The Curse Of Veneto 소설 & 이야기

Mancini's POV "It's hidden somewhere, Damn it" I cursed, I hated looking for things and even worse something as important as this, for the past few hours I had been looking nonstop for a document, I had remembered that my Father had made a deal with the Genovesse family, I wasn't sure what it was which is why I needed it.

“Not like this.” Valerio caught her as she stumbled. “You’re not dying here,” he said. “You promised.” “I keep my promises.” He lifted her into his arms as the team cleared the last level. The building erupted behind them. Flames shot skyward. Lucrezia had vanished. But this time, she hadn’t just left fire behind. She’d left a curse. — Back at the Vault, chaos reigned. Bruna prepped the medical bay. Matteo shouted into phones, summoning chemists, contacts, anyone who could identify the substance.

CATALINA’S PERSPECTIVE VERONA, ITALY The underground showroom’s lights were off, the last VIPs gone, leaving only the echo of their bids and the faint hum of wealth in the air. Dante and I sat in the study, the Verona estate quiet around us, a bottle of Barolo half-empty on the desk. His hand rested on my thigh, possessive, as I leaned against the desk, Nico’s tablet glowing with his latest intel on the Executioner.

“And fire doesn’t ask permission. It burns whether you want it or not.” Later, Matteo moved through the estate’s private archives. Dust swirled in the candlelight as he pulled a worn, leather-bound journal from a hidden recess, a relic older than any record of Vienna itself. The pages were brittle, filled with cramped script in a language that twisted across the margins. Symbols matched those Bianca and Luna had encountered in the fortress serpents, eclipses, crowns, and signs of sacrifice. “This is… older than anything I imagined,” Matteo murmured, flipping through the pages carefully. “The bloodline curse isn’t just a warning. It’s a cycle, marked in ink and ritual, generation after genera

His arms caught me before I hit the floor, the heat of him overwhelming, the iron grip of his hands forcing me against him as blood poured between us. “Elysia!” His voice was raw, guttural, half-human, half-wolf. “No. No, you don’t.” My vision blurred. I saw torches sway, wolves’ wide eyes, mouths frozen in shock. Someone muttered, “She’d rather die…” Another whispered, “The curse is real.” “I said quiet!” Danearo bellowed, his fury crashing over them. His hands pressed hard against the wound, but more blood welled through his fingers. His jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth would break.

“I mean… you’ve been through five Alphas and left one permanently howling at the moon. That’s gotta do something to a girl. Just trying to understand the, you know, mechanics.” “You want me to explain the mechanics of my curse?” I asked flatly. “If you’re comfortable,” he said with a shrug. “Or uncomfortable. I’m not picky.” “Ven.” Caelan’s voice held a warning now, quiet but sharp. “I’m just saying,” Ven went on, undeterred, “if I were cursed—which I’m not, thank the stars—I’d be all kinds of messed up. Emotionally. Spiritually. Sexually. I’d be trauma incarnate.”

Ancient and powerful: “Drogo Vealor. You were chosen to protect. To rule with balance. Yet you have spilled the blood of your fated mate. Intent does not cleanse the act. You raised your hand in vengeance. You chose wrath over mercy. You chose hatred over destiny. For this, you are cursed for eternity.” The force released me, and I felt the curse mark burning through my skin. Each cracks burned and stabbed like hell. Every part of me trembled and burned uncontrollably.

"Who else?" Lorenzo rasped, his voice like broken glass scraping through silence. "Luca Morano." The words hung between them, thick and heavy as blood. Daisy stood frozen beside Romeo, eyes wide, hand trembling over her mouth. "You're saying you place a new curse on luca and Alessia ?" "No," Lorenzo said bitterly, his lips curling. "He didn't curse her. The curse came for him. She's just the collateral." "What do you mean?" Daisy demanded.

"Because I found something at the Bodleian. Old texts from your time. Writings on spells, curses, witches. I have been working on them for days, trying to decipher them. And I think I have." He handed me a book, his notes marked in the margin. "I think what we felt when we kissed was not just us. It was the curse. Reacting to you. And to me." I blinked at him. "What do you mean?" He guided my eyes to the passage he had underlined and read, his voice low and steady. "It says: Only the kiss of true love, the union of fated souls, creates a ripple strong enough to shatter the curse." The words blurred. A cold that had nothing to do with the window crept up my spine. I let out a sudden, incredul

It was one of the reasons I kept him close and also, occasionally, one of the reasons I found him exhausting. I stopped walking. He stopped too, looking at me, waiting. "Have you noticed something?" I said. He frowned slightly. "What?" "The ground," I said. "That sound it makes. That deep, low vibration that runs through the floor of the east wing every few days." I looked at him. "It hasn't happened once since she arrived this morning." Riven was quiet for a second. "So?" he said, but his voice had lost some of its certainty. "So the stories are true," I said. "The curse was never one-sided. It was never just something the Vales carried. We carry our half of it too, and we need them to surv