BLOODLINES OF BETRAYAL AND BURNING NEED

Luca’s POV

The ravine offered temporary sanctuary cold stream water lapping at our boots, moonlight fractured through the canopy above. Dante, Rocco, and I crouched in a tight circle, breaths visible in the chill, bodies pressed close for warmth and something far more primal. Sofia’s voice had gone quiet in the comm after her last revelation, but the weight of her words lingered: Alexei Volkov wasn’t just a handler. He was her father. And the secrets ran deeper than blood.

Dante broke the silence first, voice low and edged. “Tell us everything she didn’t. If we’re going after her, we need the full picture.”

Rocco shifted beside me, his massive frame radiating heat. His hand rested on my thigh—casual, possessive—thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric of my pants. The touch sent sparks up my spine, reigniting the fire from earlier. I swallowed, trying to focus.

“Sofia said Alexei was KGB,” I started, piecing together fragments from her comm bursts and the files I’d glimpsed in the vault drive. “But he wasn’t just any officer. He was part of Department V—the poison and assassination unit. Wet affairs. He ran black ops across Europe in the ‘80s, specializing in untraceable kills. Mom… she met him during one of Dad’s trips to Berlin. Dad was there to launder Soviet money—old KGB slush funds from Afghanistan and Cuba. Mom was the translator. They had an affair. Sofia was conceived in a safehouse on the Spree River.”

Dante’s jaw clenched. “And Alexei knew?”

“He always knew,” I said. “Mom never told Dad. Alexei let it go—partly because he respected the secrecy, partly because Dad’s skimming gave him leverage. When Dad started taking bigger cuts, Alexei activated the hit. But he kept tabs on Sofia. Watched her grow up through cutouts. When she started digging after the accident, he didn’t recruit her—he claimed her. Trained her as his heir. The KGB remnants he controlled—labs in Siberia, accounts in Cyprus, sleeper agents in every major city—they were supposed to pass to her when he died.”

Rocco’s hand slid higher, fingers brushing the growing bulge in my pants. “And the betrayal?”

“She turned on him,” I whispered, voice catching as Rocco squeezed lightly. “Used his own poisons against him. Slipped something into his vodka during their last meeting. He died thinking she was loyal. But she kept everything—his accounts, his network, his secrets. Including the offshore ledgers Dad had hidden. Billions in frozen Soviet assets, now hers.”

Dante’s eyes darkened. “So Sofia isn’t just avenging our parents. She’s inheriting an empire older than any of ours.”

Rocco’s other hand cupped the back of my neck, pulling me closer until our foreheads touched. “Then we take it from her.”

The tension snapped—erotic, unbearable. Rocco’s mouth claimed mine first—rough, demanding, tasting of smoke and blood. Dante growled low, possessive, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed against my back, hands sliding under my shirt, pinching my nipples hard enough to make me gasp into Rocco’s kiss.

“Both of you,” I breathed when they broke apart. “I need both.”

Dante’s hand slid down, palming my cock through my pants. “Then you get both.”

They moved as one—coordinated, primal. Rocco yanked my shirt off; Dante shoved my pants down, exposing me to the cold night air. I knelt between them on the damp ground, hands braced on their thighs. They freed their cocks—both massive, both hard, both leaking for me.

“Suck,” Dante ordered.

I took him first—deep, gagging on his length while Rocco stroked my hair, guiding me. Then I switched—Rocco’s thicker girth stretching my lips, his hand fisting my curls. They took turns fucking my mouth—slow, then fast—choking me in tandem, hands on my throat, controlling every breath.

“You’re perfect like this,” Rocco rumbled, voice thick. “Between us. Ours.”

Dante pulled me up, spinning me to face him. He lifted one of my legs, hooking it over his hip, and thrust in—raw, deep, claiming. I cried out; Rocco pressed against my back, cock sliding between my cheeks, grinding while Dante pounded.

“Feel us both,” Dante growled, biting my shoulder. “No one else gets this.”

Rocco’s hand wrapped my cock—stroking in time with Dante’s thrusts. They edged me mercilessly—bringing me to the brink, then stopping, denying, until I sobbed between them.

“Please,” I begged. “Let me come.”

“Not yet,” Rocco murmured against my ear. “We decide.”

Dante thrust harder, hitting my prostate relentlessly. Rocco’s fingers joined—two sliding in alongside Dante’s cock, stretching me impossibly. The double penetration burned, overwhelmed—pain and pleasure fusing into something shattering.

“Now,” Dante commanded. “Come for us.”

Orgasm tore through me—violent, blinding, cum shooting across Dante’s stomach. My walls clenched; they followed—Dante filling me deep, Rocco spilling hot across my back.

We collapsed together in the mud, panting, entwined.

But the moment shattered.

Sofia’s voice cut through the comm again—cold, final. “You three look cozy. But the offshore accounts Rocco promised? They’re already mine. I drained them last week.”

Rocco tensed. “Impossible.”

“Not impossible,” she said. “I had the codes. Alexei’s last gift—before I killed him.”

The drone overhead blinked faster. Eclipse in T-minus five.

Sofia continued, “And the nuclear codes? Viktor never had them. I do. And I’m about to sell them to the highest bidder—unless you come to me. All three of you. Submit. Or watch the world burn.”

The line went dead.

Dante pulled me closer, protective, possessive. Rocco’s hand tightened on my shoulder—alliance forged in fire and flesh.

We had minutes.

And the choice was no longer about revenge.

It was about survival and who we’d kneel to when the dust settled.