Alexia's voice was barely a whisper in the ruined cell.
"Go where?"
She lay on her back amongst the shredded remnants of her habit, thighs trembling, skin smeared with his release, the taste of him yet thick upon her tongue. The moonlight cut a silver swath across her collarbones and across the bruises that flowered like dark roses upon her breasts.
Luca stood over her, belt already fastened, sweater smoothed down as though he had not just fucked her into the mattress of a consecrated room. The soldiers behind him kept their eyes averted, trained dogs who knew better than to look at the boss's woman.
"You're coming with me," he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I didn't break into a convent and risk a war with the Church just to leave empty-handed."
Alexia's eyes narrowed, the haze of orgasm sharpening into something colder. "No."
The single word cracked between them like a gunshot.
Luca tilted his head, entertained. "No?"
She pushed herself up on shaking arms, clutching the torn fabric to her chest - pointless modesty now, but instinct. "I'm not leaving. This is my home. Those little girls in the dormitory - some of them have no one else. If I disappear tonight, they'll think God abandoned them too."
Something flickered across Luca's face, too fast to name.
Annoyance, maybe. Or recognition.
She pressed on, her voice gaining strength. "You got what you came for." She gestured at her ruined body, at the wet sheets, at the crucifix staring down in silent judgment. "Take your victory and go."
Luca stepped closer, his boots silent on the stone. He crouched beside the cot so they were eye-level, his hand coming up to cup her cheek with deceptive gentleness.
"Listen carefully, Alexia." His thumb stroked the tear track beneath her eye. "I don't lose. I don't walk away. And I sure as fuck don't leave what's mine in a cage, no matter how pretty the bars."
She jerked her face from his touch. "Then you'll have to drag me out screaming. Because I won't go willingly."
For a long moment, the only sound was the distant, frantic sobbing of the sisters in the corridor and the creak of rifle straps as his men shifted.
Luca studied her-really studied her. The stubborn set of her jaw, the way her fingers clutched the torn habit like armour, the tremor in her lower lip she refused to let become a sob.
Something shifted behind his eyes. Not softness - never that, but a calculation.
He stood suddenly.
"Boss?" one of his men said.
Luca didn't look away from her. "We're leaving."
Alexia blinked, sure she had misheard.
He turned on his heel, coat flaring like wings, and strode toward the shattered door. Over his shoulder, voice casual: "Lock up behind us. No one saw anything. The convent keeps its secrets tonight."
The soldiers hesitated for only a second before filing out after him.
Alexia remained frozen on the bed, naked and stunned, while she listened to the thunder of boots retreating down the corridor, the terrified whispers of the sisters, the heavy front gates groaning open and then slamming shut.
There was silence-thick, stunned, sacred.
She did not move until Mother Superior's voice cracked through the hush like breaking glass.
"Sister Alexia!"
Minding only her modesty, Alexia scrambled for the remnants of her clothing; her heart was hammering. She yanked a spare habit from the trunk-plain, coarse, still smelling of lye-and pulled it over her head just as the old woman burst in, face white as bone, eyes wild.
"Men—at our gate—with guns! They demanded you by name!"
Mother Superior's voice rose to a shriek. "What wickedness have you brought upon this house?"
Alexia dropped to her knees on cold stone, her head bowed and hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white.
"I don't know him, Reverend Mother," she lied; the words tasted like rust. "I swear by the Blessed Virgin, I have never seen that man before tonight."
Mother Superior stared at her for a long moment, searching no doubt for the truth written in the bruises peeking above the collar, in the tremor of her shoulders.
Alexia held her breath.
The old woman finally uttered a sound-half sob, half curse-and repeatedly crossed herself.
"You will stay in your cell until I decide what is to be done. The Bishop will be informed at first light. Pray, child. Pray as you have never prayed before."
She swept out, slamming the door so hard the crucifix rattled on the wall.
Alexia remained on her knees long after the footsteps faded, her forehead pressed to the edge of the cot, whispering every prayer
she knew until the Latin blurred into nonsense.
She did not sleep again.
Grey, merciless dawn crept in.
She got up only when the bell for Lauds rang, mechanical, obedient, and went through the motions of the day like a ghost: chapel, refectory, classroom. The little girls stared at her pale face and whispered of the devil who had come in the night. She smiled at them with bloodless lips and taught them about guardian angels.
Night fell again.
This time, she locked her door-pointless, she knew-changed the splintered frame for a new one herself, and knelt before the crucifix with her rosary cutting into her palms.
Please, God - let him forget me, find someone else, let this cup pass.
The convent settled into an uneasy quiet. Midnight came and went.
At 00:47, a soft knock sounded-not on her door, but on the window.
Alexia's heart stopped.
On silent feet, she crept to the shutters and eased one open a crack.
Alone in the moonlit garden below stood Luca, his hands in the pockets of a long black coat, its collar turned up against the wind.
No soldiers. No guns visible.
He looked up at her window and smiled-small, almost gentle, utterly terrifying.
"I gave you one night, Sister," he called softly, voice carrying perfectly in the stillness. "One night to pray. One night to pretend you have a choice."
He reached into his coat and drew out something small and black - her torn veil from the club, now cleaned and folded with obscene care.
"I'll be back tomorrow," he went on, conversational. "And the night after. And every night after that until you walk out those gates on your own two feet. Because we both know what happens if I have to come in again."
He tucked the veil into his pocket like a love token.
"Sweet dreams, Alexia."
He turned and melted into the shadows as silently as he had arrived.
Alexia stood frozen at the window for long moments after he was gone, her fingers pressed to the cold glass, the walls of her sanctuary shrinking around her like a tomb.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled-or at least, maybe that was the wind
But in the very depths of the convent, beneath the chapel floor, where no living sister was ever allowed, something stirred in its chains, something ancient.