"Nooooo!" his voice booms as a velvet shroud wraps around my consciousness and I go limp.

Chapter 36

Genoveva

I wake to the gentle caress of warm sunlight on my skin, at odds with the cold grip of death I last remember. Soft blades of grass tickle my back as I slowly open my eyes, blinking against the vibrant hues that flood my vision. A sea of delicious, fragrant emerald grass stretches as far as I can see, dotted with splashes of yellow and white.

"Gianni?" I whisper, my voice hoarse and uncertain.

His warm hand squeezes mine, and I turn to see his dark eyes watching me intently. "I'm here, amore mio," he murmurs, his eyes softened with relief to see me by his side.

We sit up together, our fingers still intertwined. The movement sends a cascade of rose petals tumbling from my hair. Daisies and sunflowers sway around us, their delicate dance hypnotic in the gentle breeze.

"Where are we?" I ask, unable to tear my gaze from the picturesque scene.

Gianni shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "I don't know. The last thing I remember is..."

He trails off, but I know. The gunfire, the knife, the desperate race against time. My heart races at the memory, but the panic feels distant now, muted by the serene beauty surrounding us.

This isn’t the underworld.

I trace soft circles on the back of Gianni's hand with my thumb, feeling the familiar calluses and scars. His touch grounds me, as it always has.

"Are we dead?" The words slip out before I can stop them.

Gianni's grip tightens. "If this is death, it's not what I expected," he says with a chuckle.

I laugh, the sound surprising me with its lightheartedness. "No hellfire and brimstone for the likes of us?"

Before he can respond, a butterfly with iridescent wings alights on Gianni's cheek, its delicate feet tickling his skin. His eyes widen in surprise, and I can't help but giggle at the sight of the fearsome Gianni Montagna caught off guard by something so small and fragile.

"What's so funny?" he growls, but there's no real heat in his words.

"Nothing," I say, still laughing. "You just look... adorable."

He scowls, but I can see the amusement dancing in his dark eyes. More butterflies join the first, swirling around us in a kaleidoscope of colors. One lands in my hair, its wings gently brushing against my ear.

"I think they like you," Gianni murmurs, reaching out to touch the butterfly perched on my head gently.

I close my eyes, savoring the moment. "I like them too," I whisper. "I like all of this."

We fall silent, content to bask in the peaceful beauty surrounding us. Part of me wants to question where we are, how we got here, and what it all means. But a larger part—the part that's been running and fighting for so long—just wants to let this moment last.

Suddenly, a shimmering light appears before us, so bright I instinctively shield my eyes. As the glow dims, I feel Gianni's hand tighten around mine.

My breath catches in my throat as the light gradually takes form, morphing into the most beautiful woman I've ever seen: golden hair braided long down her back with a few loose tendrils sweeping her cheeks, perfect pink bowed lips, creamy skin thatshimmers in the light and eyes so blue, that the ocean would feel inadequate in her presence.

"Venus," I whisper, my voice barely audible. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. It’s like she’s telling me who she is with her divine power without ever having said a word.

The goddess of love steps gracefully towards us, her presence so enchanting that I find myself rooted to the spot.

"Genoveva, Gianni," Venus greets us, her voice like a melody carried on the wind.

I glance at Gianni, searching his face for a reaction. But all I see is an enchanted man, as taken by her as I am. I can’t blame him when the goddess makes the flower orchards around us seem dull in comparison.

"I see you like being here, Gianni," Venus says, her knowing smile never wavering. "It's one of the things she loves about you. Your fondness for beauty."

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks as Venus's gaze falls on me, her eyes brimming with warmth and ancient wisdom. There's something in that look – a hint of approval, perhaps? – that makes me stand a little straighter.