Bound by the Blood

HUNTED

POV: Sasha

---

Three days.

Three days in the safe house. Three days of waiting. Three days of Marco's eyes on me, watching, assessing, never quite trusting.

I didn't blame him.

I didn't trust myself either.

---

Day one, we mapped Dmitri's network. Every safe house I'd ever visited. Every soldier I'd ever met. Every weakness I'd ever noted. Marco wrote it all down, sent it to Antonio, waited for orders.

Day two, we trained. The basement had a punching bag, old but solid. We sparred for hours, neither of us pulling punches. He was stronger. I was faster. We were evenly matched.

"You've done this before," he said, after I swept his legs and pinned him.

"Once or twice."

"Liar."

He flipped us, pinned me back. His face inches from mine.

"Tell me something true," he said.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Of what happens when this is over. Of what you'll see when you look at me without the mission in the way."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he kissed me – hard, desperate, like he was trying to memorize the taste of me.

"I see you," he said. "That's all I've ever seen."

---

Day three, the call came.

Not from Antonio.

From Ivan.

I stared at the phone, his name flashing on the screen. Marco looked up from the table.

"Who is it?"

"My brother."

"Answer it. Speaker."

I pressed accept.

"Sasha." Ivan's voice was smooth, familiar, dangerous. "You've been busy."

"Ivan."

"Father would be so proud. His favorite daughter, cozying up to the enemy. Choosing love over family."

"Father is dead."

"His legacy isn't. Dmitri sends his regards. He wants you to know – there's nowhere you can hide. No one who can protect you. He will find you. And when he does, he will make you wish you'd never been born."

"Tell Dmitri I'm not afraid of him."

"Liar." Ivan laughed, soft and cruel. "You've always been afraid. Of him. Of me. Of yourself. That's why you ran. That's why you're hiding in that sad little house in Queens."

My blood went cold. He knew where we were.

Marco was already moving, grabbing bags, signaling me to end the call.

"Tick tock, sister," Ivan said. "He's already on his way."

The line went dead.

"Go," Marco said. "Now."

---

We ran.

Out the back door, through the alley, into a car Marco had stashed two blocks away. He drove fast, reckless, running red lights.

Behind us, the safe house exploded.

I watched the fireball rise in the rearview mirror, felt the shockwave rock the car.

"Seatbelt," Marco said.

I buckled in.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere he won't find us."

"How do you know?"

He glanced at me. "Because I haven't told you yet."