The Final Stand

I woke up to darkness.

It wasn't the usual darkness I was accustomed to, the kind of quiet, peaceful blackness that came with sleep. No, this felt different. Heavy. Pressing. I could feel the weight of it, suffocating, and I struggled to move.

A sharp pain shot through my side, and I gasped, my body reacting to the wound that still throbbed, but it was dulled now—almost numb.

"Elizabeth?"

Dante's voice, low and strained, broke through the fog in my mind, bringing me back to reality. I tried to focus on him, the sound of his voice grounding me. His presence was a comfort, despite the chaos that still surrounded us.

I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dull light that filtered through the small window nearby. The room was small, and the walls were bare, except for the faint outline of an old painting in the corner. The air smelled sterile, too clean—like a hospital.

But no. This wasn't a hospital.

I was in a safe house.

I swallowed hard, trying to sit up, but Dante was there instantly, his hand on my shoulder, steadying me. "Stay down," he insisted, his face etched with worry. His jaw was tight, his usual calm demeanor replaced with something raw, something desperate. "You're not well. You need to rest."

"Dante…" I whispered, struggling to stay conscious. "Viktor… we have to—"

"Shh." He pressed a finger to my lips, silencing me gently. "Viktor isn't the problem right now. You are. You're in no condition to fight him. I won't let you go out there until you're healed."

I wanted to argue, to tell him that we couldn't afford to wait. But the truth was, I was exhausted. Physically, and emotionally. The weight of everything that had happened was catching up to me, and I didn't know if I had the strength left to keep fighting.

"I'm sorry," I whispered instead, my voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to drag you into this."

His hand tightened on mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles with a gentleness that didn't match the situation at all. "Don't apologize, Elizabeth. I chose to be here. To be with you. And I'm not going anywhere. We'll handle Viktor. But first, you need to rest."

I closed my eyes, allowing myself just a moment of peace. He was right. As much as I wanted to go out and finish this—finish Viktor—I couldn't. Not yet.

But the darkness inside me didn't care. It wanted revenge. It wanted closure. It wanted blood.

---

Hours passed, but it felt like days. I drifted in and out of sleep, and every time I woke, Dante was there, sitting beside me, never leaving my side. He hadn't even gone to check on the situation outside. He knew the danger, but he still stayed with me.

Eventually, when I was strong enough to sit up without feeling like the room was spinning, Dante stood up and paced the room, his movements tight.

"We need a plan," he said, his voice low. "Viktor is still out there, and we can't let him regroup. I'm not letting him get away with this." His eyes locked with mine. "I'll make sure of it."

I felt a surge of determination rise within me, pushing through the fog of pain and exhaustion. "We're not running anymore," I said, my voice stronger than I expected. "We fight. Together."

Dante turned to me, his eyes softening for a moment. "Elizabeth, you've been through enough. You need—"

"No," I cut him off, my gaze steady. "I'm not letting him destroy everything we've fought for. We're finishing this, Dante. We take him down now, or we don't take him down at all."

Dante studied me for a long moment, and I could see the battle raging in his mind. He wanted to protect me. But he also knew that I wasn't someone who could be protected in the traditional sense.

Finally, he nodded, though reluctantly. "Fine. But we do this my way. You stay back while I lead the charge. We end this today."

I shook my head. "I'm not staying behind. I'll fight at your side."

Dante sighed, his hand running through his hair in frustration. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

"You're not the first to tell me." A small, tired smile tugged at my lips.

But then, as quickly as the moment of levity passed, the gravity of the situation returned. We both knew what had to be done. And we knew the cost.

Viktor had to die.

The final battle was coming.

And neither of us was backing down.