Assigned to Her [Mafioso Book#4]

Chapter XX: Turmoil

 Marco stood with tar-like blood swimming through his system, ears ringing, and body numb. The words were spoken repeating themselves like a broken tape recorder in his head. Salvatore blocking his way to Nikolai.

"Your name is Aleksander Romanov, and you are my son,"

If he were to believe what this man was saying, then that meant that he was a Romanov. Heir to a disgraced Mafia. His name was Aleksander and not Marco, and he was Russian-born. Ironic how his heritage came from the place whose history Marco had been obsessed with. Not only that, but he didn't speak a lick of the language. And if he had just heard was true then that man – that murderer – was his father.

"Come with me," Nikolai urged, beckoning him forward and ignoring all the guns aimed at him. "Come with me, Aleksander, and we will talk, I tell you everything," He resumed in his incomprehensible Russian accent that had Marco's head pounding, blinding flashes of pain surging from the top of his head down to the base of his neck.

"Come, Aleksander,"

"Salvatore..." Marco turned his gaze to the rigid structure of the man before him, Salvatore's back to him but from where he stood, Marco could see the gentle tremors coursing through the guns clasped in his hands. "I...let's go,"

Barking something in Italian to his men, they all filed out, meeting Nikolai's words with a deaf ear while the Alcuri and Regnante guards intercepted his way to prevent him from following them. Moving back once their superiors were settled in their cars and had left the premise.

Neither Salvatore nor Marco said a word as they drove down the empty stretch of road, trees on one side and a snow-covered field on the other. Bile rising up Marco's throat as he squirmed in his seat and turned to tell Salvatore to stop the car, but his words froze to see his brother's hand still grasping the gun on the thigh, finger twitching over the trigger and gaze on the window beside him.

Marco's heart fell at the sight of the loaded weapon in his brother's hands, knowing that first and foremost, he was the Regnante Mafia Boss and his duty was to his family. Not to adopted Romanov's.

Tears blurring his eyes at the realization that knocked out the air from his lungs.

"Stop the car," Salvatore ordered.

The vehicle coming to an instant halt that had Marco's heart jump to his throat. His breath laboring as he looked around him, finding them in the middle of nowhere and then the blood drained from his face to see their entourage of cars leave them behind.

With blown pupils and a heaving chest, Marco turned towards his brother and froze to see him step out of the vehicle. Closing the door with a slam, and the locks clicking into place even before Marco had the chance to turn to his door. Knowing that there was no point in trying to open them because they wouldn't budge.

His fingers trembled as he looked at his brother's back from the window, watching him lower the gun to his side and walk out onto the snow-covered field, his figure getting enveloped by darkness as one guard followed him at a safe distance and the other stood against the side of the car. Eyes where the Mafia Boss and his partner had disappeared.

Marco jumped in his seat to see the spark of light followed by the thunderous roar of a bullet.

Again and again and again and again.

The assault of sound stopping for a second before resuming with the same fervor it had begun with. Marco's heart dropping to his feet to hear the scream ricochet across the field and bounce back to him. The youngest shuffling uncomfortably in his seat, fingers grasping the handle and leg bouncing as he had his face pressed to the tinted glass, breath stuttering in his throat to see two figures make their way back to them.