Bound by the Blood

THE SCARS

POV: Marco

---

She slept in my arms that night.

I didn't.

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word. My father was Viktor Petrov. The man who murdered my family. The man whose face haunted my nightmares for eighteen years. And his daughter had been in my bed. In my head. In my heart.

I should have been sick. Should have been furious. Should have thrown her out the moment she said his name.

Instead, I held her closer.

What the hell was wrong with me?

---

She woke at dawn, the way she always did. Her eyes found mine immediately – wary, waiting.

"You didn't sleep," she said.

"No."

"Are you going to throw me out now?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No." She sat up, pulled the sheet around herself. "But I wouldn't blame you if you did."

I sat up too, faced her. "I'm not going to throw you out, Sasha. Alexandra. Whoever you are."

"It's Sasha. Sasha's who I became. Sasha's who I want to be."

"Sasha." I tested the name. "The woman who lied to me."

"The woman who chose you." She held my eyes. "I know that doesn't erase what I did. I know it doesn't make up for the lies. But it's the truth."

The truth.

I'd spent eighteen years building walls because of her father. And now his daughter was sitting in my bed, asking me to trust her.

"You said Dmitri sent you," I said. "What does he want?"

"Revenge. Territory. Power. The same thing Viktor wanted." She pulled her knees to her chest. "He wants the Matteo empire to crumble. He wants Antonio dead. He wants everyone who ever crossed Viktor to pay."

"And you were supposed to make that happen."

"Yes."

"What changed?"

She looked at me. "You."

I wanted to believe her. Every instinct told me to walk away – to protect myself, to protect Antonio, to protect everything I'd built. But I'd spent eighteen years walking away. I was tired.

"Tell me everything," I said. "From the beginning. No more lies."

She took a breath. Nodded.

And for the next hour, she told me her story.

---

She was seven when her mother died. Murdered by a rival family, Viktor said. But she never knew for sure. Her father was cold, controlling, brutal. He trained her to be a weapon – first in self-defense, then in assassination.

"No childhood," she said. "No friends. Just lessons. Just missions."

She was fifteen when she killed her first man. A rival soldier, sent to kill Viktor. She stopped him before he got close.

"I didn't feel anything. That's what scared me. Not that I could do it – but that I didn't care."

Six years ago, she faked her own death. Escaped Viktor's control, built a new life, tried to forget who she was.

But Viktor found her. Dmitri found her. And they gave her a choice: infiltrate the Matteos, or watch her brother die.

"Your brother," I said. "The man from the cafe."

"Nadia. He's not –" She stopped. "He's not my brother. He's my handler. Dmitri uses him to control me."

"Then who's your brother?"

She was quiet for a long moment. "Ivan. Ivan Petrov. Viktor's son. Dmitri's puppet."

"The man Antonio let go last year."

"Yes."

"He's here. In New York."

"He's here. And he's the reason Dmitri knows everything I do."

I stood, paced the room. "So Dmitri has eyes on you. Ears. He knows about us?"

"I don't know. I've been careful. But Ivan – he's unpredictable. He might have told Dmitri everything. He might be keeping it to himself, waiting to use it."

"You're telling me your own brother is a wild card."

"He's not my brother. He's my half-brother. And he hates me as much as he loves me."

I stopped pacing, turned to face her.

"You need to go to Antonio."

"What?"

"You need to tell him everything. The way you told me. He deserves to know."

"He'll kill me."

"He might." I crossed to her, took her hands. "But he might not. And either way, I'll be there."

She stared at me. "After everything I did – you'd stand beside me?"

"I told you. You're not alone anymore."

She kissed me then – not desperate, not demanding. Grateful. Hopeful.

I held her and hoped I wasn't making the biggest mistake of my life.

---

An hour later, we walked into Antonio's office.

Sofia was there too, sitting beside her husband, her hand in his. She looked up when we entered, saw our faces, and went pale.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Sit down," Marco said. "Sasha has something to tell you."

Sasha looked at me. I nodded.

She turned to Antonio.

"My name is Alexandra Petrovna Volkov," she said. "Viktor Petrov was my father."

The room went cold.

Antonio's hand moved toward his waistband. Sofia grabbed his arm.

"Wait," Sofia said. "Let her finish."

Sasha took a breath and told them everything.

The mission. Dmitri. Ivan. The choice she'd made.

When she finished, the silence was absolute.

Antonio looked at me. "You knew?"

"I found out last night."

"And you brought her here? To my home?"

"I brought her here because she chose us. Because she's been feeding Dmitri false information for weeks. Because without her, we wouldn't have known about half his operations."

Antonio stood. Walked to the window. Stood with his back to us, the way I had last night.

"Leave us," he said.

"Antonio—"

"Leave us, Marco. I need to talk to her alone."

I looked at Sasha. She nodded.

I walked out. Sofia followed.

The door closed behind us.