Chapter 4 Bloodlines

The garden was nothing like Alina expected.

High stone walls circled a labyrinth of marble paths and rose-covered trellises. A fountain gurgled softly in the center, shaped like a lion with a sword between its jaws. It was a place meant for peace, yet every breath she took here felt like borrowed air.

Damian waited by the fountain.

He wasn't wearing his usual suit-just a white shirt rolled at the sleeves, black slacks, and polished shoes that somehow didn't pick up a speck of dust. In daylight, he looked less like a villain and more like a man caught between wars-one in the world, and one within himself.

Alina approached, arms folded.

"Alright, Moretti," she said. "You promised answers."

He motioned to a stone bench. "Sit."

She hesitated, then sat. Not because he told her to-but because she needed to hear what he wouldn't say last night.

"Start talking."

Damian took a breath. "You ever wonder why you were really taken? Why I didn't just marry some woman who'd say yes?"

"Because you're insane?"

A hint of amusement flickered across his face. "No. Because of your bloodline. Your grandfather wasn't just a cartel leader. He was the last man who could control the Cruz territory-ports, smuggling routes, and allies in Mexico and southern Spain. When he died, the Cruz legacy was meant to die with him. But it didn't."

He looked at her.

"It passed to you."

Alina shook her head. "That's ridiculous. I'm not part of any of that."

"You are by birth. That's enough for the old families."

She stared at him. "So this is about land? Control? Smuggling routes?"

"This is about legitimacy," Damian said. "You're the key to uniting two bloodlines-Cruz and Moretti. It's symbolic. And political. If I marry you, the remaining Cruz allies fall in line. They see me as the heir to Salvatore Cruz's empire, not just Moretti's."

She leaned back. "You're using me."

"I'm surviving."

"By forcing a marriage based on a deal made before I was born?"

Damian's voice hardened. "You think this is about romance? About choice? In this world, we are currency. Blood is worth more than gold. A name can buy you an army. And yours is worth more than you realize."

Alina's fingers gripped the edge of the bench. "I don't want any of it."

"That doesn't matter. It's already in motion."

She looked at him, her voice low. "Why me, Damian? Why not someone easier to control?"

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then he said, "Because you're not easy to control."

She blinked.

"You fight," he continued. "You resist. That's the kind of woman who survives in my world. And whether you believe it or not, I don't want a wife who bows. I want one who burns."

Alina's breath caught.

She didn't want to be moved by his words-but she was. Because beneath the layers of strategy and shadows, there was truth in his voice. Pain. Maybe even respect.

Damian stood.

"I'll show you something."

She followed him through the garden to a smaller stone building tucked behind the trees. He unlocked the door with a brass key from his pocket.

Inside was a room filled with glass cases and framed documents. It looked like a museum-except every item was marked with the Moretti or Cruz crest.

Damian walked to a large display and pulled down a velvet curtain.

Behind it, a photo.

Two men-one older, one younger-shaking hands over a burning oil drum. They looked like soldiers, not businessmen. Both were bloodied. Both were smiling.

"That's your grandfather and my father," Damian said. "They made the blood vow that night. After killing the man who tried to betray them both."

Alina stepped closer.

Her grandfather looked nothing like she remembered from the few photos her father had hidden. This man was brutal. Alive with danger.

Damian pointed to a charred document inside a frame below the photo.

"That's the contract," he said. "Your name was written in it before you were born. My father wrote: 'To bind the house of Cruz to the house of Moretti, we promise daughter to son. Blood to blood.'"

Alina stepped back, her heart racing.

"This is sick," she whispered. "Like I was sold before I could walk."

"Yes," Damian said. "Welcome to the truth."

She turned to face him. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Because you need to understand the weight of the world you've inherited. This is bigger than you or me. It always was."

He walked past her, toward the door.

"And because I promised no lies."

Alina followed him out silently, the door locking behind them.

She wasn't sure what disturbed her more-the history Damian had shown her...

...or the fire it sparked in her.

For the first time, she didn't want to run.

She wanted to take control.