through the debris-strewn hallway, alert to every sound.
"Almost there," Dante whispered.
Izana's breaths came shallow, labored.
"Keep your head down. Just a little further," Dante urged, guiding him to the exit stairwell.
They emerged into the street. Broken glass crunched beneath their feet.
"Move!" Dante hissed, ducking low.
Izana stumbled slightly, but Dante held him firmly.
They ran toward the alley where the car was parked, abandoned for safety.
Once there, Dante eased Izana down behind a dumpster, keeping his gun up.
"Are you okay?" Dante asked, voice low.
"I'm… alive," Izana said, grimacing.
"Alive isn't enough. We're not out yet," Dante muttered. He scanned the street.
"Do you have your phone?"
Izana nodded, but his hand shook.
Dante pulled out his own, checking it quickly. Some cracks, but functional.
"Good," he muttered. Then he crouched beside Izana.
"You're getting back on the jet. That's our priority."
Izana's lips parted. "I… can't…"
"Yes, you can," Dante snapped gently.
"I've got you. You walk, I carry half your weight. We move, we survive. Understood?"
Izana's eyes met his. Steely. Determined.
"Understood."
Dante wrapped an arm around Izana's waist, holding him steady.
They moved, step by step, carefully through the alley. Broken signs, debris, dust everywhere.
"Almost there," Dante kept whispering. "Almost…"
Finally, they reached the car. Dante helped Izana in, eased him into the seat, arm still supporting him.
"Seatbelt," Dante said, strapping him in.
"Jet," Izana whispered.
"Yes," Dante said, starting the engine.
"We're going. Hold on."
The streets were mostly empty. Sirens sounded faintly in the distance, but no one got close.
"Where's Izana?" a voice called from behind a corner.
Dante's eyes narrowed. Two men, armed, closing in.
"Not today," he muttered.
Fired two precise shots. Both went down immediately.
"Move!" Dante shouted, stepping on the accelerator.
The private jet was only minutes away. The runway was still mostly clear.
Dante kept checking the mirrors, eyes sharp.
"Izana… you're going to be fine," he said.
"We just need to get you on that jet. Nothing else matters right now."
Izana exhaled, eyes half-lidded.
"Thanks… Dante."
"No thanks," Dante said firmly. "Just get on the jet in one piece."
The car pulled up to the jet. Dante jumped out, opening the door for Izana.
"Careful," he muttered. "One step at a time."
Izana leaned slightly, pain sharp, but he managed.
"Jet," he said again.
"Yes, boss," Dante replied. "Let's get you home."
Inside the jet, Dante helped him to a seat, checked the sling, double-checked the bleeding.
"I'm going to call Elias," Dante said.
"And you're going to let me do all the talking until we're safe."
Izana nodded, expression still controlled, voice hoarse.
"I… know," he said.
Dante pulled out the slightly cracked phone. Dialed quickly.
"Elias, it's Dante," he said.
"Yes… everything's fine now. Izana is injured but alive. We're getting him back."
He glanced at Izana.
"You're alive. That's what matters."
Izana closed his eyes briefly. The weight of everything pressed down, but there was relief. Not fear. Relief.
Dante kept his hand on his shoulder, steady, unwavering.
"Now," Dante muttered, checking the instruments, "we get back. Fast. Safe. Quiet. No distractions."
Izana's hand tightened slightly on the armrest.
"I know," he said.
The jet engines roared.
They lifted off.
Izana leaned back, finally letting himself breathe, as Dante stayed alert.
Outside, the city continued unaware of what had just happened.
Inside, it was quiet, tense—but controlled.
Dante glanced at him once.
"You're going to be fine," he said again.
Izana's eyes softened, just slightly.
"I know," he said.
And for the first time since the explosion, he let himself rest—if only a little.