The ring sat in Mariluna's palm like a stone, dense, cold, and impossibly heavy for its size.
Black gold, elegant and ancient in its design, shaped into quiet curves that whispered of legacy. Two crests had been carved into its surface: the Rossi serpent curled around a dagger, and the Valez phoenix ascending from fire. Both symbols carried the weight of history. Of power. Of blood.
This wasn't a keepsake.
It was a covenant.
An agreement forged in darkness long before she had the voice to object.
The velvet pouch it had come in felt thicker than it should've. Frowning, she turned it over in her hand. Her fingers found a hidden seam, almost invisible to the eye. Carefully, she slipped a nail under the stitch and pried it open.
Inside, tucked into the lining, was a folded, yellowed piece of paper.
A letter.
Her father's handwriting stared back at her in a script she hadn't seen in years.
To my daughter, should she ever find this.
I made a pact with the devil to keep you alive.
If you're reading this, then I failed. I failed to protect you.
That means Lorenzo found you first. Good. He may be ruthless. He may be cold. But I trust him more than I trust anyone else in this world.
Do not run from him, Mari. Don't fight him.
He is the only one who understands the war you were born into.
And if he loves you, even for a moment, then you might survive what's coming.
Love,
Sebastian Valez.
The letter slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor without a sound.
Love?
Lorenzo?
The man didn't know what love was. Everything about him was precision and pressure, his words clipped, his touches calculated. He didn't love. He dominated. He held. He controlled.
And yet…
There had been moments, brief and flickering like dying candlelight, where she'd caught something in him that didn't fit the mask. The way his hand brushed her cheek. The look in his eyes when he thought she wasn't watching.
She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her face.
Why did her chest ache?
Why did her heart remember the heat of his skin before her mind could scream at her to forget it?
A knock broke through her thoughts.
She froze.
Then a second knock, harder this time.
Snatching the ring and letter, she shoved them back into the pouch and tucked it beneath her pillow. Crossing the room quickly, she opened the door.
Lorenzo stood there, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his collar unbuttoned. He looked tired, but alert.
"You're still awake," he said.
She said nothing.
"I need you to come with me."
"Where?" she asked cautiously.
He stepped to the side. "There's something I want you to see."
The ride was silent. The car moved smoothly through the sleeping city, its windows darkened to the outside world. They left the lights behind, climbing a winding mountain road that curled like a serpent around the cliffs.
At the summit stood a cathedral, ancient, silent, forgotten.
Its silhouette was sharp against the night sky, like it had been carved out of time itself.
Lorenzo pushed open the heavy wooden doors. They groaned under their own weight, as if protesting the disturbance after decades of stillness.
Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of candle wax and stone. Iron sconces lined the walls, flames flickering low. At the center of the room, under a fractured dome of moonlight, stood a statue.
Two figures carved from marble, one, a woman with a blade raised high; the other, a man crowned in thorns.
"This is where the House of Rossi was born," Lorenzo said quietly, standing beside her. "Centuries ago."
She stepped forward, running her fingers over the cold stone.
"And the Valez?"
"Sworn enemies," he replied. "Until one day, to end the bloodshed, they arranged a union. Marriage. But peace never came. Only more betrayal."
She turned to him slowly.
"What does this have to do with me?"
He looked at her, really looked at her, like he wasn't just seeing Mariluna, but something much older.
"You're the last living child of both lines," he said. "The union that was meant to end a war was never fulfilled. But the blood… it lives in you. You are the legacy both sides tried to control."
Her breath hitched.
"That's why you took me," she whispered. "Not to protect me. To own me."
His jaw tightened. "That's what I told myself. In the beginning."
"And now?"
He didn't speak right away.
Instead, he moved toward her. Slowly. Like approaching a flame.
"I wanted power," he said finally. "I wanted to seize what your father tried to bury. But I got you instead. Fierce. Unpredictable. The girl who slapped me in front of my own men."
Her pulse raced.
"You mistake possession for care," she said, voice shaking.
"I don't confuse the two," he murmured. "But I do know one thing."
He leaned in, and his breath touched her lips.
"If anyone tries to take you from me now… I'll burn the world down to keep you."
Her hands trembled, but she didn't pull away.
Not because she feared him.
But because, deep down, part of her believed him.
**
Back at the estate, under the cover of night, a figure scaled the west wing rooftop like a shadow given flesh.
Dressed in black, they moved with ease, silent, practiced, lethal.
Inside the hallway, Cassandra stepped from her bedroom, her phone lit up in her hand.
She never saw the attacker.
Never got the chance to scream.
The only trace left behind was her phone, face down on the floor, still buzzing.
Sender: Unknown
You picked the wrong cousin to betray.
**
At the cathedral, Mariluna stood beside the altar, her hand wrapped tightly around the ring tucked in her pocket.
Lorenzo was looking past her now, toward the main door.
David had just arrived, his expression pale, his breath uneven.
"We have a situation," he said urgently.
Lorenzo's body went still.
"Cassandra?" he asked.
"Gone," David said.
Lorenzo's eyes darkened. "What do you mean, gone?"
"Taken. We found her phone. And this."
He held out a slip of paper.
"She wasn't the target," David added, his voice low.
Lorenzo turned toward Mariluna.
"They're getting bolder."
But Mariluna didn't flinch.
Not this time.
Because for once…
She wasn't afraid.