Milan — Early morning
Giulio Moretti's building loomed ahead: an old, solid structure with tall windows like tired, watching eyes.
Vera quickened her pace. Her soaked shoes slapped against the stone pavement like war drums.
The main entrance was just meters away when she heard it:
"There! Get her!"
The shout tore through the air like a gunshot.
Vera didn't look back.
She didn't need to.
She ran.
Footsteps thundered behind her, echoing against the crumbling walls.
The dossier burned against her chest.
Every meter stretched into an eternity.
One of the men — fast, heavy — almost reached her.
At the last second, Vera veered sharply, darting toward the building's side.
There — a rusted service door, half-forgotten.
Without thinking, without hesitating, Vera hurled her body against it.
The door groaned, resisted — and finally gave way.
She stumbled inside.
The door slammed shut behind her with a deafening clang.
Inside, empty hallways stretched out like veins in a sleeping beast.
She knew Moretti's office was on the third floor.
She also knew her pursuers would find another way in soon.
This wasn't a race anymore.
It was a war of resistance.
She clutched the dossier tighter, took a deep breath — and began climbing the stairs.
Each step was a battle.
Each heartbeat, a drum of war.
The last door to freedom was just ahead.
And Vera knew: she couldn't stop now.
---
If you believe Vera's strength can carry her to victory, drop a Power Stone — every heartbeat brings her closer to justice!