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“Then let me break. Spat on her. One eye was swollen shut. When it begins.”

Roxy took it in her teeth and lay down. But when Verena pressed her gloved hand to Roxy’s thigh and began the process — careful, slow, unforgiving — all pretense shattered. Roxy sobbed around the belt. But still she did not cry out. She could not. Between them lay the object: a power core encased in sanctified adamantium, roughly the size of a gauntleted fist. He was shaking — from the act, from awe, from the reality of what she had endured. Epilogue: The Silence of Saints

Roxy was later recovered alive — barely. Nothing could prepare a body for this. Sister Roxy was not born a hero — she was forged into one, molded by pain, obedience, and the fire of devotion. He looked at her, still convulsing on the floor, and for once, the mighty Astartes could not find words. But worse than pain was the silence she had to hold. Her journey is one of devotion beyond pride, of suffering beyond honor. Still sealed.”

He said nothing. He only looked at her — truly looked — and understood what she had done. She arched her back. It is not clean.