CHAPTER 117: THE DEADLY SHOT AT THE CITY OF BURIED HEARTS

Baldassare’s monastery was all cold marble and whispering history.

Luca stood in a dimly lit vault, facing the artifact hunter. Baldassare was an old man with thin, white hair and eyes that had seen too many horrors buried beneath the earth.

Luca placed a briefcase stuffed with €2 million on the marble table. "The item is a small metallic piece, stylized as a heart. It’s connected to the Bianchi’s family’s original settlement in Verona. I need its exact location and a way to breach the area without alerting the authorities."

Baldassare didn’t touch the money, he looked at the briefcase, then at Luca, his expression unreadable. "I know the object you speak of, Luca Morano. It is known locally as Il Cuore Profano—The Profane Heart. It’s not in the city...

It was moved centuries ago, following a devastating fire. It is currently interred in a private collection owned by the di Marco family. It is locked in the family crypt, directly beneath the only original structure they still possess."

Luca’s blood ran cold,

"Di Marco" Lorenzo’s family?. The one he had ’spared.’

"What structure?" Luca growled, his hand tightening on the silver pistol in his jacket.

Baldassare finally reached out, his long, thin finger tracing a line on a dusty, ancient map. "A small place, built on the oldest foundation in Verona. It’s not on your modern maps, luca. It is known to locals as The Red Chapel."

Luca stared at the map, the name a siren’s call of danger. It wasn’t an ancient monastery; it was a trap. Lorenzo had drawn Alessia to the heart of his family’s power.

"Where is it?" Luca demanded.

Baldassare shook his head, a genuine look of fear finally entering his eyes. "You don’t understand, luca. The heart... it is not the only thing interred there. The last di Marco to guard the crypt was entombed with it. His father was killed by his own brother during the Morano-di Marco alliance wars. His name was Donato Jordan."

Luca’s face went white. "My brother’s namesake?"

"No, luca," Baldassare corrected, his voice a terrified whisper. "Your brother was the last di Marco. He changed his name, fled to the Morano city for protection, and then returned years later to steal his family’s heart, thinking it would grant him power. When he failed, he buried it under the chapel to spite both families. Your brother Donato is the man entombed in the di Marco crypt. And the legend says, he did not go alone. He was buried with a living shadow, a loyal thorn."

Luca didn’t wait to hear more.

He turned and sprinted out of the vault, the briefcase of money forgotten.

The chapel, the heart, and the living shadow—it was all coalescing into a nightmare.

He had to get to Alessia.

The Uninvited Guest

Alessia, already in a cab, directed the bewildered driver toward the coordinates the vision had provided. Her hand was now glowing faintly under the skin, the red veins thick and bright.

She arrived at the Red Chapel.

It was an unassuming, stone building, tucked away in a narrow piazza.

The front door was barred with iron, but the compulsion was overwhelming.

She walked around the back, to a small, crumbling stone door.

As her hand reached for the rough latch, the world went silent.

The faint glow on her arm intensified, and she felt a surge of cold, terrible power that was both hers and not hers.

The door creaked open easily. The air inside was freezing and tasted of iron.

She stepped inside. The space was dark and smelled of dust and old prayers.

A single, stylized heart of metal sat on a pedestal under a weak beam of moonlight. Il Cuore Profano. The key.

"I knew you wouldn’t wait for him."

The voice came from the shadows behind the altar. Smooth, mocking, and full of ancient malice.

Alessia spun around, her heart hammering.

Lorenzo di Marco stepped into the weak light. His suit was pristine, his blue eyes empty, and the fresh, silver scar on his cheek shimmered like fresh mercury. He held a small, antique silver scythe.

"Don’t worry, Alessia," he said, his voice a silky drawl. "I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to thank you. You have brought the Blood Moon to its final resting place. The curse is in you, and the power is in them."

He gestured to her stomach. "You were always the key to the gate. I am merely the shepherd."

He lunged, the silver scythe a blur of motion. Alessia cried out, stumbling backward—but before the scythe could touch her, an invisible, powerful force exploded from her, a wave of cold, psychic energy that slammed into Lorenzo, throwing him back against the altar.

The surge of energy left Alessia gasping, but the glowing veins on her arm were now radiating heat. She looked down at her stomach, where she felt a sudden, fierce flutter. She had protected them without even trying.

The shadows were awake.

"You can’t touch me," she said, finding her voice, a new, cold determination hardening her gaze. "The curse is mine, and I won’t let you use it."

Lorenzo picked himself up, his eyes now blazing with a predatory fire. "We’ll see about that, Morano child. I only need the heart to complete the ritual. And I believe I just brought the last piece of the puzzle with me."

He stepped back and snapped his fingers once. The stone door through which Alessia had entered slammed shut, locking her in.

Then, the floor of the chapel began to rumble. The stone altar shuddered, and a slab of marble on the floor slid open, revealing a gaping, dark hole—the entrance to the crypt....

From the darkness, a figure began to rise. It was tall, immaculately dressed in a black suit, his face a terrifying mirror of Luca’s own. It was a perfectly preserved corpse, skin pale, eyes wide and dead—and yet, it moved.

Donato Jordan, the true originator of the curse, stood before her, his empty eyes fixed on the heart on the pedestal.

Lorenzo smirked. "Meet your true fiancé, Alessia. The one who started all of this. He needs to use his heart to open the gate, and he needs you to be the vessel. You’re the mother of the new empire, and he’s its loyal shadow."

Alessia stumbled back, her hand instinctively going to the small, round stone she carried in her pocket—the one Váĺká had given her. It felt like a small ember, growing hot with the approach of Donato.

Donato took one slow, deliberate step toward her. His lips cracked, and a dry, terrible sound escaped.

"Answer the call, blood child..."

Just as Alessia raised the stone, preparing to throw it at the advancing shadow, the iron bars on the front door of the chapel shattered.

Daisy, her face grim, her clothes torn, stood in the doorway, the silver pistol smoking in her hand.

"Luca’s on his way, Alessia" she yelled, leveling the gun at Lorenzo. "Get out of there!"

Lorenzo turned, a flash of surprise giving way to cold fury. "The loyal thorn," he hissed. "You shouldn’t have come back."

Daisy didn’t answer, She fired.

The bullet missed Lorenzo but slammed into the Profane Heart, knocking it off the pedestal. It clattered against the stone floor, emitting a high-pitched, resonant chime.

The sound was the final trigger.

The three shadows inside Alessia woke up. A blinding, red light erupted from her, a protective shield of pure curse-power that slammed back against the walls, throwing both Daisy and Lorenzo to the ground.

The power surge ripped through the floor of the chapel.

A single, ancient tombstone cracked and exploded, and from the newly created fissure, a black, viscous smoke poured out, coiling and swirling toward the ceiling, coalescing into a gargantuan, terrifying form that was neither man nor shadow—the gate was opening, and something far older than the bianchi’s was stepping through.

Alessia was on her knees, the pain in her stomach a blinding fire, but she could see the swirling entity, and she could hear its ancient, hungry whisper:

"I have been called. Now, show me the path to the city of men."

Before anyone could move, a third figure burst into the ruined chapel, his eyes wild with terror and rage: Luca Morano.

He saw it.... A moving corpse, the wounded Lorenzo, the loyal Daisy, and the terrified Alessia, who was now emanating a terrifying red light.

But what fixed his gaze was the black, swirling entity that had formed in the middle of the room.

Luca, seeing only a threat to his wife, raised his pistol at the shadow form, his finger squeezing the trigger.

"Get away from her" he roared.

But just as the gun fired, the shadow entity lunged—not at Luca, but at Alessia.

It slammed into her, a cold, heavy embrace that stole her breath.

And the curse, the full, unstoppable power of the Blood Moon, consumed her.....