Blood Ties and Broken Vows

WEB OF LIES

The house was quiet, but not peaceful.

It was the kind of silence that made your skin crawl—too deep, too rehearsed. Something was being hidden, and I intended to find out what.

I’d learned to investigate and read silences long ago, back when “summer camp” meant CIA conditioning and playing spy was literal. You don’t get trained by the Agency and forget how to eavesdrop.

I walked barefoot past the grand staircase, letting muscle memory guide my steps to Julian’s study. His voice was muffled behind the thick oak door, but years of surveillance drills had taught me how to work with less.

I crouched near the door’s edge, tilted my ear just right, and pressed gently on a hidden panel in the molding that carried echoes through the old wallwork—an old trick Falco once showed me when we were kids playing detective while Julian was abroad.

Inside, I could hear Marco.

“He’s getting too close. Someone’s feeding him intel.”

Julian’s voice followed, flat but sharp. “Then we cut the leak. I want it clean. No mess. And check Asha’s room. She’s been… curious.”

My stomach dropped.

“She might not know anything,” Marco offered.

“Doesn’t matter,” Julian snapped. “I don’t like her eyes. Too much going on behind them.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

I leaned back, heart thudding. Time to move. I turned to slip away—

Creak.

Damn floorboard. I froze.

Inside, chairs scraped. Footsteps.

“Marco,” Julian said smoothly. “Our little mouse is listening.”

I bolted, but it was too late. A hand clamped around my arm, dragging me back with practiced force.

“Midnight jog?” Marco sneered.

I forced my voice to stay steady. “Just walking. Couldn’t sleep.”

Julian appeared in the hallway like a ghost conjured from rage and suspicion. His eyes swept me like I was already a corpse.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe,” I shot back, chin high. “I’ve been dragged into your little war. I have every right to know what’s going on.”

He stepped forward, so close I could smell the faint smoke and cologne on him. His voice dropped to a hiss.

“You have the right to shut your mouth, stay alive, and not get people killed. That’s it.”

The warning in his tone was unmistakable. I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Marco released me reluctantly, and I turned away with all the poise I could gather, even though my legs felt like jelly.

I made it back to my room and locked the door. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding. I was shaking—not from fear, but adrenaline. The itch to act, to fight, to do something was clawing up my throat.

I was about to grab my burner phone when—

Knock knock.

I spun around, eyes narrowing. I crept to the door and opened it just a sliver.

Falco —Julian’s most trusted houseboy since forever.

He held a silver tray with a covered plate and a bottle of water. His usual poker face was cracked, eyes softer, shoulders tense.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he said gently.

I stepped aside. He entered, placed the tray down on the table. I didn’t move.

He turned to me. “I delivered the note.”

My breath hitched. “That was you?”

He nodded. “Viktor wanted you to know he’s watching out for you. That he still… cares.”

Something splintered inside me.

My mind pulled backward, to when we were just kids hiding in the wine cellar, giggling behind stacks of crates. Falco, older and taller, played lookout while I wrote Viktor a letter in secret ink. Julian had been abroad for months in school. Falco was the one who let us meet in the courtyard under the orange tree.

Viktor had kissed my cheek that night. Said someday, we’d run away.

We were twelve. It still felt real.

Back in the present, I blinked hard.

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.

Falco shrugged. “I owe you. And Viktor. Julian… isn’t who he used to be.”

I didn’t respond. I walked to my desk, grabbed paper and pen, and wrote quickly:

“Midnight. Tomorrow. East park. Come alone.”

I folded the note and sealed it in an envelope.

“Give him this.”

Falco nodded, slipped it into his jacket. There was a heaviness in his expression, like he already knew how this might end.

As he opened the door, someone stood just outside.

Sophia.

Her lips curled, her eyes flicked from the tray to the envelope bulge in Falco’s coat. She said nothing—just smiled like a snake sunbathing.

Falco walked away without a word.

I met her gaze.

“Come to accuse me of something again?” I asked.

She entered the room like it belonged to her. “Just came to see how the bride was settling in. But I see you’re being… well cared for.”

“Jealous?” I smirked.

“Worried.” Her smile dropped. “You’re playing with fire, Asha. And you’re not flameproof.”

“What do you care?”

She moved closer, voice colder. “Because people who betray Julian don’t die quickly. And I don’t want to mop up your blood.”

She left before I could answer, but her words echoed in my skull.

Then—

Bang!

The gunshot ripped through the mansion.

I ran. Down the hallway, past startled staff, until I reached the atrium.

Falco lay slumped against the wall, blood staining his white shirt red.

I dropped to my knees beside him. His eyes fluttered, reaching for something—

The envelope.

But it was gone.

Julian stood over him, face carved from marble, gun still smoking. Marco nearby, hands trembling.

“He was the rat,” Julian said simply. “Feeding Viktor information. A shame.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The letter was gone.

They knew.

I was exposed.

And Viktor… Viktor was walking into a trap I’d set.

I didn’t even cry. There was no time. Only one thought raced through my mind:

I’m f****d.