Buried Hearts Netflix Novels & Stories

He looked at me, bewildered. ~~~~ Iris Deluca, the unborn child of Onika and Agustin Deluca, I will love you always, you will always be a part of me, I will find you again in another life and be your mother, no matter how long it takes, no matter how many life times it takes, I will always be waiting for you, always. If possible please forgive your mother for not being able to protect you. "I had her buried in a cemetery, I was not ready to let go of her, and I don't think I ever will be" I inserted into the ear piercing silence.

"Believe me, I'm really sorry." Elena felt her mouth hang open as she watched June turn to leave, her figure slowly disappearing. She had just admitted to everything and left her even more confused. What exactly was June hiding? Why couldn't she explained things to her. At least, try to make her understand. 'Conor would kill the both of us'? Just what was that supposed to mean? She looked around the football pitch noticing she was the only one around. The emptiness of the football pitch was nothing compared to the emptiness in her heart.

Dr. Burden looks around thoughtfully. Then at me. Then at the door. “Complicated,” she says with a small chuckle. “Got it.” I huff out a breath somewhere between a laugh and a nervous breakdown. Yeah. Complicated is stating it mildly. There’s a psychopath on the loose. My girlfriend is unconscious. Her family wants to kill me. And there’s a tiny heartbeat flickering on that screen. And somehow … that’s the most terrifying part of all.

Alex asked. I sighed. “I can’t watch incomplete series. I have this weird thing about sad endings, so I need to know how it ends to watch it.” Alex turned his eyes at me. “Is that even real?” I nodded. “Yes, I know Titanic has a sad ending so never watched it. Even The fault in our stars. If I know the ending is sad, I can’t watch it.” “So this ending is happy?” “It’s not complete yet.” “So why are we watching it?”

Ninety miles to find graves that had been tended for three centuries. The moon was waning now—no longer blood-red, no longer swollen with power. Just a pale sliver in a black sky. But I could still feel it. Still feel the silver in my blood responding to something ancient. Something that had slept in my bloodline for generations, waiting for the right moment to wake. The cemetery was waiting too. And whatever was buried there—whatever Brian had been paying to hide—I was going to find it. Even if it destroyed everything. Even if it destroyed me.

"The human heart cannot beat fast enough to keep up with the ley. You are becoming a part of the grid, Catherine." She collapsed against a bookshelf, and the wood splintered under her touch. Her hunger was back, but it wasn't for food or even blood. It was for influence. She wanted to reach out and pull the life from the trees outside, to feel the manor’s stone breathe. Psychological Warfare: The Second Strike A sudden, sharp ping erupted from the tablet on the desk. A video began to play automatically. It wasn't a live feed. It was a high-resolution scan of a 17th-century journal—Catherine’s journal.

Or worse she had been alive all this time? I ran a hand through my hair and turned the car toward Liam’s mansion. He would be alone at this hour. Drinking drowning himself silently in the grief he never truly escaped. A ritual he had followed for the last five years. His own way of soothing a heart that never healed. And for the first time in years I found myself terrified that the past we had buried might not be buried at all. By the time I reached Liam’s mansion, it was already past midnight. The entire place was silent, just like always.

Ethan snapped, "What for? So you can make him kneel and beg you?" She broke down and desperately pleaded. "I'm begging you, Ethan. I know everything now, so please just tell me." Her every sob felt like a knife was twisting in my chest. Finally, with a bitter sneer, Ethan gave her my address. "He's at the suburban cemetery." The moment she heard it, she scrambled to her feet, only to collapse onto the pavement. Her legs had gone numb from sitting too long. She dragged herself up, flagged down a cab, and headed straight over.

A dull ache pulsed in my chest, but I had become numb to it long ago. Feeling annoyed at my silence, Adrian's frown deepened as he strode toward me. Just then, Peggy darted forward and snatched the urn from my arms. "What's this box you're carrying? It's exquisite. I could use a new jewelry case!" Horror jolts through me, my eyes widening and my veins tightening as a desperate scream tears out of my throat. "Give it back!" I lunged for the urn. Adrian immediately stepped in front of Peggy and drove his foot into my chest.

Emily approached, and the blade in her hand began to glow. Not bright. But steady. The slab was no mere artifact—it was a binding. A place where one of the First was tethered, long before even Varethkaal whispered from the trees. And buried beneath the slab, she could feel it: the Buried Heart. The source of the seed. Not the piece that had infected Drift. But its origin. The fragment left behind when the others were bound, cut from the one who bore the spiral. Her hands trembled. “Clara will need this,” she said aloud, “whether she knows it or not.”