The island never slept.
Even in the hours before dawn—when the sea held its breath and the sky turned the color of old bruises—something beneath the ground stayed awake, listening. The wind crept low between palm trunks like it was afraid of being overheard. The waves didn't crash; they whispered.
Matt felt it before he understood it.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, bare feet sinking into cold sand, his chest tight like something invisible had wrapped around his ribs and pulled. The island was not hostile. But it was not gentle either.
It knew him.
Ferus watched him from a distance, leaning against the crooked wooden post that marked the boundary of the old estate. He had grown up here—ran through these trees as a boy, bled on these rocks, buried secrets where the roots grew thick—but this was the first time he had seen the island react to someone else.
Especially someone like Matt.
"You feel it," Ferus said quietly.
Matt didn't turn. His eyes were fixed on the water, where the moon fractured into silver shards across the surface.
"It feels like… memory," Matt said. "Like the ground is breathing."
Ferus swallowed.
"That's because it is."
THE HERO WHO STOLE LAND FROM DEATH
They walked inland as the sun began to rise. Ferus led, cutting through brush, pushing aside hanging vines, following a path that wasn't marked but remembered. The trees grew thicker here, older. Their roots twisted above ground like knuckles frozen mid-fight.
"This island wasn't bought," Ferus began. "It wasn't inherited the normal way either."
Matt listened, every word sinking deep.
"My grandfather—Leonardo Ferucci—wasn't always a Don. Before Italy. Before blood. Before the name meant anything… he was a soldier."
Ferus stopped near a clearing where stone ruins lay half-swallowed by moss. A circle. Burn marks etched deep into the rock.
"He was sent here during the war. Everyone else died."
Matt frowned. "Everyone?"
Ferus nodded. "Ship burned. Crew slaughtered. Locals disappeared. The island was supposed to be cursed—plagued by sickness, madness, storms. Men came and never returned."
"So how did he survive?"
Ferus looked at the stones.
"He didn't run."
The wind shifted.
"They say something lived here back then. Not a monster the way kids imagine—something older. Smarter. Something that fed on fear and loyalty. It offered him a deal."
Matt's pulse quickened. "What kind of deal?"
Ferus met his eyes. "Protection. Power. Legacy."
Matt's jaw tightened.
"And the cost?"
Ferus exhaled slowly.
"Bloodlines."
The word sat heavy between them.
"My grandfather refused at first. Fought it. Nearly died. But when the island began to sink—when the sea rose and the ground cracked—he made a counter-offer."
Matt leaned forward unconsciously.
"He would guard the island," Ferus said. "Keep it hidden. Feed it silence. In exchange, it would spare his blood… as long as they never betrayed each other."
Matt felt cold.
"So people want this island because—"
"Because it remembers," Ferus finished. "And because if you control it, it doesn't just protect you. It erases your enemies."
Matt stepped back.
"That's why they killed my family," he whispered.
Ferus didn't deny it.
TWO DAYS OF FALSE PEACE
The men returned exactly two days later.
Matt knew before he saw them.
The birds vanished first. The wind stilled. The island's breathing changed—faster now, sharper. Ferus was sharpening a blade when he froze.
"They're back," he said.
Matt's hands clenched. "How many?"
"Too many."
They moved fast.
Ferus shoved a small pack into Matt's chest. "Listen to me. There's a trail past the southern ridge. You run. No matter what you hear."
Matt shook his head. "I'm not leaving you."
Ferus grabbed his shoulders hard. "Matt. Family doesn't mean dying together. It means surviving for each other."
Footsteps echoed through the trees.
Voices. Italian. Calm. Professional.
"They won't kill me," Ferus said, forcing a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "They need leverage."
Matt's throat burned.
"And if they don't?"
Ferus leaned in, forehead touching Matt's.
"Then remember me standing."
THE CATCH
The first shot wasn't aimed to kill.
It tore into the dirt inches from Ferus' foot.
"FERUCCI!" a voice called. "Step away from the boy."
Matt bolted.
He ran until his lungs screamed, until branches tore at his skin and the world blurred. Behind him—shouting. Then a single sound that froze his blood.
Ferus yelling his name.
Then silence.
Matt collapsed behind a rock outcropping, choking back a sob. He didn't see Ferus fall. He didn't see him stand either.
That was worse.
DON LEONARDO'S MESSAGE
That night, far across the sea, Don Leonardo Ferucci read the report in silence.
One survivor confirmed. Male. Teenage. Bloodline unknown.
Leonardo folded the paper carefully.
"So," he murmured, "the island chose."
His men waited.
"Bring the boy," Leonardo said. "Alive."
A pause.
"And Ferus?"
Leonardo's eyes hardened.
"If he lives… he will wish he hadn't."