Dante stared at Helios, who lay completely motionless in his arms. In a hurried reflex, he checked for breathing. Shallow, but he could hear it. Good. Better than no breathing, that was for sure. But the fact that Helios was unconscious was anything but good. He wished that the sarcastic, easygoing young researcher would open his bright green eyes and annoy him with something.
But Helios remained still.
Helios' body was covered in blood. Incalculable amounts of blood. Dante tried not to waste any time and immediately began searching for the entry wound of the bullet that had struck Helios. Every moment was crucial. Without hesitation, he felt along his charge's body. He couldn't say exactly how much of the blood was Helios' and how much was his own. But at that moment, it didn't matter. What counted was that Helios was still alive—and that he stayed that way.
Dante felt the pain from his own injuries gradually subside, though it was still hard for him to breathe properly. Fortunately, the bullet had passed through; otherwise, he would still be dealing with a lodged bullet. He hated that uncomfortable, tingling sensation when the edges of the wound slowly began to close. But his thoughts had to shift away from his own pain. It was more important to find Helios' gunshot wound.
He finally found the entry wound on Helios' left side. He almost sighed in relief when he discovered an exit wound. The bullet was out—at least that was a small comfort. That meant Helios wouldn't have to worry about lead poisoning, at least. Still, the bleeding needed to be stopped urgently. Dante knew that in the car, there was a bag with the medications that Helios had developed. But he had to get him there first. And that was going to be anything but easy.
Dante looked around, hoping to find something he could use to apply pressure to the wound. His jacket was too large and too loose—it wouldn't apply enough pressure, considering how much slimmer Helios was compared to him.
At that moment, he realized where they were. The sound of the music had abruptly stopped, and around them stood the guests, who were overwhelmed by shock and amazement, staring down at Helios. Some stared with horrified looks, others were simply silent, unable to react. All in all, it felt like being at the center of a massive disaster.
"I need a scarf or a long cloth!" Dante shouted loudly enough to startle the curious onlookers. His call echoed through the room, and the attendees began to stir. The guards who had been monitoring the event quickly began to lock the doors. After all, they had come from outside, and no one wanted the invisible threat from outside to come in.
Dante briefly glanced at the crowd, but he knew that the sight of Evangeline Eckhardt no longer mattered. She lay dead on the floor, the bullet in her forehead an unmistakable testament to her condition. She was now irrelevant. It was all about Helios now.
"Here, take mine," came a calm but determined voice. Dante didn't look up as a scarf was handed to him, but he accepted it without hesitation. It was Penelope, Helios' childhood friend, who stood quietly beside him.
"Thank you," Dante murmured briefly, quickly wrapping the scarf around Helios' waist. With all his strength, he pulled the cloth tight to apply pressure to the wound.
But then the unexpected happened. Helios let out a raspy scream and opened his eyes, only to immediately squeeze them shut again in pain. Trembling, his hand reached out to grip Dante's forearm. The grasp was weak, almost barely noticeable, but it was enough. He was awake. That was all that mattered.
"Helios!" Dante shouted desperately. "You have to stay awake, do you understand?!"
Helios' eyelids fluttered like the wings of an injured bird, but the young man seemed unable to steady himself.
"Please, stay with me, Heli... you can't give up," Penelope pleaded, her voice trembling.
A cold shiver ran down Dante's spine. It was a race against time. Helios would die if he didn't act immediately. And that couldn't happen.
Helios' eyes closed again, and he groaned softly in pain as his head fell weakly to the side. His consciousness seemed to be slipping away again.
"Heli!" Penelope cried desperately.
"Keep him awake!" Dante shouted. The pressure on him was nearly unbearable.
A loud gunshot rang out, and glass shattered immediately. The deafening sound echoed through the room, and hell broke loose. The guests went into blind panic, screams filled the air, furniture was overturned, and people were running around aimlessly, chaotic and disoriented. Some of the waiters and staff were desperately trying to manage the mess, but their efforts seemed completely useless.
Orders were shouted in all directions, but no one seemed to know how to escape this nightmare. The people around him were completely overwhelmed by the situation.
Another shot. Dante heard the jarring sound of a body hitting the ground.
"We need to get out of here!" he shouted to Penelope, his voice almost frantic. He needed a solution, and he needed it fast.
Penelope, who had done everything up until that moment to keep Helios awake, nodded determinedly. Her eyes sparkled with resolve. To his surprise, Helios' eyes were open. He looked as though he might lose consciousness any second, but the look in his eyes showed that he hadn't completely fallen into the darkness. He seemed to be fighting.
Dante leaned over him, forcing him to look at him. "I have to get you to the car, do you understand?!" he shouted at him, his voice cutting through the overwhelming panic.
Helios nodded weakly, barely more than a sign of movement. "…not deaf…" he whispered into the deafening noise. The words were barely audible.
A new shot thundered through the room. Another guest fell to the ground, further away from Dante. The shooter seemed to have everything in his sights. Helios was not the only target. This realization sent an icy shiver down Dante's spine. Random shots were harder to predict.
"Dammit!" Dante cursed as he lifted Helios. The young man was weak, his limbs limp, and he made no attempt to resist, though he must have been in excruciating pain.
"Come on, Dante! I'll show you the way!" Penelope called out, her gaze resolute as she ripped her skirt up to her thigh and removed her shoes. In her hands, the high heels became weapons, ready to strike any attacker. Her expression was fierce, and the determined spark in her eyes showed she wouldn't hold back.
Dante nodded at her. Then, without saying another word, she ran ahead, her black hair trailing behind her like a shadow.
Dante held Helios tight against him, as tight as he could, and followed Penelope, who moved like a swirling storm through the crowd. Shots rang out nearby, and the ground trembled with every loud crack. The panic of the bystanders was palpable, and Dante could hear the sound of bodies falling in the background. The shooter was unnervingly precise, and it seemed like pure luck that Helios hadn't taken a fatal headshot.
"Are you still with me?" Dante called, more to himself than to Helios, but also hoping for a response.
But he got no answer. That wasn't good. Helios' condition was deteriorating, and the risk of him falling into a coma or going into shock was ever-present. Dante felt the weight of the young man in his arms, and it pained him to know how helpless he was.
At the main entrance, there was a wall of people. The crowd was so thick that there was no way through. People were shoving each other, screaming, and pushing toward the exit. Everyone wanted to escape and simultaneously be the first to make it out. It was like a scene Dante knew all too well: the loss of rational thought, the panic-driven herd mentality. And it was terrifying to see how even the seemingly strongest and smartest people were reduced to blind, frightened animals.
He didn't want to know how many would die under the pressure of the incoming crowd, or how many had already died.
The main exit was not an option. It was clear that they would never get through the masses unscathed, especially not with Helios in his arms. The thought that, in this time where every second counted, he couldn't administer any first aid tormented him. If only he had taken the blood stopper Helios had recently given him, at least he could have done something.
A soft curse escaped his lips.
He called the layout of the opera house to mind. The plan that he and the other guards had memorized before the event was now his only valuable knowledge. The balcony was out of the question, and the main exit was definitely not an option. That left only the back routes. The kitchen was probably his best bet.
Penelope, who had been walking a little ahead, suddenly stopped. She looked around quickly and then took the path to the left. With quick, determined steps, she ran toward a waiter who was standing behind the crowd trying to force its way out of the building.
"Where is the servant's entrance?!" Penelope asked urgently, her voice serious but by no means loud. She wanted to make sure no one overheard their plan, that no one knew where they were going.
The waiter stared at her for a moment, momentarily dumbfounded. Then he quickly glanced at Dante and at Helios, who hung limply in his arms. His eyes widened, but he said nothing. Instead, he nodded almost imperceptibly and pointed behind him. "Follow me," he said softly and began to move. They followed him as inconspicuously as possible. The waiter moved gracefully, almost silently, as though he wasn't fully aware of the situation around him.
Soon, they found themselves in a less lavish part of the building. The corridor was worn, the floor no longer shiny, and the walls were yellowed. The lights here weren't as bright as in the main hall, and the smell of grease and fried food wafting from near the kitchen mixed uncomfortably with the scent of blood that clung to both Helios and Dante. It was a terrible combination, but he had smelled much worse in the past. Still, he was relieved that the sounds of panic and chaos from the main hall had become a distant, muffled noise.
Helios' breathing was shallow and irregular, his head resting against Dante's chest, his eyes still closed. Dante could feel the young man shivering in his arms. He hadn't tried to keep him awake anymore—there simply hadn't been time for that.
Dante kept his gaze fixed on the waiter, who moved almost gracefully through the corridor. Something about his posture didn't seem right. His movements were so smooth, so quiet, as if he wasn't even fully aware of the gravity of the situation. Dante couldn't help it—a bad feeling started to spread through him. The waiter was too calm, too calm for the circumstances.
Without even realizing it, Dante had already drawn his gun from under his jacket and unlatched the safety. The tension in the air was palpable. Every step they took deeper into this unknown corridor seemed to increase the sense of danger.
They passed by the kitchen.
Penelope was ahead of him, still close to the waiter. She seemed completely focused on the path in front of her.
"Does this path really lead outside?" Dante asked, his voice tinged with the tension in the air.
The waiter nodded calmly and continued walking without hesitation. "It's not far now."
His voice was so calm, almost soothing. It almost sounded as though he didn't fully comprehend the situation at all. He spoke with a calmness that didn't seem to fit the moment. What was wrong with this man? Why was he so calm while the world around him was sinking into chaos?
He was acting differently. Too differently.
Dante couldn't shake the thought. What if this waiter knew more than he was letting on? What if he was one of the assassins? It was a thought that sent a cold shiver down his spine. He had no evidence, but the likelihood that the waiter was part of the whole horror grew with every step they took.
Dante couldn't be sure. He only had the clues that were unfolding in front of him. It was entirely possible that he was reading too much into it, but the years he'd spent learning to see through fine masks and recognizing the true nature of people left him with no other choice but to suspect this waiter. And even if he was wrong, he had seen enough in his life to know that something was off about this man. The waiter was far too calm amidst this chaos, as if he had everything under control—and that was dangerous.
With Helios in his arms, Dante couldn't fight properly. A fight would only harm Helios further. And while Penelope appeared, at first glance, as if she could tear anyone's throat out at any moment, Dante doubted she had real combat experience. She seemed determined, but the severity of the situation would likely overwhelm her if it came to that.
If they all wanted to get out of here alive, he had to act—and now, before someone else did. The situation was too dangerous to wait. Dante adjusted Helios in his arms so that he could still hold him tightly but also shoot with one hand. The shot was a risk, but it was the only option he had. He raised his arm, took a deep breath, and silently prayed that his decision was the right one. Then he fired.
The shot echoed through the corridor, and the waiter collapsed lifelessly. Penelope jumped in shock, stepping to the side as the man fell to the ground. Her expression was one of surprise, her eyes wide, and she cursed loudly. "What the...!"
"I think he was one of the attackers," Dante explained calmly. "Come on, we need to keep moving."
But Penelope, without hesitation, knelt next to the dead waiter and began patting down his pockets. Her movements were quick and precise, but her nervousness was obvious. She paused briefly, then pulled a combat knife from his jacket.
"I think you're right," she confirmed. "Good thing you shot him. And thanks to you I might live another day."
With trembling hands, she gripped the knife tightly and looked around. Her eyes were serious, but she couldn't quite hide the tension in her posture. Then, she looked back at Dante, her determination palpable.
"Penelope, we should get to the kitchen and head outside. There's a direct exit to the trash bins," Dante said as he turned to retrace their steps back toward the kitchen.
"Didn't we just pass that?" she asked, her voice a little stressed.
"Yes," Dante answered, "Luckily, it's just a short distance."
Penelope glanced at Helios, who was hanging limply in Dante's arms. Her expression was full of concern as she studied his pale features. "Is...?" Her voice broke for a moment. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. "Is he... dead?"
Dante shook his head. "No, but we still need to hurry. If we're going to help him, we have to move faster."
Penelope sniffed and wiped the tears from her face with determination. She stepped over to Helios and gently stroked his cheek before resting her forehead against his. "Don't you dare die on me, you little bastard," she whispered in a broken voice. It was barely audible, but the emotion in her words was unmistakable. She then looked at Dante with renewed determination. "Let's go."
Dante nodded and took the lead. They had no time to waste. It was crucial now that they didn't wait any longer. Especially after he had fired the shot, it was only a matter of time before someone discovered their position. They had to move quickly and quietly, and Dante was certain that the only path they had left was the one they were currently on.
"Stay behind me," Dante said as he started moving.
"Okay," Penelope responded softly, her footsteps following his.
They moved as quickly as they could, with Dante keeping a sharp eye on everything around them. He was prepared for anything—whether someone from the main hall would appear, whether a door would suddenly open, or if more staff members turned out to be killers: his job came first, and his main task right now was getting the young man in his arms out of here.
He needed the job, and maybe he needed Helios too. Either way, he didn't want him to die. He had promised Davis after all. His insides seemed to knot up. How would Davis react? He had promised to do everything in his power to protect Helios. He had sworn to use his own body as a shield to ensure Helios came to no harm.
But here they were now. The gunshot wound in his chest was nothing more than a faint throb, and Helios, bleeding and unconscious in his arms, lay uncertain whether he would survive this. What if it was too late?
But here they were now. The gunshot wound in his chest was nothing more than a faint throb by now, and Helios, bleeding and unconscious in his arms, lay uncertain whether he would survive this.
Shit, Davis would kill him if Vale didn't do it first.
The kitchen was right ahead of them. A place of safety, if you could call it that. But before they could enter, something flashed through the air, and a knife struck his left shoulder with a sharp jerk. A stabbing pain shot through him, and he sucked in a sharp breath. The pain was overwhelming, but he couldn't let it stop him. With a jolt, he felt the arm holding Helios grow heavier. Two men appeared at the end of the hallway, their silhouettes unmistakable in the dim light of the kitchen.
"Quick, to the kitchen!" he shouted to Penelope, his voice sharp with tension.
Penelope darted into the kitchen with a movement that bordered on instinct. She knocked something over, maybe a chair or a cup, but Dante didn't care. The pain in his shoulder was almost numbing, but he tried to ignore it as best he could. He hurried after her and kicked the door open, pressing Helios tightly against his chest.
"Hold it shut, I've got something here to barricade it!" Penelope shouted as something crashed to the floor. Dante pressed his back to the door, putting all his strength into the weight of the wood as he tried to keep the attacking men out.
Penelope had already found a folding chair, a broom, and a mop. She began positioning the objects in such a way that anyone trying to open the door would inevitably trip. Her resourcefulness surprised him—she knew exactly what to do.
He had to admit it—this young woman really had something up her sleeve.
He couldn't help but develop a sense of respect for her. It was more than just her will to survive. It was her ability to think calmly and strategically in such chaos. If he imagined Evangeline instead of Penelope by his side—they either would have never gotten this far, or at least one of them would have died along the way. There was no room for weakness or mistakes.
The men at the door rattled the handle, trying to break in. Dante pressed harder against the door, his muscles burning, but he couldn't give up. The enemies had to stay outside. Penelope had skillfully wedged the folding chair under the door handle and positioned the broom at the perfect angle. The mop was the final step in her plan. It was simple but effective—anyone who tried to storm the door would trip and lose time.
"Okay, that should do it," Dante muttered.
They quickly made their way to the back exit of the kitchen. On their way there, Penelope threw everything she could find on the floor, even smashing some bottles of oil. The bottles shattered with a loud crash, the echo of chaos reverberating through the kitchen. Dante couldn't help but grin.
"You're really clever," he said, watching her navigate through the chaos with a touch of grace.
"Pah, no big deal!" she snorted, satisfied. "Hopefully, they break their necks trying to follow us!"
She hurried to the door and prepared to open it. It was the final hurdle. Just this door stood between them and freedom. Behind it lay open ground.
Damn!
Would they dare to monitor the side exit? Did they have enough people? The thought gnawed at him. He couldn't know how many of their opponents were still in the building or how they had split up. He had no damn idea how many snipers might be prepared to target them, or how many close combat fighters were lurking nearby. Did they have many ranged fighters capable of precise shots from a distance?
The uncertainty pressed against his chest.
"Wait!" Dante shouted. Penelope immediately stopped and turned to him.
"What is it?"
"Open the door, but don't go out," Dante instructed, his eyes already scanning the corridor behind them, the tension in his muscles palpable.
Penelope nodded without saying a word. Behind them, the door was rattled violently, accompanied by loud, urgent sounds. This was the moment. She had no choice.
She did as Dante instructed. The door creaked open quietly. The air outside was still. No shots, no hurried footsteps. Nothing. A moment of calm, but also uncertainty. Dante didn't know if anyone was waiting for them or if they were just lucky. But he had no more time to waste. Their escape couldn't be delayed any longer.
He took a deep breath and stepped through the door, finally determined. He hoped Penelope followed him. He got his confirmation when Penelope slammed the door behind her, exactly as something in the kitchen crashed to the floor, a loud bang that broke the silence. He heard their pursuers scream, loud crashes in the kitchen, and Dante saw no reason to wait any longer.
"RUN!" Dante shouted, his voice booming through the stillness of the night.
Dante heard her steps pick up behind him, and the destination ahead— the cars—came closer. Suddenly, a shot rang out, and the projectile struck a tree right next to Dante.
"RUN!" he screamed again, the adrenaline coursing through his body.
"You don't need to tell me twice!" Penelope called out breathlessly as she continued running behind him.
Dante stopped, holding Helios tightly against him. The pain from the knife still embedded in his shoulder burned. Penelope ran past him. He raised his arm, the one holding the gun, and fired four quick shots behind them. Two of the men chasing them jumped to the side, and the pain of one attacker was heard in his loud scream. But Dante didn't have time to wonder if he hit them. The only thought driving him was reaching the car.
He turned around again and kept running. Penelope was already almost at the vehicles, her shoes missing. She had probably thrown them away along the way to move faster. She called something out, and then Dante saw movement ahead in the waiting cars. Penelope headed straight for the Vale family's car and yanked the door open. She climbed in and, without wasting another moment, helped Dante carry Helios inside as he arrived.
With a loud slam, Dante slammed the door shut. Shots hit the vehicle, but they bounced off. Dante vaguely remembered Helios mentioning that the cars were bulletproof. Then he heard Vale shout to the driver, "Go, go!" Fortunately, the car started moving, and they were finally on their way.
Dante slumped heavily into the seat, still supporting Helios' body. He was completely out of breath. The young man was pale and motionless in his arms, sweat glistening on his face, his breathing still shallow and irregular. The sight of him in this condition gnawed at Dante's nerves.
"Helios..." a voice spoke from across from him.
Dante looked up into Vale's shocked face, which burned into his eyes like a shadow.
Vale knelt between the seats, stretched out a trembling hand, and gently touched Helios' face. The expression on his face was one of disbelief, and it was clear that the shock had hit him hard.
"Mr. Vale..." Penelope said quietly. Her gaze was also fixed firmly on Helios, as if her thoughts were somewhere else.
Vale blinked a few times but didn't really look at her. At first, it seemed like he barely registered her presence, but when he finally looked at her, his face was marked by an unclear expression. "Penny my dear... what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
"Dante helped me escape when the chaos broke out," Penelope explained calmly, her voice slightly shaky. Her gaze never left Helios. "We wouldn't be here without him."
One of Vale's guards reached under the seat and pulled out Helios' bag. He began rummaging through it, looking for something useful. "There are bandages, compresses, disinfectant, and a... blood stopper?" The guard pulled out the small, barely used bottle.
"He finished it a week ago," Dante explained as he leaned over the makeshift pressure bandage he had applied to Helios. The cloth was completely soaked, and Dante could see it needed to be replaced. But he was reluctant to change the bandage until they were with a doctor. It would be too dangerous to move him any more.
"If we stop soon, I can have my people arrange for a doctor to come to the estate. They are following us right now." Penelope said to Vale. Her voice was now steady, though the underlying nervousness was still present.
Vale nodded slowly. "Let's do that," he answered quietly, but his voice was fragile, tinged with deep despair. Then he looked directly at Dante, who was still holding his unconscious son. Vale's gaze was cold. "You'd better have a good explanation for what happened to my son."