Ch 48: Collateral Blood
Arlo's cabin was warmer than the corridor. The room smelled faintly of bergamot—a gentleman's scent, out of place in the rust and salt of the ship.
Elena sat on the edge of his bed, her feet on the worn wooden floor.
Arlo retrieved a first aid kit from a small cabinet bolted to the wall. Then he knelt in front of her and opened the tin, removing a roll of bandages, a small bottle of antiseptic, and a clean cloth. He reached for her bleeding foot.
Elena pulled back. Her hand came up between them, palm out.
‘Stop. I'll do it myself,’ she mouthed.
His brow lifted a fraction, but he didn't argue, leaving the kit open beside her.
Elena peeled the shredded remnants of her stocking from her skin. She pressed an antiseptic cloth to the cut on her foot and winced, but her hands never faltered.
Arlo watched her. He was still on one knee, his dark eyes tracking her movements.
When she finished, she set the remaining bandages aside and looked up. ‘Who are you, really?'
He pushed off the floor and crossed to the porthole, staring out at the distant harbor lights. The ship creaked around them, in rhythm with the steady rock of the water. Outside the porthole, the distant lights blurred and reformed. His reflection in the glass was pale and hollow, a ghost superimposed over the glittering shoreline.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost reluctant. "My name is Alessandro Conti. Only son of Don Emilio Conti."
Elena stilled. After her conversation with Valli, she had suspected that Arlo was connected to the Conti family. But the heir?
Her mind raced, piecing together the implications. If Don Emilio ever tried to betray Dante, Dante could expose Alessandro's role. By placing Alessandro inside the Volkov household, Dante had done more than secure a spy: he had taken the Conti family's future hostage.
Alessandro turned from the porthole. The lamplight carved shadows under his eyes
"Three years ago," he continued, "my father made a pact with Dante Moretti. Dante would help the Conti family expand into Volkov territory. In exchange, I was to infiltrate Kazimir's household, earn their trust, and assist when Dante made his move."
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
'Why did he agree?' Elena asked, frowning.
Alessandro's jaw tightened. "My father was greedy. Dante offered him a share of the Zurich properties. My father wanted a piece of that empire, and he was willing to trade his own son to get it."
Elena looked at him—at the exhaustion carved into his face, the weight in his shoulders. From the very beginning, he had walked into Kazimir's house knowing he was both spy and hostage.
'You had opportunities to leave.’ Elena mouthed, watching his expression. ‘Why did you stay?'
He didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted to the photograph on the desk—a silver frame half-hidden behind a stack of worn books.
Three men stood in what looked like the mansion's back garden. Nikolai at the center, a boyish smile on his stern features. Timothy mid-laugh, head tilted back. And beside them, slightly apart, stood Alessandro—a rare smile on his usually emotionless face.
Alessandro stared at the image for a long moment. Then he reached out and turned the frame face-down. The soft click of silver against wood was the only sound.
He turned back to her, his expression suddenly stern. "The confrontation will happen tomorrow at the harbor. Valli sent word to Kazimir an hour ago. He'll get here by dawn.”
The words landed. The whole thing—her kidnapping, the ship, the journey to this harbor—had been for one goal: to draw Kazimir out.
'What are you going to do?' she mouthed.
Elena searched his face for hesitation, regret. She found nothing.
'So you still chose to follow orders,' she mouthed, the words sharp.
“Mrs. Volkov. I'm on your side."
'Then help me escape. Before it's too late.'
Alessandro shook his head slowly. "I can't go back now. If I do, it would all be for nothing. Every lie. Everyone I've betrayed." He paused, voice barely a whisper. "It has to mean something."
'Then what good are you?' She scowled, glaring at him.
He flinched—something raw and wounded flickered behind his eyes. Then he turned back to the porthole.
"Nikolai used to say something: Family isn't blood. It's who you bleed for." A bitter chuckle. "I didn't understand until now."
Elena stared at his back, baffled.
He turned to face her. "When this is over, tell Nikolai I'm sorry."
'Arlo—'
"Alessandro." He corrected. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "My name is Alessandro."
She stared at him, throat tight. She knew she couldn't convince him; he had already made his choice.
Alessandro walked to the door and paused, his hand stilling on the latch. His head bowed.
"Rest. Tomorrow will be difficult," he said.
Then he was gone. The door closed softly behind him, the lock engaging.
Elena sat in the warm cabin, his words pressing down on her chest. Outside the porthole, the harbor lights glittered, promising the confrontation to come.
Last edited by Feiya Phia 5/19/26