Memories in Blood

Luca Romano POV

Blood sticks to my boots as I move through the east corridor. Some of it's mine from earlier, most belongs to the three Torrino soldiers who thought they could breach our home.

Isabella's touch broke something loose in my head. Fragments keep surfacing—a child's voice calling my name, small hands that glowed with warmth.

Luke, does it hurt?

I shake off the memory and focus. Two more hostiles somewhere in this wing. The scent of cordite hangs heavy in the air, mixing with expensive cologne from a dead man three rooms back.

A floorboard creaks overhead. Guest wing, second floor.

I take the stairs without sound, weapon ready. My shoulder moves freely where Isabella healed it, no stiffness or pain. The same impossible healing I've seen before, in dreams that felt more like memories.

Golden light under small palms. A black eye disappearing. "All better, Luke."

The hallway stretches ahead, moonlight cutting sharp rectangles across Persian carpet. I check each doorway methodically, the way Vincent trained me. But part of my mind keeps drifting to a little girl who used to bandage my scrapes.

Movement at the far end. Not the heavy tread of tactical boots—something lighter. Graceful.

I drop to a crouch, sighting down the barrel.

"I know you're there, Luca." The voice is cultured, familiar somehow. "Still the protector. Some things never change."

She steps into the moonlight. Sophia Torrino, but without the tactical mask now. Dark hair frames a face that belongs in old paintings—beautiful and dangerous as a blade. Those green eyes study me with recognition I don't understand.

"You don't remember me." She moves closer, hands visible but relaxed. "But I remember you. The way you followed her around like a lost dog."

My finger finds the trigger. "Stop there."

"Her. Isabella. Your precious little healer." Sophia's smile is sharp as broken glass. "Tell me—when did the memories start coming back?"

Another fragment surfaces. Isabella crying in the garden. Vincent's voice raised in anger. Four boys surrounding one small girl, all of us promising to keep her safe.

"I'll protect you," my younger voice says. "Always."

"Vincent wiped your minds," Sophia continues, reading something in my expression. "Made you forget the years you lived here as children. But some bonds run deeper than conditioning."

I keep my weapon trained on her center mass, but my hands shake. Not fear—rage. At her words. At the implications.

"You're lying."

"Then why do her tears feel familiar? Why does touching her bring back pieces of a life you can't quite remember?" Sophia takes another step. "Why did you promise to protect a stranger?"

The answer cuts through me like a blade. Because she's not a stranger. She's the girl I swore to guard, the sister of my heart who was taken from me.

"He told you she was payment for debt." Sophia's voice gentles. "But there was no debt. Dr. Hart was Vincent's partner in creating enhanced children. Isabella was their success—and their failure."

I want to pull the trigger. Want to end this conversation before it destroys everything I thought I knew. But the memories keep bleeding through.

Twelve-year-old Isabella screaming as men drag her away. "Luke! Help me!" I fight the guards, desperate to reach her. "I'll find you!" I shout back. "I promise!"

The weapon wavers in my grip.

"You remember now." Sophia reaches slowly into her vest, produces a small drive. "I have proof. Medical records, video footage. What Vincent did to dozens of children over twenty years."

"Why tell me this?"

"Because I escaped his program. Because I was there too—another enhanced child in his collection." Her expression shifts, becomes almost vulnerable. "Isabella and I were friends before they separated us. Before they made her forget I existed."

My mind reels. Another victim. Another child Vincent experimented on.

"The attack—"

"Was necessary. Isabella needed to see her own strength before she could handle the truth." Sophia sets the drive on a nearby table. "Everything's there. Including proof her father died trying to stop Vincent's program."

Footsteps on the stairs. Multiple sets, moving fast.

"My brothers."

"I know." Sophia raises her hands. "I'm surrendering to you, Luca. Take me to Isabella. Let her choose what to do with the truth."

Dante appears at the stair top, weapon drawn. Behind him, Nico and two soldiers, faces grim and ready for execution.

"Target acquired," Dante says, sighting on Sophia.

I step between them. "Wait."

Dante's eyebrow arches. "Since when do we negotiate with home invaders?"

"Since we learned Vincent's been lying about everything." I pick up the drive, feel its weight like a loaded gun. "She comes with us. Isabella needs to hear this."

"Luca—"

"She was there." The words come out rough, strained. "Another child in Vincent's program. She remembers what he made us forget."

Dante studies my face, reads something there that makes him lower his weapon slightly. "What kind of memories?"

I look at Sophia, at the woman who claims to know the sister I forgot I had.

"The kind that explain why I'd die for a girl I met three weeks ago."

As my brothers move to secure Sophia, she catches my eye one final time.

"She called you her guardian angel," she says quietly. "Said the monsters couldn't hurt her when you were near."

The memory hits like a physical blow. Six-year-old Isabella curled in my bed after nightmares. "You keep the bad dreams away, Luke. You're my angel."

I've been keeping her safe all along.

I just forgot I promised to.