Aria’s POV
Elena’s revelation didn’t come easily.
The doctor insisted on treating her shoulder before anyone asked another question, and I spent the better part of an hour pacing outside her room while Romanov coordinated the aftermath of the attack with the same relentless focus he brought to everything, leaving me alone with a question I couldn’t stop turning over.
How close to home.
When the doctor finally allowed us in, Elena sat propped against a mountain of pillows, her shoulder wrapped tight, exhaustion carved into every line of her face.
“Tell us,” Romanov said, no preamble, no patience left for careful pacing.
“The man from the photograph,” Elena said. “His name is Anton Voss.”
The room went very still.
“Voss,” I repeated. “That’s—”
“My father’s brother,” Elena said quiet
