Three weeks bleed by, and still no whisper of Amanda, though Ravenelle’s nets stretch wide. Fury fuels her, hones her to a killing edge, sharp as the stilettos she stalks in, pacing cages of concrete and shadow. Sleep shuns her, her mind a maelstrom, and when it does come, Derek’s ghost waits in the wings, accusing, always accusing.

It’s in one such den, a bolt-hole hugging the Turkish coast, that the call comes, a lifeline in the tempest.

“Zara here. Our Greek eyes have her – Amanda, flitting across the waves to Lavrio, cloaked in lies. She walks alone. Awaiting orders.”

Ravenelle’s smile could cut glass. “Hold. Let her think she’s slipped the snare. Track her, report to me. I fly to Athens on the next tide.”

Alone, Ravenelle stands sentinel, the night her cloak, the sea her siren song. Out there, Amanda preens in premature triumph, not knowing the wolves are already at the door, fangs bared for the kill. Justice, at last, shall have its due, and Ravenelle’s jaws ache to paint the town red.

The huntress alights in Athens, a raven cloaked in midnight and malice. No time to waste – she commandeers a chariot and races for Lavrio, the thrill of the chase thrumming in her veins. Intelligence streams in, a river of secrets – Amanda, holed up dockside, a spider in her shabby web, awaiting her chance to scurry.

But there will be no escape, not this time. Ravenelle scrolls through a candid shot – Amanda, sun-kissed and smiling, sipping coffee without a care. The sight sickens her, stokes the flames of her fury. The trap is set, the pieces in place. Time to spring it on this mewling mockery of a mastermind.

The car purrs to a halt outside a faded pension, a sunbleached husk. Ravenelle emerges, a wraith in widow’s weeds, borne on the breath of Hades.

Through salt-caked glass, she spies her quarry bent over maps and manifestos, charting her flight. Ravenelle grins, cold as the grave. Oh, my dear, dear girl…you soar no more.

Death comes knocking, wearing Louboutins and a vicious smirk.

Knock knock, little fly. Guess who’s come to call?

Amanda starts, ashen, atremble. “H-how…?”

“Darling, did you truly think to flee forever?” Ravenelle glides past her, a shark scenting blood. “I applaud your audacity in striking at my heart. Almost.”

Her gaze pierces like an ice pick. “Now, be a lamb and bleat out your ‘why’ before I exact my pound of flesh.”

Amanda rallies, a kitten hissing at a cobra. “You still don’t see, do you? I loved him! He loved me! Then you – you erased me, drove him into your arms! I wanted you to choke on my anguish!”

And there it is, laid bare – a twisted skein of obsession and betrayal. Ravenelle softens, a sword sheathed in silk.

“Oh, you poor, deluded child. You’ve swum too deep, dove too dark. Surrender now, and perhaps – “

A glint, a flash, a gasp!

Amanda lunges, a folding knife blooming from her fist like a deadly flower! Ravenelle pivots, a matador’s dance, but the blade bites deep, painting her sleeve scarlet. Amanda advances, tears streaming, a giggle bubbling up half-mad.

“If I can’t have him, NO ONE WILL!”

Ravenelle moves on instinct, flowing like quicksilver. A twist, a turn, a sickening snap – Amanda’s wrist hangs limp, the knife clattering to cold tile. Ravenelle wrenches her arm behind her back, slams her face-first into unyielding concrete. Pressing close, she hisses in Amanda’s ear, a serpent’s kiss:

“Derek is dead, you mewling quim. By your hand. There is no world in which you walk free.”

Amanda thrashes, overwrought. “Then KILL me! I have NOTHING!”

Ravenelle chuckles, mirthless. With her free hand, she plucks a sleek stiletto from her thigh sheath. “Oh no, my sweet. Death is too good for you…”

The blade flashes, bites – Amanda screams, high and shrill! Ravenelle steps back, breathing hard, and surveys her work. Amanda writhes on the floor, clutching the ruin of her face – two clean slashes mar her porcelain cheeks, weeping scarlet tears.

“An eye for an eye, my dear. You scarred my soul…I scar your beauty. A fitting penance, no?”

Amanda sobs, wordless, worthless. Ravenelle sneers in disgust.

Outside, sirens swell – the local gendarmes, right on cue. Ravenelle flings the door wide, a dark herald of ruination.

“She’s all yours, boys. Do lock her up tight…we wouldn’t want her wandering again.”

As Amanda is dragged away wailing, Ravenelle lights a cigarette, one lone ember against the dying of the light. The huntress has caught her prey, the game is done.

But the hunger…the hunger remains. Derek is lost to her, ashes scattered to the scouring winds.

And without her heart, what is she? What does she become?

A raven loosed from her gilded cage? Or a serpent shedding yet another skin?

Only time, that cruelest mistress of all, will tell. The wheel turns, the players change.

But the Grandeur stands eternal.

And Ravenelle’s legend grows, shadow on shadow, secret on secret.

The Dark Queen reigns supreme…and God help any who cross her path.

Not. The. End.