Ashen Requiem

The exit from the cinema left a bitter taste.

Dante moved slowly, his face drenched in sweat.

Helena supported him as best she could, but he seemed drained.

Milo brought up the rear, arms crossed, eyes dark, quieter than ever.

Lexie had kept her head down the entire way. It looked like she was murmuring something, but no one paid it any mind.

Then they saw the smoke.

It rose from the parking, barely ten meters away—right where they had left their van.

They froze.

First one. Then two. Then dozens.

Rowen. Leading the pack, dressed in a violet suit, hands raised in mock surrender.

Behind him, a swarm of men in black suits, wielding machetes, spiked bats, katanas, even rusted tools.