Page 49 of Ruthless God

She huffs, sinking back into her seat, clearly unconvinced.

But in the glass's reflection, I catch something else. Curiosity, maybe. Because no matter how much she glares at me, no matter how much she complains… she wants to know where we’re going.

“What does Isola Ombrafiore mean?” Cecely asks, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Rusty on your Italian?”

She rolls her eyes. “I never learned.”

“Pity.” I turn my attention back to the horizon. “It means Shadow-flower Island.”

Her brows furrow. “What does that even mean?”

“The Ombrafiore is the island’s native flower. The locals call it ‘Lacrima della Luna’or Moon’s Tear.”

She tilts her head slightly, intrigued despite herself. “Moon’s Tear?”

“It only grows at night, in the shadows of the volcano.”

Or used to, a long, long time ago.

Her eyes widen, any pretense of disinterest vanishing in an instant.

“There’s a volcano?”

I suppress a chuckle. “Again, island.”

“You conveniently left out the part where it’s a volcanic island.”

“You didn’t ask.”

She leans forward slightly, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to concern. “Is it an active volcano?”

I let the silence stretch, just long enough to see her shoulders tense.

Then, finally, I say, “Not currently.”

Her breath hitches. “That is not comforting.”

I grin, keeping my hands steady on the controls. “Then don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“This just keeps getting better.”

I chuckle, tilting the chopper slightly as we approach our destination. She has no idea just how right she is.

I point ahead. “There’s the island.”

Cecely leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the view.

Isola Ombrafiore emerges from the sea like a myth brought to life—a place few even know exists. It’s been called the hidden jewel of the Tyrrhenian Sea, but that’s only by the rare handful of people who have ever seen it.

Secluded. Untouched. Wild in a way that masks the dangers beneath.

Dark cliffs rise dramatically from the turquoise sea, the jagged rocks shaped by time and tides. Above them, Monte Silente, the dormant volcano, looms, shrouded in thick evergreen forests. Waterfalls cascade down its slopes, disappearing into shadowed caves that snake beneath the land like secrets waiting to be uncovered.

But the real secrets lie even deeper.

Beneath the island, a network of underground lava tubes winds through the earth, forming crystal caverns that shimmer in eerie shades of blue and violet, glowing like something out of a dream—or a nightmare.

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