CHAPTER 116: THE CITY OF THE BURIED HEART 2

The private jet sliced through the cloud-heavy sky, an immaculate bubble of wealth and silence over the churning chaos that had consumed Alessia’s life.

Luca sat across from her, the laptop screen casting a pale, cold light on his face.

He wasn’t watching a movie or playing a game; he was deep in the digital labyrinth of his Morano network, a one-man war room in the sky.

"The location for the contact is set," he said, not looking up. "A former Franciscan monastery on the outskirts of Verona now a private museum for esoteric artifacts, Discreet, secured. The man is named Baldassare. He’s an expert in relocating and, if necessary, destroying difficult objects."

Alessia watched the meticulous control in his hands, the way his jaw was set.

He was trying to reduce a spiritual plague—a thousand-year-old pact with the Blood Moon—to a simple item retrieval mission.

An artifact to be located, a problem to be terminated. It was his Morano answer to everything, and it was terrifyingly inadequate.

"You’re not planning to tell him the heart is cursed, are you?" Alessia asked, her voice calm despite the tremor in her hands.

She still felt the phantom-sensation of those three red shadows coiling behind her, a terrifying sense of company.

Luca finally looked up, his eyes sharp and unyielding. "I’ll tell him it’s a stolen antiquity of immense, volatile power. That’s close enough. I pay him enough, he won’t ask questions. He will just give me the schematics for its location. We get in, we get the item, we get out. Simple."

"It’s not an object, Luca," she insisted, leaning forward. "The heart is what Lorenzo buried there. It’s a key, an energy, maybe even a part of his spirit. And the witch told me Lorenzo is waiting for me. We’re walking into a trap set by a man you thought you saved, who is supposed to be apparently dead, and who now has a piece of your brother’s essence."

He slammed the laptop shut, the sound a sharp crack of finality.

He walked over and crouled beside her seat, his strong hands cupping her face. "Listen to me, amore," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I know your visions are real. I saw the gate, I saw the fear in your eyes. But this isn’t a fairy tale where we fight shadows with a holy relic.

This is Verona, It’s a Morano city. And in my city, I deal with ghosts the same way I deal with men: with resources, intelligence, and lethal force."

He pressed a fierce kiss to her forehead. "You are my world, and our children are my future. I will rip the soul out of Verona itself if it means keeping you safe. You are not going to be a key, Alessia, You are going to be my witness while I end this, now and forever. Do you understand?"

She nodded, the lie of compliance tasting like rust on her tongue.

She loved his protection, she loved his love and cares, she love how he is obsessed with her, indeed he was her answered prayer, her peace and her safe haven but she knew the heart could not be found with a blueprint and a silver pistol.

The curse was demanding a bargain, and to survive, she would have to play its game.

She looked down at her left hand; the faint crimson veins were still visible, a map etched into her skin.

*******

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, the scent of ozone and freshly spilled blood filled Seraphina’s high-rise apartment.

Daisy moved with the devastating, silent efficiency of a trained predator.

The silver pistol was useless—Lorenzo was too fast, too unnaturally strong.

The man who had blocked the door wasn’t just healed; he was augmented. His suit hadn’t wrinkled when she’d put a bullet in his chest; it had simply absorbed the impact.

He was a shade, a puppet of whatever power he had conjured in his final, cursed years.

Lorenzo had pinned her against the wall, his eyes once the piercing blue now held a distant, metallic sheen.

"The heart was a piece of the pact," Lorenzo purred, his fingers tightening like iron bands around her throat. "It was the Morano Family’s price for dominion. And Moranos... those fools, thought they could simply bury it to save themselves. But the gate still needs a key, and that key is the bianchi’s bloodline, Alessia. She is carrying the three original houses within her, but she doesn’t know. The true shadows." He laughed and his laughter was filled with mockery.

Daisy struggled, pulling a specialized ceramic knife from her sleeve.

She managed to slash a thin cut across his cheek.

The wound didn’t bleed; it just instantly sealed itself, leaving a faint, silver scar.

"The witch warned Seraphina but she’s too late," Daisy choked out. "Lorenzo you are indeed evil"

Lorenzo threw his head back and laughed, a hollow, echoing sound that scraped against Daisy’s nerves. "Vàlká is a relic, She thinks she can stand against the rising tide? She taught Alessia to fear her blood. I will teach her to wield it." He shoved her away, sending her sprawling across the room. "I’m going to Verona, Daisy. Seraphina here has served her purpose. I will take the heart, use the key, and open the gate. And then the true empire will begin."

He glanced down at Seraphina, who was still paralyzed with terror on the floor. "And Seraphina," he said with a soft, venomous malice, "I need you alive to witness the destruction of all you’ve worked for. See you when the Red Moon rises."

Seraphina managed to move her lips and talk to Lorenzo.

"What kind of curse illness did you infect me with, my bones are weak, my blood are drying, I feel hot and cold and dizzy, my skin is disturbed with cobwebs... What is -isss the curse, and where is it lorenzoooo". ....

But then, he was gone, melting into the shadows of the hallway as if he’d been a trick of the light.

Daisy scrambled up, her military training overriding the shock.

She holstered the pistol and ran to the floor-to-ceiling window. Down on the street, a sleek, black sports car was already pulling away, weaving through traffic with impossible speed.

She needed to move. She needed to tell Alessia that the keys were within her, the keys to the city of buried hearts. She needed proof too but she needed to go to Luca’s mansion first and as soon as possible.

She looked at Seraphina, who was now weeping into the expensive carpet. "The Red Chapel," Daisy said, her voice a low growl. "Tell me everything you know about the Red Chapel in Verona. Now.".....

" The Convent and the Artifact Hunter

Verona. A city of shadowed alleyways, ancient Roman ruins, and a deceptive quiet that masked centuries of buried secrets"... Seraphina said faintly and passed out while sobbing...

*******

Luca had arranged for a discreet, fortified villa on a hill overlooking the city.

But Alessia wasn’t interested in the view.

She was interested in the chill of the air, the way the ancient stones of the villa seemed to hum with history, and the relentless, throbbing ache in her left forearm.

The curse veins were darker now, pulsing beneath the skin.

Luca left immediately, a team of six Morano security agents fanning out behind him.

His mission: meet Baldassare and acquire the intelligence on the "stolen antiquity."

Alessia, left alone for the first time, felt the anchor of Luca’s presence lift, and with it, a strange, terrifying clarity descended.

She didn’t head to the bedroom; she walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the skyline.

It was her first true moment of surrender to the blood, and the blood answered.

The entire city lay before her, but her gaze was drawn, unerringly, to a single structure in the distance: a squat, medieval bell tower with a spire of dark red brick, almost entirely obscured by surrounding buildings.

A chapel, built of red stone. The Red Chapel.

"The city where the Morano Family was first consecrated to the Blood Moon..." Luca’s words echoed. The chapel was the origin point.

"Find the heart that was buried there..." the calling voice returned.

As she watched, the Red Chapel’s spire seemed to shimmer, and for a split second, a faint, swirling image overlaid the scene: a man, his face obscured by a priest’s cowl, frantically burying something deep beneath the chapel’s altar.

It was a vision, a perfect, agonizing memory projected straight into her mind.

The buried object was small, metallic, and shaped like a stylized heart.

Alessia stumbled back, her hand flying to her stomach.

This wasn’t just a vision; it was a command.

The curse was guiding her, using her connection to the unborn children to show her exactly where the heart was.

She couldn’t wait for Luca’s brute-force methods. The gate was about to open.

"I have to go," she whispered, already moving toward the door...