The meal is devoured in record time, and I rejoin Andrea and Andy, who wears a tense, strained expression. I'm surprised by the sudden change in her demeanor, and before I can ask anything, Andrea turns to me.

"May, what comes next will be another emotional trial."

As he speaks, I see Andy circling the mannequins, each with a bag over its head. I frown in complete confusion and apprehension for what's to come.

"Before anything else, you need to remember to see things for what they are and keep in mind why you're doing this. Don't lose sight of your goal; that's what matters most, not the rest. As I've told you, the training is hard, emotionally intense, and physically exhausting. Never forget that you are a survivor—that's your strength. You will be able to overcome and face every obstacle to become the woman you need to be."

Terrified by his words and the implications they carry, I watch in horror as Andy slowly removes the bags from the mannequins' heads. On each lifeless face of the mannequins is a familiar face: Ezio, Isabella, Raphael, Paola, Mario, Leone, Angie, and finally Nonna. I remain frozen at the sight of these photos, unable to speak or move. Everything collides within me—words, emotions—but confusion dominates.

Andrea clears his throat before speaking again.

"If I've prepared this exercise for you, believe me, though it may not seem like it, it's not to make you suffer. But as we've seen before, you need to be able to focus and manage your emotions. Each of these people triggers strong emotions in you. They bring back pain, unpleasant memories, anger, passion, or a sense of injustice. The exhaustive cocktail of the most explosive elements that can devastate everything in their path if not controlled. As the exercises progress, your ability to manage your emotions must surpass their intensity. You will reach your limits, surpass them, and find new ones. I know it won't be easy, but you must control yourself to achieve your goal. You don't know what lies ahead. Any ally can turn into a traitor. When the time comes for revenge, when you must shoot someone you once respected and cared for, your emotions can interfere and have serious consequences on your actions. If you let them dominate you, you could miss your chance and put yourself in danger needlessly. Once again, the fewer attachments you have, the better off you'll be. See people for what they are—pieces that will either help you move forward or stop you. In any case, you'll have to say goodbye to them at some point because if your goal is still to eradicate the Sicilian Mafia, you'll need to be impartial and see it through to the end. Otherwise, you risk failure or being killed out of revenge. You need to be aware of this and be certain that you have the strength to go all the way, no matter who stands against you. Do you understand ?"

I stay silent for a moment, absorbing each of Andrea's words and weighing their meaning. I know what I want, and I know I must prepare for all possibilities. The path ahead is long and painful, but I can't give up now, or it would all be for nothing. My survival would mean nothing, and my existence even less. This revenge has become my only motivation, my sole purpose on Earth. I can't let go now for the sake of people who will stab me in the back at the first opportunity. Andrea is right; I must keep fighting and silence my empathy to let the beast of vengeance take over. If I need to become a heartless, emotionless machine to succeed, then so be it. I owe it to Orfeo and Ezio; they were both victims, and their killer only cared about himself. If I want to reach my goal, I must be merciless.

"I'm ready to dismantle who I am to become who I need to be," I reply with determination.

Andrea hands me a gun, and I take it. I stand facing the resin silhouettes, the gun resting at my side. I study each face, some bringing back nightmarish memories, others nostalgic ones. I decide to start by aiming at the mannequins whose faces stir hatred, anger, and violence within me. I feel a knot of rage forming in my stomach, boiling my blood to the point where my body temperature must have risen a few degrees.

Focused, I startle slightly as I feel Andrea's hands on my elbows, adjusting my stance.

"Weapon, aim, exhale, and fire. The person in front of you is just a piece standing in your way. They're no longer a person; they're an armed target. It's either you or them. Don't give them the satisfaction of killing you. In this moment, let your survival instinct take over and get rid of every damn obstacle. Whether they look like an angel or a demon doesn't change their intent to kill you," he advises softly.

Spurred by his words, I feel a new strength rising within me.

Andrea steps back, leaving me alone with my ghosts. I fill my lungs with air, then focus. As I exhale, I aim at my first target and clear my mind.

Despite my efforts, faced with that face, I can't silence all my emotions. An intense heat, like a burn, runs through the scars on my back, reviving them as if they were fresh wounds.

My hair stands on end, and my skin crackles beneath my lacerations. The memories of that night flood back as if I had lived it just yesterday, and all my senses are heightened. I can still smell his musky scent filling the room, feel his rough touch on my smooth skin, hear his authoritative voice echoing in my mind, and taste the metallic tang of blood spreading in my mouth.

I inhale and exhale again, closing my eyes to concentrate even harder and push away the fury churning in my stomach. Once I open them, without thinking, just as I did with Leo, I fire a bullet that lands between Leone's eyes. A small smirk forms on my lips, finally relieved and satisfied to have hit my target. Killing him again feels more gratifying than I expected.

Caught up in the momentum, without warning, I aim and shoot directly at Angie, then Mario. Feeling only disgust and contempt for them, it's easy to stay in control.

"Nice shots, well done."

"It's nothing. Those three were easy. A desperate girl and two men I've already killed. Despite what they put me through, killing them a second time wasn't that difficult."

Andrea nods. Despite his efforts to conceal it, I can sense his tension and stiffness, just like Andy, who is utterly incapable of hiding it. She's gnawing at her nails so much that she'll soon have nothing but stubs for hands. She's fidgeting so frantically that she looks like she's having a standing epileptic seizure.

Andrea approaches her and whispers something in her ear, but whatever he says seems to displease her, as she frowns and shakes her head, hands still in her mouth.

"Andy, it's going to be okay," I try to reassure her.

"How could it possibly be okay ? You're facing people who trigger your traumas ! It's like telling me I won't be able to screw for a whole month—no, it's not going to be okay !"

I smile at her absurd comparison. She fidgets even more, as if her own words have triggered a new spike in stress. I glance at Andrea, who encourages me with his eyes.

I turn back to the mannequins, realizing that the exercise is about to become much more difficult. As before, I decide to continue with the two people I most wish to see buried six feet under. The hardest part remains calming and controlling my emotions in front of this monstrous couple.

Both of them inspire violence, hatred, fury. They bring out the worst in me and trigger a storm I can't control. My emotions are so intense that I can't clear my mind or focus. Inhale, exhale, close my eyes—it's all in vain against the tempest raging inside me. Every time my eyes land on their faces, all I want is to torture them to death, then watch them come back to life so I can torture them again. When I close my eyes, all their heinous acts flash before me, fueling the dark beast that sleeps within me.

Andrea's hands on my shoulders pull me out of my vicious cycle.

"We'll do another exercise to help you blow off some steam, and we'll come back to this one afterward, okay ?"

I nod in agreement, feeling incapable of continuing and afraid that things might spiral out of control.

I follow Andrea to a corner of the room and eagerly discover a punching bag. I'm already ready to pummel it when he stops me.

"First, put on the gloves. If you sprain something or injure yourself, it'll be a real problem for us later, so let's avoid any unnecessary injuries."

I grab the gloves he hands me and put them on before landing a powerful punch on the bag. That first blow is like a key unlocking the cage where my emotions had been trapped. Overwhelmed by their intensity, I find myself striking faster and harder, unleashing all my inner rage. With each punch, Isabella's face, then Raphael's, alternates in my mind, intensifying every move. The hatred I harbor for them is my sole driving force as I face this punching bag, which I've personified in my thoughts to help me vent my frustrations and rid myself of all my resentment.

I continue my assault, and little by little, my body loses control. I can no longer hold back, striking the bag harder and harder, so hard that my hands, wrists, and arms begin to ache. So hard that I start to scream, torn between pain and despair. Without realizing it, tears stream down my cheeks, and my jaw clenches so tightly that it hurts.

After one final, devastating punch, I collapse to my knees, arms limp at my sides, trying to stifle a sob. I stay like that for a few seconds, head bowed, catching my breath and regaining my composure. A heavy silence fills the hangar. Only the faint clinking of the punching bag's chains, slowly settling back into place, breaks the stillness.

I take a deep breath, then, as I stand, I remove my gloves. I toss them to the ground, straighten my hair, and wipe away my tears before turning to Andrea.

"We can go back now. I'm ready."