Warning! This chapter contains explicit scenes, violence which may offend your sensibility.

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To my surprise, we arrive in front of an imposing building. Given Ezio's description of it as intimate, I expected it to be hidden away in a dark, narrow alley rather than this modern building lining a boulevard in the middle of the city.

"Your turn," Ezio declares, breaking the silence as he hands me my mask, "put it on and they'll let you in. They'll quickly understand why you're here. No woman comes here except for Leone."

I look at Ezio one last time. Our visual exchange, though brief in reality, feels like it lasts an eternity. Charged with our emotions and feelings, it's one of those silent declarations that mean more than words.

Reluctantly, I break the contact and put on my mask before stepping out. I shut the car door behind me without looking back and ascend the steps with as much confidence as I can muster under the circumstances. Upon reaching the door, the bouncer lets me in, wishing me good luck, which instantly raises goosebumps on my skin.

The doors swallow me into the darkness. Nearly in complete blackness, I advance tentatively until my eyes adjust to the dimness. Guided by the muffled sound of music, I progress down this narrow corridor lit by a red light that grows brighter as I advance. After a few meters, I push through a heavy velvet curtain and find myself in a large room with soft red lighting that lends the place its intimate and mysterious ambiance.

I scan the room and spot the bar to my right, with a pole dance stage at the end where some girls are trying to catch Leone's eye. With a quick glance, I easily identify the pimp. At the sight of him, my hairs stand on end, and my pulse quickens, rekindling the panic that burns within me.

You didn't come this far to run like a child from your target. Pull yourself together and do what you have to do!

Stung into action by the little devil on my shoulder, I inhale and exhale to calm myself and contain my emotions.

Focused, I fix my gaze on my target for a few seconds, studying him. He sits, indeed reigns, on a throne that would make the greatest kings envious. Adorned with gold and covered in red velvet, it overlooks the assembly.

This throne must be a reflection of his ego.

In my high heels, I concentrate and breathe deeply. With a clear mind, almost as if detached from myself, I spring into action. Sensually, I make my way to the bar and order a Spritz. Once served, I discreetly bring it to the king of debauchery. Like a serpent on the hunt, I sinuously manage to sneak up behind his throne. Placing myself to his right behind his shoulder, I lean in close to his ear and, while handing him his drink, whisper:

"Here is your poison, Don Leone."

I withdraw as quickly as possible so he can't make out my features and discreetly return to the bar. Standing before his throne, he searches around for the promise of excitement I have become. I decide to order a Spritz for myself as well, then weave through the crowd on the dance floor and settle into a chair against the wall to the left of his throne.

He scans the room, and once he turns his head in my direction, I raise my glass to his health with a seductive smile. Without breaking eye contact, I take a sip of my drink. He makes the connection and approaches. Once face to face, I hold his gaze and suggest a dance.

As I rise, I brush against him with a suggestive caress and take his hand to lead him. Once on the dance floor, he tries to touch my hips, but I push him away, holding his gaze and shaking my head no. I hear him stifle a contained growl. I bite my lip and start to dance sensually, my body pressed against his. As I grind against him, I feel the bulge in his crotch, which reassures me for a moment, thinking the plan is working. As I turn sensuously to face him, I place a hand delicately on his neck and then lick his earlobe.

His warm cheek against mine, he murmurs in a rough, suave voice:

"Follow me."

I comply and let myself be guided off the dance floor, through a set of double doors to the left of the bar. We find ourselves in a luxurious hotel lobby. Like a shadow, I follow him up the stairs as two burly men join us.

Once we reach the landing, Leone opens the door in front of him and enters.

"You know what to do, guys." he says over his shoulder.

Without hesitation and without my permission, two pairs of wandering hands roam over my body, taking the opportunity to grope me.

"All clear, boss."

"You didn't have to grope me like that. You could show more respect !"

"No respect for whores like you."

With that, the men shove me into the room and close the door behind me.

"Bastards." I mutter, dusting myself off.

"I must say, I'm impressed. No one has intrigued me this much before."

I turn around to find Leone, unmasked, sitting on the bed, shirtless with a cigar between his fingers.

Pathetic.

Still detached from myself, devoid of any spark of life, I continue my act like a robot. Focused on my goal, I play my part accordingly.

"I must say, I'm honored to be here in front of the great Leone."

"The great Leone ? So, you know who I am."

I move seductively and kneel before him.

"Your reputation precedes you, my Don. I'm proud to serve a man of your stature, the one they call the elusive."

His lips part to reveal his teeth as he takes a puff of his cigar.

"Show me if your mouth can suck as well as it talks."

I glare at him, swallow my pride along with my saliva, and take a deep breath. He removes his pants and then his underwear. Brutally, he grabs my hair and forces my mouth onto his cock. I take it in hand and suppress a wave of disgust. I start moving my mouth up and down, hearing him groan in pleasure.

"Good girl, keep it up."

Still holding my head, he makes me pick up the pace, thrusting frantically into my throat. I close my eyes to focus and repress the urge to vomit that grips me. Without warning, he pushes me away, causing me to fall to the ground. He stands up, breathing deeply and concentrating to avoid ejaculating too soon.

Enjoy it, scum; it's your last night.

"Okay, you're a good sucker, but let's see how you handle this."

My eyes widen as I see him pull a whip out of the wardrobe. Not a small toy from a sex shop; a real horsewhip. With a brief and sharp motion, he cracks the whip in the air right next to me, the air whooshing fiercely against my cheek. Paralyzed, I suppress the overwhelming urge to flee by clinging to my objective. My heart on the verge of exploding, I silence my fear and regain control of my emotions.

" Maybe we don't have to do this now. We have all the time for that." I suggest in a suave and calm voice.

"Not at all; we have exactly 24 minutes. Come on, bitch, undress and get on the bed. I won't ask you again."

I am certainly too slow for his liking because he rushes at me, painfully grabs my arm, and pulls me up. With a sharp tug, he tears off my dress and pushes me onto the bed.

At this moment, I don't know what scares me more: the sight of the whip or his erect penis that hardens as he gets more violent. Lying on my back, he yells at me to turn over. The vision of his bloodshot eyes removes any desire for rebellion, and I comply without saying a word, my jaw clenched.

I hear him unroll the leather strap sadistically. A crack in the air, then on my back. The intense pain seizes me instantly, tearing a scream from my throat. Eyes filled with tears and hands gripping the sheets so tightly my knuckles whiten, I try to breathe through the suffering.

"Stop ! We can move on to something else." I desperately attempt.

"No, I want to see you beg me to stop your torment. To kneel before me. But first, I want to whip you some more and see the blood flow from your skin."

He resumes. I scream and contort in pain. Unmoved by my suffering—at least not humanly so—he continues to whip me again and again.

"Stop, please ! I'll do anything you want !"

He doesn't stop immediately, delivering a few more blows before ceasing.

"Come to my feet and kneel !"

My back turned into a burning inferno where even the slightest breeze fans the flames, I painfully get up. In constant agony, I struggle to reach him before collapsing to my knees in front of him.

"Good girl, now lick my feet !"

I am violently overcome by a wave of nausea, which I manage to control but, unfortunately, not hide, driving him mad. He kicks me brutally in the ribs, causing me to fall on my back and intensifying the pain.

Short of breath, I cough to regain my air as he demands again that I lick his feet.

As I comply, I think of the ticking clock. Tonight, it's him or me, and given how things are going, my chances of survival are slim.

With my tongue on his cold, rough skin, I close my eyes and focus. Ezio's words surface in my mind:

"Three critical strike zones: the eyes, the throat, and the groin."

I take a deep breath, ignore my suffering, and with all my strength, punch him in the groin. He screams in pain, collapsing to his knees, clutching his balls. Without thinking, letting my survival instinct guide me, I grab his whip and wrap it around his neck to strangle him.

"Who the fuck are you ?" he gasps weakly.

"Not a whore, you piece of shit ! Tell me, who is the mole within the Madini family ?"

I loosen my grip slightly to give him time to answer while keeping enough tension to prevent his escape.

"So you're with Ezio, huh ?"

Without answering, I tighten the whip a bit more to make him talk.

"Who is the mole ?"

"I-I don't k-know !"

"You're lying !" I exclaim, pulling harder.

"A-a masked call and a w-woman's voice."

"Then rot in hell, you bastard !"

With that, I pull with all my strength. Driven by his survival instinct, he thrashes his legs to try to get up and pounds his hands to make me let go but in vain. Each of his movements intensifies my grip around his neck, tightening it more and more.

A few seconds later, everything goes quiet. The struggling body from moments before becomes lifeless. I release my grip and check his pulse, finding none. To ensure he doesn't miraculously come back to life like in the movies, I go to the bathroom and find a pair of scissors. Kneeling beside him, I concentrate, take a deep breath, and with a swift and decisive motion, stab him in the heart. His blood flows out rapidly, forming a viscous red halo around his corpse.

Relieved, I collapse to the floor and break into sobs. I quickly gather myself, remembering that the allotted time must be nearly up. Naked in the room, I remove my mask and look around for something to wear. All I find is a robe, which I put on, screaming at the contact of the fabric on my lacerations.

Suddenly, I hear the thugs banging on the door. The handles rattle frantically, accompanied by worried shouts. Realizing the door remains locked, they pound and yell even louder.

Revived by the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I scan the room for an escape route.

A window !

With a mix of relief and urgency, I see it opens onto a pool below. At that moment, I hear the door open and bullets ricocheting off the walls. Without thinking, my body acts for me, and I jump.

The contact with the water tears a scream from my throat, stifled by the liquid around me. I resurface, glancing back at Leone's window, now empty. With a few strokes, I exit the pool, climb over the small fence, and run with the sole purpose of getting as far away as possible. At the end of the sidewalk, a familiar silhouette steps out from behind a parked car.

Ezio.

"Get in !"

I obey and collapse into the seat, wincing in pain. He closes the door, and the driver speeds off.

"What's with all this blood, May ?"

Following his widened gaze, I see the white robe stained crimson. Breathless and disoriented, it takes a moment to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.

"It's Leone's blood. And mine." I manage between breaths.

"What do you mean, yours ?"

Actions speaking louder than words, I turn and show him my back. After a few seconds, I pull the robe back on and face Ezio, whose mouth is slightly open, fists clenched, and eyes moist.

"What the hell did that son of a bitch do to you ?"

"He whipped me. I got my revenge and he died with his toy around his neck."

He hands me some dry clothes, which I gratefully take and put on.

"I know."

"How ?"

"I realized you succeeded when I heard those two goons struggling with the door. I was in the hotel lobby waiting for that signal. Once they managed to open it, I went up and shot them both in the head. With Leone dead, it didn't guarantee that his guards wouldn't continue his business; only those two remained a threat. We never leave witnesses alive. Now that they're all dead, we're safe. And well done, you managed it on your own like you wanted."

His last sentence feels like a rebuke. Stung by his remark, which cuts like a knife, I stare at Ezio with tears in my eyes. Unable to muster the strength to say anything, I turn my gaze to the passing scenery outside the window for the remainder of the ride.

Once we arrive, without a word, I rush to my bathroom to shower and cleanse myself of all the filth. Struggling to remove Ezio's sweatshirt, I finally make it under the hot water.

The water stings my wounds, eliciting a cry of pain and tears. Despite the agony, the therapeutic effect of the water makes me feel like I'm washing away every trace left by Leone. Each drop seems to cleanse his toxic touch, freeing my skin from his grip. Only after vigorously scrubbing myself several times do I feel ready to emerge.

With a towel wrapped around me, I realize I need help tending to my wounds, whether I like it or not. Not wanting to get dressed again for fear of the pain, I decide to text Ezio to come help me.

A few seconds later, there's a knock at my door.

"Can I come in ?"

— Yes, I'm in the bathroom.

I wait for him, facing the mirror. When he appears behind me, I drop the towel, exposing my bare, lacerated back to his eyes. The pain and anger in his gaze are so intense that he immediately looks away.

He places the first aid kit on the sink and gently moves my hair away from my neck.

"Can I touch you ?"

"Yes, of course, you can."

He runs his fingers over my arms, then lightly brushes the cuts on my back. His touch sends shivers through me, a mixture of pleasure and pain that makes my body tense.

"It's not your fault, you know ? You don't have to blame yourself. You warned me, and I chose to do it anyway. You're not responsible."

Tears in his eyes, Ezio bites his lips, struggling to contain his anger.

"I should never have left you alone with him. I should have intervened sooner. I should have done something !"

I turn to him and lift his head with my finger.

"Stop torturing yourself over something you couldn't control and weren't responsible for. It won't change what happened. I'll heal, and if I have scars, so be it. It means I was stronger. Let's focus on the present. The important thing is that he's dead and can never hurt anyone again. If I had to be the last one to endure this to protect others, then it was worth it. If I had to sacrifice myself for all those girls, then so be it. Don't let this eat you up inside. He got what he deserved. He suffered before dying, and was killed by a woman he saw only as a sexual object. Isn't that a fitting lesson ?"

"You're the one who suffered, yet you're comforting me. How is that possible ?" he asks, unable to meet my gaze.

"It's Nonna's legacy, I'd say. She always nurtured the wisdom within me. When my parents rejected me, she armed me to withstand hard times and see my true worth. No matter what happens, if you stand firm and rise without letting negativity consume you, you can move forward. The key is to believe in yourself, accept that suffering is part of the journey, and never give up."

"I wish I had known your grandmother better."

I lower my head, wiping away the emerging tears before looking up again.

"Stop proving your father right."

"My father ?" he asks, puzzled.

"I've become your weakness, to the point where those who hurt me still have a hold on you, even after their death. Don't give them the chance to continue living through you. They deserve to be forgotten and tortured, but that's for the little horned man down below to handle." I say, trying to make him smile.

My strategy works, and I manage to elicit that beautiful smile that makes me swoon. Tenderly, I kiss him before asking him to tend to my wounds.

"I'll be your personal nurse for the next few days, with great pleasure, madam." he announces sadly.

The next twenty minutes are painful, eliciting a few cries of agony and cold sweats. Once bandaged, I feel better. The pain, though still sharp, is tolerable thanks to the care and medication. Fatigue begins to set in.

Exhausted, I head to bed with Ezio by my side. As I close my eyes, a phrase resurfaces in my thoughts:

"A masked phone call and a woman's voice."

"By the way, I asked Leone who the mole was before I killed him." I explain to clear my head.

"And, was he useful ?"

"More or less. He said he received masked calls and it was always a woman's voice." I reveal before yawning.

"A woman's voice, you say ?"

"Does that make you think of anyone ?"

"Not really, he says, lost in thought. Get some sleep, my dear. You must be exhausted. I'll handle the rest. I don't know if this is the right time to say it, but I'm proud of you. Of the composure you showed and how you're handling all this. But if it becomes too much for you, I'm here. I'll always be here to support you."

"Thank you, Ezio."

His words echo in my head. Though I'm unsure if I'm handling all this well, I am certain of one thing: tonight has changed me. For better or worse, I don't know yet, but from now on, nothing will stop me from achieving my revenge.