The crimson liquid washes down the drain as I scrub my hands under the cold water. My phone buzzes on the counter, a confirmation from Rocco that Alessandra is safe and that he’s organised the clean-up crew who will be coming to take care of the mess I’ve made.

There’s a lot to clean up.

My violent reflection stares back at me. My hands might be clean, but there will be no hiding what I have done from Mia. My clothes are splattered with more than one person’s blood. Arianne’s muffled voice comes through my phone’s speaker, and I shut off the tap so I can hear her better.

“She’s coming up the East Stairwell. She’s admiring your… handiwork.” My stomach drops. I haven’t been on a rampage like this since Francesca’s death. I wanted to feel the life draining from their bodies as I punished them for what they tried to take from me. What they took from so many others before.

Mia knows the truth about me, but it’s very different for her to actually see in person what I’ve done today. I know I should feel some regret. I don’t. I would do it all again in a heartbeat to get to her. But I also know that this might change her feelings towards me forever, and if it does, I’ll have to find some way to make peace with that. I won’t hold her prisoner. Not after everything she’s been through.

“She’s stronger than you think, Matteo. She can handle this,” Arianne says softly, as if reading my thoughts. When I don’t answer, she continues.

“There aren’t any cameras backstage or in the auditorium, so I’ll lose eyes on her in a minute.”

“Okay, I’ll meet her there. Thanks for everything, Arianne.”

“No problem, bro. Go get your girl.” The call ends with a beep, and I leave the bathroom, crossing through the plush hallway. I don’t stop to look at the three bodies I dragged out here. I stride through the double doors into the auditorium. Time to face Il Cigno for the last time.

I peel my jacket off and lay it carefully beside me in the front row. I crash down into the theatre seat, exhausted but wired. I need to calm down. I take a beat, and then I hone my focus on the minutiae. The peeling gold paint on the stage lights. The fraying edge of the red velvet seat next to me. The light scratches on the floor of the stage, empty except for the black grand piano.

A door backstage slams shut, and I go still. Tentative footsteps approach. There’s a soft thud. Then Il Cigno steps out onto the stage. I’m not prepared for the crashing relief that slams through me, and if I weren’t already sitting, I know I would’ve been brought to my knees. She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s here.

I’m snapped back to the first time I saw her all those years ago. The white mask is exactly how I remember it, the porcelain glimmering under the golden lights. The only colours are the black-tipped nose and ruby-red lips. White feathers flow from the mask, standing stark against Mia’s long, dark hair. She’s wearing a white corseted dress exactly like Cavaldi would have wanted her to. My stomach pitches. What would I have done if Cavaldi had taken her? I push the thought away.

“Not who you expected?” My voice echoes around the auditorium. I can just imagine her wide emerald eyes underneath the mask as she tries to make sense of what happened. “Cavaldi won’t be bothering you again.” Her shoulders collapse. My body jolts towards her, but I resist the urge to go to her.

“Play for me.” I’m not expecting the words to come out, but they do, an echo of a night we shared at the convent.

I can’t believe it’s Mia.

My Mia.

She was Il Cigno all along.

The music she plays is new to me, but also somehow already familiar. I am more captivated by her than I have ever been. Her performance is breathtaking; her fingers moving faster and the music hitting me more deeply than anything I’ve heard before. She pours herself into the notes; her hope, her relief, her love. The room falls silent when she’s done.

I’m expecting her to say something, but she just starts another piece. Mia doesn’t normally shy away from a confrontation, but tonight it seems she doesn’t want to face the truth. That’s too bad.

I rise from my chair, climb the stairs onto the stage, and approach her slowly. Her mask is tilted down towards the piano, but I can feel her eyes tracking me. I already know that she doesn’t need to look at the keys to play this well. I rest my hand on the piano, wanting to be closer to the music she is making for me. Her fingers come to a rest when the piece finishes.

“Take off the mask.” My voice is hard. Commanding. But my little Argentella shakes her head. She might not be ready to admit the truth, but I’m done waiting. I sit next to her on the bench.

“Go on then.” I nod towards the piano, and she quickly starts a new melody. I reach my hand up and run my calloused fingertips over the feathers on the mask. They’re just as soft as I had imagined they would be all those years ago. My touch trails across her neck, and then I trace the top of her dress, letting my fingers dance over the swells of her breasts in the corset. My other hand tangles in her skirt as I slowly pull it up. Her breaths become more laboured, and she shifts her hips towards my hand, wanting more. It’s only been a few days, but it feels like a lifetime since I had my hands on her. She feels soft and warm. She feels like home. Her fingers stumble on the keys, and my hands still.

“If you stop, I stop.” She pauses for a beat, and then she nods shakily and resumes the music. That’s all the encouragement I need. She knows it’s me, and she knows that I will hold to my word and stop whenever she wants.

In one move, I drop to my knees and reposition her so I can fit between her thighs, spreading her legs. It’s a tight squeeze under the piano, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m frantic as I lift her skirt the rest of the way, but I freeze when my hand brushes against the gun holster strapped to her thigh. My heart lodges in my throat at how close I came to losing her. Never again.

I pull her hips towards me as I lower my head. She is mine. He didn’t get her. Her taste explodes on my tongue, and I groan at the sensation. She bucks against my hold, chasing my mouth and grinding down on me. I tightly grip her hips, not letting her escape from me. Her legs clench around my head, but I don’t let up. I would happily suffocate between her thighs. Her moans become more erratic and her legs begin to tremble, but just as she gets close, I rip away from her.

“Take off the mask.” I’m desperate. Our eyes meet for the first time. Her chest heaves, but I can see from her expression she’s still not going to take it off. Cazzo.

I snap. I push the stool back, no longer giving a fuck about the music. She gasps when I lift her and spin her until she’s bent over the bench with her bare ass in the air. I fumble with my trousers and pull my cock out. She whimpers and wiggles back towards me.

“How could you have put yourself at risk like that?” My hand lands on her ass with a slap, and the sound she makes is something between a surprised cry and a groan. I pin her arms to her back to keep her where I want her.

“Did you think that Cavaldi was more obsessed with you than I am? More dangerous than I am? You were wrong.” I spank her other ass cheek and take in the red handprints left behind. When I dip between her thighs, she’s soaking. She might not be ready to admit the truth about Il Cigno, but she doesn’t deny that she likes this. And when I ask if she wants to continue, her nod is the most eager one yet. But I won’t let her get away with it that easily.

“Then beg. Dai Il Cigno. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to finish this.”

“Please,” she moans, and her hips buck back towards me. I curse. In relief and in desperation. Then I impale her with one thrust. It feels too good inside her; I can’t hold off. I pound into her, setting a punishing pace, clinging to the edges of the stool.

“Did I not promise you there was nowhere that you could run to that I would not find you?” I growl, barely recognising my own voice. Her pussy clenches around me, and I spank her hard once again. It pushes her over the edge. Her body undulates, but I don’t give her an inch of escape, thrusting into her until she is quivering with aftershocks.

I see the moment my words break through the haze of her desire. Her body stiffens. I release my hold on her, and she pushes herself upright into my waiting arms. I drop my mouth to her ear.

“Did you think that flimsy mask would be enough to hide you from me? That I wouldn’t be able to recognise the way your fingers move, the way your leg trembles when you’re nervous, the way you breathe? That I wouldn’t know your every movement like it is an extension of my own? That I wouldn’t know what this perfect pussy tastes like? How good it feels when it comes on my cock?” I know I’m probably revealing too much, but I gave up hiding myself from her before, and I won’t start again now. I pull out of her and give her some space.

“Take off the fucking mask, Mia.” Her hands shake as she lifts the mask and drops it to the floor. She takes a beat before her gaze meets mine. Fuck, she’s so beautiful. She’s flushed from being under the mask; pink tinges her cheeks.

“You severely underestimated my obsession with you, Argentella.”

“I thought…” Her eyes fill with tears. I reach for her face, holding her gaze so I know for sure that she’s listening. That she isn’t lost in her head.

“I know what you thought. You should’ve known better. It’s you. It’s only ever been you. It will only ever be you.” Something between a sob and a giggle bursts out of her, and then she’s in my arms, her hands tangling in my hair and her mouth on mine. I try to pull her impossibly closer, and we get lost in each other. I love her. All of her. Her stubbornness, her quick wit, even her secrets. I don’t deserve her, but I will spend the rest of my life trying to.