This morning's training seemed simple on the surface. Blindfolded, I had to throw a mock knife at Andrea as soon as I thought I had pinpointed his location. The goal was to sharpen my hearing, heightening my attention, and enhancing my sensitivity to details. This way, I could detect my enemy without needing to turn around or even see them.

"Trust your instincts, that's the key," Andrea's voice still echoes in my mind as I drive home.

On the deserted road, I spot a vehicle parked on the shoulder in the distance. As I get closer, the shape of a police car becomes clearer. The incident with Callegrio still fresh in my mind, I glance at my speedometer and maintain my pace. As I pass the car, it doesn't take long for its blue lights to flash, and it catches up to me.

"This can't be happening !" I curse inside my helmet.

I pull over as soon as I can, and unsurprisingly, Eustasio's proud and disdainful silhouette fills my vision. Without removing my helmet, I lift the visor.

"What do you want now ? I was driving at the speed limit this time!"

"Indeed, but your rear light is broken."

"What?!" I exclaim, frowning as I turn toward the light in question.

Before I can react, he smashes it with his baton.

"Are you out of your mind ?!" I scream, yanking off my helmet.

On the verge of making his face meet the same fate as my light with my helmet, I take a deep breath, glaring at him with clenched jaws.

"You owe me a light, you bastard !"

"Careful, I could arrest you for insulting and disrespecting an officer."

"I didn't even touch you !"

"But you could have," he says, stepping closer in a threatening manner.

Still straddling my motorcycle, I scrutinize the vulture circling me, searching for his prey to savor. Baton in hand, he lets it drift dangerously close to the body of the bike. His taunting gaze doesn't reach me, as I understand his little game all too well.

The investigator in him has sized me up, knowing I'm a volcano ready to erupt.

With nothing against me this time, he's trying to push me to the breaking point, so I commit the irreparable and give him the satisfaction of slapping handcuffs on me. His one misjudgment: I have exemplary patience when it comes to winning a game. And this one, I'm determined to win, stripping him of everything.

"Callegrio, I knew you were corrupt, but not this much."

My remark makes him smile faintly.

"I told you our paths would cross again."

"Yes, you're a man of your word. But tell me, your way of playing isn't exactly fair."

"Do you even know what fair play is ?" he asks, standing before me with arms crossed.

"I'm not the one who broke the rules for personal gain."

His pupils dilate as he studies me, eyebrow raised, jaw tense. His tic calls his hand, which comes to caress his mustache before stopping abruptly when he sees my smile widening. Eyes narrowed, gaze locked on mine, he folds his hands in front of him, trying to mask the tension building inside.

"What are you implying ?"

"Do you really want to discuss this here ?"

"If there's a matter to discuss, there's no better neutral ground."

"Perhaps we should talk in your car."

Without moving, he stares me down, his gaze fixed on mine, asserting his decision to make me speak.

"Well, as you wish. It's not my career on the line, after all. A ticket for a ticket, I'll go first. Your instincts weren't wrong. I am indeed on a path of vengeance. And yes, I'm involved with the mafia."

"Okay, in the car !"

With quick strides, Callegrio locks himself in his vehicle. I follow and settle into the passenger seat.

Hand over his mouth, eyes avoiding mine, he taps his free fingers on the steering wheel. With a door slam, I chase away the tension that has found refuge in Eustasio's jittery leg.

"Don't worry; it'll be fine. Your secret is safe with me."

"You think you've got me ?"

"It's not a belief; it's a certainty."

A slight sarcastic laugh escapes his closed mouth.

"Really ?" he asks, tilting his head to the side, eyebrow raised, smirk deepening.

"I recall a certain serial murder case. The victims seemed different, but they had one thing in common. What was it again ?"

His cold stare doesn't waver.

"All undocumented, with no ties, no families to mourn them," I continue without breaking eye contact.

"So ?"

"It seems there was a prime suspect, but with no solid evidence, it was impossible to lock him up. Until one day, by some miracle, after everything had been searched countless times, a toothpick turned up in a squat of one of the victims, bearing the DNA of the suspect, perfectly matching that of the murderer. But what's even more intriguing is that the officer in charge of that investigation was you, Callegrio," I declare, fixing my gaze on him.

"That doesn't mean I planted it."

"True, but I recall that just hours before the toothpick was found, it was in the suspect's mouth during yet another interrogation. Quite the miracle, especially since he left without it, having spat it in your face."

Under the weight of suspicion turning to certainty, his armor cracks, and emotions flood in. In a moment of shared discomfort, I witness Callegrio losing control over his tears. With eyes hidden behind his hand, his body shakes with sobs.

"That case took everything from me! I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. I was so obsessed with the investigation that I lost my wife and son. They left, and now they hate me. All I wanted was to catch that scum who did nothing but mock us. I knew it was him! So, I did what needed to be done to lock him up like the dog he is!" he exclaims, pouring out his hatred.

"And now your job is your entire life, isn't it? I even believe you're considering a promotion, right? What do you think a revelation like this would do to your career?"

"You wouldn't dare !"

"Oh, yes, believe me, I've got nothing to lose and everything to gain."

"What do you want ?"

"Nothing complicated. I want to be able to call on you whenever I need and for you to give me what I ask for. One delay, one misstep, one doubt about your loyalty, and you'll end up six feet under. Is that clear ?"

"Crystal," he replies through gritted teeth, seething with hatred.

I flash him my brightest smile, satisfied with my victory. I give him a pat on the shoulder, saying, "You'll need to toughen up, my friend."

With those words, I exit the car.

"Oh, and you owe me a light too !" I add before slamming the door, leaving him alone with the consequences of his actions.

Months pass, and soon it's been a year of relentless work. We spend our days training without respite, and every day I receive my series of photos of Ezio to desensitize myself to his image. Andrea's method is paying off. I shed a little more of the weight of my grief each day and can now look at a picture of him without crying or being devastated.

Only my love for him remains. Still as deeply in love as I was on the first day, I focus on our beautiful moments together and how lucky I was to know him. I've made peace with the fact that he's now just a chapter in my life, and despite his importance, I must move forward for myself. He's become my strength, and no matter what happens, he won't become my weakness again.

Every day brings new challenges. As promised, Andrea has raised the level of the exercises to sharpen my senses. From the hangar, we moved to a clearing where the wind distorted every sense and the grass swallowed every sound that might give me a clue. We also went to a beach where the noise of the waves filled my ears, and the sand made detecting footsteps impossible. We even trained on a rooftop, where the city's noises became the biggest disruption to my senses. Despite all this, I've gradually learned to increase my focus and detect my adversary's position, regardless of the surrounding noise. I've gained the ability to filter out distractions and focus on what I need to find. Of course, when Andrea puts me in more stressful, high-tension situations, I can't always detect my enemy with complete accuracy, but I still perform well.

We've continued with firearms training, in which I now excel. I rarely missed my target before, but now I know my weapon so well that it's nearly impossible for an enemy to escape alive.

Thanks to the rigorous physical training I've followed, I've gained endurance and strength. I've also discovered martial arts, where I've developed my combat techniques, as well as speed in executing my movements and agility. Much faster than before, I've also honed my ability to become nearly invisible. My steps are as light as a mouse's, and my ease in avoiding obstacles grants me optimal stealth.

Andrea has also taught me to break through all limits, training me to pick locks—a crucial skill for obtaining well-hidden information. In addition to making me accustomed to the repugnant, he's also prepared me, as he puts it, to "embrace the illusion that the pleasure of the flesh can save me."

This is the area I've had the most difficulty with, refusing to repeat the episode with Leone. No matter how well I can master my emotions, the pleasure of the flesh remains something I will always try to avoid. I understand why he had to introduce me to it, but I'm not ready to accept it as a tool I can use.

Since my relationship with Ezio, I haven't been with anyone else—not for lack of opportunity, but for lack of desire. Every time I found someone attractive, just kissing them made me think of Ezio, and I felt like I was betraying him.

I've granted myself this threshold of tolerance, allowing myself the time I need to enter another relationship. Having made many concessions and much progress in dealing with my grief, I tell myself that I can afford this gift. Since I'm not ready for a new relationship, I see no reason to push myself into it.

On the psychological front, Andrea has trained me to detect my opponent's weaknesses and turn them into my strength, rendering them powerless. He's also taught me to identify what my enemy wants—be it glory, power, or wealth—and to become a formidable opponent by making them believe I can help, only to twist the situation to my advantage.

Finally, after enduring endless slideshows of horrors, Andrea has shown me how to treat myself or, if alone, find ways to do so. After all this, I believe my training is as complete as it can be, and though we continue training daily, I feel more than ready to embark on the most thrilling and formidable chapter of my life.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, isn't it ?

After a long day of knife combat training, we relax on my terrace, lulled by the gentle sound of the waves.

"May, one last thing—in a knife fight, you and your enemy are dangerously close. You can't just land one strike; you have to keep striking until they fall. Remember that and don't think you're safe after delivering what you think is a fatal blow," Andrea advises, beer in hand.

I nod, a smirk on my lips, knowing how much he loves instructing and how nostalgic he's becoming at the thought of our training sessions ending for good.

I don't have time to respond before his phone rings. He steps away to answer and returns with a stricken expression. Andy and I question him with our eyes, dreading his response, which comes quickly.

"It's Raphael. He was found dead in his bed this morning," he announces, eyes wide.