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Father Donald lets out a gurgling shriek, his body convulsing violently beneath Romeo's boot. His hands claw uselessly at the air, his eyes rolling back in his head. Romeo's boot presses harder against his chest, pinning him as he struggles, a silent anchor to his agonizing end.

My hand is steady as I carve. It's a clean cut, deliberate and precise, severing cartilage, muscle, and bone. I don't flinch. I don't hesitate. I feel the slight resistance of flesh, the sharp slice through sinew, and the warm, slick gush of blood against my fingers, coating them in a thick, metallic sheen. The smell of his death fills my nostrils, primal and satisfying.

When I am finished, I rise, the ceremonial hunting knife dripping red.

Father Donald lies still beneath Romeo's boot, his throat a mangled, bloody mess. His terrified eyes are still wide open, staring up at the gilded crucifix on the altar, but they see nothing. His tongue lolls out, purple and useless, a testament to his silenced blasphemy.

I hand the knife back to Romeo, hilt first. He takes it without a word, his gaze sweeping over my face, searching for a hint of remorse, a flicker of doubt, a shadow of the girl I used to be. He finds nothing but cold, righteous fury and an absolute, terrifying calm.

"Clean up your mess, Romeo," I command, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "And tell your men to leave a message. A clear one. No one touches the Messina Donna without paying in blood and silence."

Romeo's lips curve into a slow, wicked grin, his eyes burning with a dark, primal satisfaction. "My wish is your command, mia regina."

He gives a sharp nod to Tony, who steps forward, his face grim but his eyes alight with a savage satisfaction. "Enzo, Jamie. Clear the building. Burn it to the ground. Leave nothing but ash."

I turn away from the carnage, walking back down the aisle between the overturned pews and the cowering council members. My heels click against the marble, a steady, deliberate rhythm. Sofia trots silently beside me, her muzzle red with Father Donald's blood, her tail wagging with a disturbing, almost gleeful satisfaction.

I don't look back.

The monastery explodes behind us, a roar of fire and smoke that shakes the very ground we walk on. The sky above the Catskills is no longer dark with rain but lit with the bloody orange glow of burning vengeance, a beacon announcing my return to the light that’s shades of grey.

Romeo catches up to me at the edge of the courtyard, his hand finding the small of my back, guiding me toward the waiting Escalade.

"You were magnificent," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear, his voice rough with admiration. "Absolutely glorious. The queen they deserve."

"I'm not done yet," I reply, my voice hard, unwavering. "We still have Victor. And we still have the rest of the Scottish syndicate. And you still have secrets."

He opens the car door for me, his hand never leaving my back. I slide into the leather seat, Sofia leaping in after me, and turn to face him. He closes the door, trapping us in the intimate darkness of the backseat.

"I told you everything, Iris," he says, his voice a low, possessive rumble. "There are no more secrets. Only trust."

"No more secrets?" I mock, a harsh, humorless laugh escaping my lips. "What about the cameras? The drugs in my tea? The years of stalking my life, deciding my fate from the shadows without my consent?"

Romeo's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking violently beneath his skin. He reaches out, his large hand cupping my face, his thumb stroking over my cheekbone, his touch a possessive caress.

"I did what I had to do," he growls, his eyes burning with an unholy light. "I protected you. I kept you safe."

"Safe?" I scoff, pulling away from his touch. "You broke me. You manipulated me. You stole my life and replaced it with a gilded cage, all because you felt guilty about not saving my eyes. You want my trust? You want my surrender? Then you will earn it, Romeo Messina. You will grovel for it."

Romeo freezes, his eyes widening. A flicker of surprise, then something dark and dangerous, flashes in their depths. His lips part, as if to argue, but I press a single finger against them, silencing his protest.

"On your knees, Don Messina," I command, my voice dropping to a low, silken purr that vibrates with raw power. "You want my forgiveness? You want my heart, then? Then you will beg for it. Like the animal you are."

His gaze is fixed on mine, intense and unblinking. I see the war raging within him: his pride, his dominance, his inherent need for control clashing with a desperate, all-consuming hunger for me.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowers himself to the plush leather floor of the Escalade, dropping to his knees before me. His massive frame is hunched, his head bowed, his eyes still locked on mine, burning with a mix of fury, desire, and something akin to awe.

"Tell me what you want, mia regina," he whispers, his voice thick with raw emotion, stripped of all arrogance, utterly submissive. "Anything. I will give you everything."

"Everything?" I mock, leaning forward, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling his head back until his throat is exposed. "Tell me all your secrets. Every detail of your sick obsession. Every camera. Every drug. Every step you took to steal my life and make it yours."

Romeo closes his eyes, a shudder running through his body.

"I watched you sleep every night, Iris," he confesses, his voice a raw, agonizing whisper that rips through the silence of the car. "I slipped into your bed and held you while you dreamt. I changed your tea, I installed the cameras, I bought Sofia, I bought the penthouse, I bought the villa, and I designed your studio. Everything. Every part of your life has been touched by me. I watched you heal. I watched you break. I watched you paint; I watched you cry. I watched you live. I lived for you. And I would do it all again. A thousand times over."

His words are a confession, a prayer, a desperate plea for dangerous love. My heart aches with a familiar mix of anger and a dark, possessive thrill that matches his own.

"And you would never stop?" I whisper, my fingers tightening in his hair.