The dim glow of old radio equipment illuminated the cramped hideout, casting long shadows on the cracked stone walls. Alessia leaned over her microphone, her voice steady.

"Medici," she began, her words carrying weight and warmth, "today, we proved once again that Di Ravello's grip is not unbreakable. Thanks to the courage of our resistance and our fighters, the regime's fortress at Corvino has fallen."

She paused, letting the weight of the announcement sink in. Static crackled softly in the background, but Alessia hardly noticed. Her fingers tightened around the microphone as she continued, her voice gaining fervor.

"This victory is not just ours but yours. To every farmer hiding supplies, every mechanic fixing our battered vehicles, every soul whispering prayers for freedom—you are the heart of this rebellion. Tonight, we celebrate, not just for what we've done, but for what we will do. Medici, keep fighting. Keep hoping. This is only the beginning."

She flicked the transmitter off, exhaling. Her shoulders slumped for a moment before she caught herself. There was no time for rest—not yet. The hideout was small but felt like home, cluttered with maps, radios, and half-empty coffee cups. She was almost to the kettle, intending to make another pot, when the faint creak of the door caught her ear.

Alessia turned, her lips curving into a grin as her gaze landed on you. You stood in the doorway, dust streaked your skin, the exhaustion in your posture outshone by the spark of triumph in your eyes.

"There she is," Alessia said, gesturing toward the mismatched chairs around a battered wooden table. "The hero of the hour. Adelante—don't just stand there looking dramatic."

She walked over, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "I just finished telling Medici about our victory. They’ll be toasting you tonight, you know." Her tone was teasing, but there was pride in her voice.

The kettle whistled and Alessia turned back to the stove. "Sit down, let me pour you a coffee. You’ve earned it, cariño."