"Let's go. The road will take time, and the sun is about to set."

They climb into the truck, with Andrea taking the driver's seat. I follow them on my motorcycle. After two hours, we arrive at our destination. I park, then open the truck's trunk to retrieve a pair of pliers. With a click, the gates blocking our way and protecting the crematorium creak open, echoing through the silent night. The truck starts up again and pulls to a stop in front of the entrance.

Thanks to relentless practice, I manage to pick the lock and open the doors in mere seconds. Careful in our selection, we had chosen this crematorium because it was one of the few still unequipped with alarms. For the owners, it wasn't worth investing in such a system—after all, who would want to rob a crematorium? They hadn't considered a twisted crew of mafia types borrowing an oven for a few hours.

Inside, we take care of the cameras, smashing them one by one with a bat. Once our task is complete, we remove our masks and haul the box into the playroom. Our final guest, Dr. Torrimone, joins us with a grave expression.

"You can begin," I announce, revealing Raphael's corpse inside the box as I remove the lid.

Without a word, he takes a deep breath. His teeth clench so tightly that his lips form a thin line. Slowly, shoulders slumped, he approaches, each step seemingly an effort. Near his new patient, he sets down his briefcase and opens it with a hesitant gesture. As he reaches for his tools, his fingers tremble slightly, his movements lacking the usual confidence one would expect from a forensic pathologist. Finally, with evident resignation, he performs his task.

When the unpleasant work is done, he retreats more quickly than he had arrived.

"Thank you, Doctor. You'll find your payment in the bag behind you," I say coldly.

"Thank you, ma'am. You'll have the results as soon as possible."

"Thank Callegrio instead; he's the one who led you to us. And by the way, give your accomplice in crime my regards," I add with a broad smile.

With the same tight smile, he nods before disappearing through the swinging doors.

We position Raphael for his final journey, and then Andy, Andrea, and Porcinet leave me alone with him.

"I would have preferred to say goodbye under different circumstances, knowing that each of my words would clash in your wretched head. Unfortunately, someone beat me to it—or maybe it was the disease, who knows ? Maybe the rumors are true; we'll find out soon enough. I may not have been the hand of death, but I'll be the one to deny you eternal rest. Unlike your life, your death will be tortured. The one whose honor has been trampled and thrown to the dogs. I have so much to say to you, but in the end, isn't it said that actions speak louder than words ? So hold on tight, Raphael. Your final journey will be your worst. Say hello to the little red man for me; we'll meet again in hell, you scum !"

Without wasting any more time, I slide the box containing Raphael's body into the oven, close it, and crank up the flames. Staring at the bright pupil of the fire devouring the box bit by bit, I remain unmoved, unable to feel anything. Hypnotized, I watch the flames as they hungrily attack the rotten flesh of the corpse. As the fire grows, I almost hear Raphael's screams and the cries of the souls he tortured. The frustration of not having killed him myself dissipates, vanishing along with the smoke escaping through the chimney.

I pull away from the window, considering that I've seen enough, and wait for the body to be completely consumed. After two hours, there's nothing left of Raphael, nothing but ashes—a small pile of fine gray powder.

I gather them and place them in a plastic bag, taking my time to decide where to scatter them.

After cleaning up and turning off the lights, I leave the room. Outside, I find Andy, waiting alone.

"Andrea went to roast Porcinet; I was waiting for you," she says calmly.

Proudly, I hold up the bag of ashes, and Andy immediately applauds.

"Well done, May. You've completed your first revenge!"

"None of this would have been possible without you two. We make a great trio. Thank you again for everything you've done for me and for indulging my wildest, twisted ideas."

Andy chuckles at my words.

"Oh, stop. You know you don't need to thank us for that. And as for the twisted part, you're far less twisted than us—you should see our sex life, you—"

"No, that's enough, Andy! I've heard plenty," I interrupt, embarrassed.

"Oh, come on. You're so prudish. Tell me, you haven't gone back to being a virgin from not having sex, have you ? Even a nun is less uptight than you."

I give her a grimace in response. The sound of her phone ringing interrupts, much to my relief.

"Yes... okay... yes... I'm on my way... see you soon... I love you too."

Andy hangs up and heads toward the car we parked a few days ago for our getaway.

"Porcinet's at the bottom of the ravine with the truck. Mission accomplished to the end! Congratulations again, May. See you at the hotel in a bit !"

I nod in agreement and walk toward my motorcycle. Before getting on, I put on my helmet and look at the ashes, savoring the satisfaction growing within me. More than just remains, they symbolize my rebirth and mark the beginning of my vengeful journey.

Back at the hotel, as I walk through the lobby, I feel a gaze fixed on me. I turn toward its source but see no one. Shaking off the feeling, I continue to my room. Once again, that same sensation washes over me. I spin around, but still, no one. I quicken my pace and reach my door, locking it the moment I step inside.

I remain frozen behind the wooden door for a few seconds, listening for the slightest sound. But hearing nothing out of the ordinary, I continue with my evening as if nothing had happened. A shower and some fresh clothes later, I'm already downstairs, joining Andy and Andrea at the restaurant.

"May, over here !" Andy exclaims, raising her hand so I can spot them more easily.

With a genuine smile, I head toward their table and sit down.

"Did everything go smoothly ?" I ask, a bit concerned.

"Absolutely. Everything went according to plan," Andrea reassures me.

"Perfect, you're the best. Let's order—I'm starving !" I say, glancing at the menu.

We order our meals, which arrive faster than expected.

"By the way, Andrea, I've been thinking—are you still in touch with Ezio's former men?"

"Of course, why ?"

"I'd like to gather them and talk to them, see if we can get a few, maybe even all of them, to join our cause. As great as we are as a trio, we need hands and people we can trust."

"I agree completely. After dinner, I'll contact them and set up a meeting as soon as possible. I'll keep you posted."

He pauses before adding, "Don't assume they'll follow you just because you're Ezio's widow. No matter how much respect you might command, they won't follow you if they don't believe in you. You'll need to be convincing and confident, or they won't take you seriously."

"I know. I don't have a plan yet for how to win them over, but I'll figure it out. More than anyone else, I have to prove myself and make a strong impact. If I want them to follow me without question or doubt, I need to be the most formidable person in the room, and I will be," I assert confidently.

"We don't doubt it," Andy replies, eyes full of trust.

The rest of the evening passes quietly. After Andrea leaves early to contact Ezio's men and get some rest, Andy and I take the opportunity to have a drink at the bar, sharing stories. Eventually, fatigue catches up with us, and we decide to cut our tête-à-tête short.

With my mind hazy from the alcohol, I head peacefully to my room. I swipe my card in front of the reader, opening the door, and step into the darkness. Letting out a sigh of relief, I kick off my heels.

Still in the dark, I make my way to the bathroom, turning on the light before running hot water into the tub.

I turn around, and my heart skips a beat. Sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room, illuminated by the pale moonlight, is a silhouette. The contours sharpen into a male figure.

Frozen, seconds pass before either of us makes a move. Then, in a rush, I dive to the floor, aiming for the bedside table where my gun is hidden, using the bed as cover.

I hear the man rise and move toward me. Frantically, I rummage through the drawer of the bedside table, but unsurprisingly, my gun is gone.

Damn it.