The One Who Waited

The cab ride was silent. Jessica sat in the backseat, arms folded, her gaze locked on the shifting lights of the city as they moved through the narrow streets of Rome. Leanna was beside her, quiet but alert, her fingers tapping absently against her knee. Olivia sat on Jessica’s other side, scrolling through her phone, searching for anything she could find about Sant’Antonio.

She found nothing. No recent records. No mentions in the Vatican archives. It was as if the place had been forgotten, erased, just like the man they were hunting.

Jessica exhaled, fingers tightening against her jacket sleeve. She could feel it now. That familiar weight in her chest. The one that came right before she walked into something she might not survive.

* * *

Sant’Antonio stood at the edge of the city, past the bustling piazzas and tourist-laden streets. It had once been beautiful. Now, it was crumbling. The façade was cracked and weathered, with vines creeping over the old stone walls. The windows were dark, their stained glass long since shattered. The door stood slightly ajar, the heavy wooden panels warped by time.

Jessica stepped out of the cab, her boots crunching against the gravel path. The street behind them was empty, almost too empty. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. They definitely weren’t alone.

Leanna scanned the perimeter. “You feel that?”

Jessica nodded. “Yeah.”

Olivia pulled out her phone, snapping a quick photo of the entrance. “I hate this already.”

Jessica smirked faintly. “Then you’re gonna love what comes next.”

She stepped forward and pushed the door open. The hinges groaned in protest. And then they were inside. The air was thick with dust and old stone. Jessica’s footsteps echoed against the floor as she moved down the central aisle, past rows of empty pews that had long since been abandoned.

A single shaft of moonlight spilled through the broken ceiling, illuminating the altar. And there, in the center of the light, someone was waiting.

Jessica stopped.

The man sat on a wooden bench near the altar, his posture relaxed, hands folded in his lap. He was old, but not ancient. His hair was silver, his features sharp but not unkind. His dark eyes flicked to Jessica, studying her with something between curiosity and recognition. A ghost wearing human skin.

Jessica felt something cold settle in her chest. She had spent the last week chasing his name across centuries. Now, he was here. And he had been expecting her.

The man exhaled softly, “You found me.”

His voice was smooth, his Italian accent light.

Jessica narrowed her eyes. “Took me long enough.”

The man gave a small smile. “No. You arrived exactly when you were meant to.”

Jessica’s jaw clenched. “That sounds a hell of a lot like fate.”

Iacopo tilted his head slightly. “Does it?”

Leanna stepped forward, arms crossed. “Let’s cut the riddles. We have questions.”

Iacopo’s gaze flicked to her, then Olivia, before returning to Jessica.

“You want to know why your name was in the archives.”

Jessica inhaled sharply. He already knew. She nodded once. Iacopo exhaled, leaning back against the pew.

“Because I have been waiting for you.”

Jessica’s pulse ticked up, “Waiting?”

Iacopo nodded. “For centuries.”

* * *

Jessica didn’t move. She just stared at him, her mind working through the weight of his words. For centuries. It was impossible. And yet, everything in her gut told her this wasn’t a lie.

She exhaled slowly. “Then tell me. Who are you?”

Iacopo studied her for a moment, then said,

“I was once a Templar. I was once a prisoner. I was once erased.” His gaze darkened, “And now, I am what is left.”

Jessica felt a chill run through her spine.

She kept her voice steady. “What does that mean?”

Iacopo smiled faintly. “It means that I know what you are.”

A hush fell over the conversation. A silence that was too heavy to be lifted. Jessica inhaled slowly, and could only force out a simple question, “And what’s that?”

Iacopo’s voice was calm. “A repetition.”

Jessica’s stomach twisted. She felt Leanna shift beside her, Olivia letting out a slow breath. Iacopo continued, his gaze steady.

“You are not the first, Jessica. You are not even the second.” His voice dropped lower. “You are part of something that has existed longer than even the Church itself.”

Jessica’s fingers curled into fists. She swallowed. She’d suspected she wasn’t the first. But hearing it spoken, not in a lab, not from a file, but from the mouth of a man history had tried to kill landed differently. It felt like being named. Or condemned.

“Project Lazarus?”

Iacopo shook his head slowly. “No.” and then after a short pause, he added, “Lazarus was just an imitation.”

Jessica felt the room tilt slightly. Olivia let out a quiet curse.

Leanna muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

Iacopo smiled faintly. “Closer than you think.”

Jessica exhaled, trying to steady her mind.

“Then tell me.” Her voice was low, sharp. “What the hell am I?”

Iacopo held her gaze. , And then, finally he answered.