Alia stood on the dark balcony of the palace, tears streaming down her face, though her gaze still held the cold steel of a seasoned agent. Suddenly, the towering figure of Viktor emerged from the shadows. His presence usually commanded a chilling fear, but tonight, his movements were unnervingly calm.
As Alia sobbed, Viktor stepped closer, his hand coming to rest near her throat. Alia looked into his eyes and gently placed her palm against his cheek, her fingers trembling. She spoke in a choked voice:
"Do you know, Viktor? The whole world thinks Russians are made of stone—that they have no hearts. Others feel weak against our strength. But looking at your eyes tonight... why do I feel such a strange tenderness?"
Alia moved closer to him. Viktor's shirt was partially unbuttoned, revealing his broad chest and his legendary White Owl tattoo. She traced the lines of the tattoo with her fingertips, whispering:
"Your eyes are so blue tonight, Viktor. Everything feels so white, so pure. The owl on your chest... it's as if it knows secrets I don't. Are you as lonely as I am?"
Viktor took her hand in his iron-strong grip. He looked into her eyes and spoke in a low, gravelly tone:
"Alia, the Russian ice and blood harden our hearts, yes, but we are still human. You thought leaving your child behind made you a greater warrior? No. A true warrior is one who can protect their own existence. Sofia has taken the place you were meant to stand in."
Alia let out a cry of anguish. "I wanted to save him! My milk wasn't coming... I felt like a failure, Viktor! Aryan convinced me that I only know how to destroy, not how to give life."
Viktor tilted her chin up to face him, his blue eyes burning like ice-fire. "Aryan lied to you. You mistook your vulnerability for a weakness and chose the wrong path. Today, Dimitri and Sofia are one. And I? I didn't come here to show mercy, Alia. I came to show you the truth."
Alia buried her face against the owl on his chest and wept. For the first time, she felt completely helpless before a hardened Russian Mafia leader.
The Phoenix and the Owl
Viktor's cold, mysterious gaze suddenly shifted into one of deep, intoxicating intensity. Alia's tears and her raw vulnerability had awakened a suppressed emotion within him. As she touched the white owl on his chest, Viktor leaned down toward the curve of her neck.
He gently pulled back the edge of her garment, revealing an exquisite Blue Phoenix tattoo etched upon her skin. The Phoenix—the bird that rises repeatedly from its own ashes. It was just like Alia, who continued to fight despite a thousand heartaches.
Viktor whispered:
"Alia, if I have the white owl to keep watch in the dark, you have this blue phoenix. You rise even after being destroyed. This blue isn't the color of your sorrow; it is the mark of your royalty."
Alia closed her eyes, feeling his hot breath against her skin. Viktor did not hesitate. With profound tenderness and deep-rooted passion, he pressed a firm, lingering kiss upon the blue phoenix tattoo on her chest. A shiver surged through Alia's entire body.
Leaning into her ear, Viktor spoke his heart for the very first time in a low, husky voice:
"Love you, Alia... I won't let you lose. Aryan used you, but I will give you fulfillment."
Alia gripped Viktor's hair, pulling him closer. All her life, she had known nothing but gunfights and conspiracies, but today, Viktor's confession sounded like a magical incantation. Just as Dimitri and Sofia had found their bond, a new, forbidden love was born in this dark world between Viktor and Alia.
"Viktor," Alia whispered through her tears, "protect me like that tattoo protects you. I don't want to go back to Aryan's dark hell anymore."Sofia stood beneath the shower in the palace's opulent bathroom. Amidst the steam of the hot water and the freezing Moscow winter outside, she was a living flame. As the water cascaded down her body, memories she had suppressed for years began to resurface.
Flashback: The Two Psycho Sisters of the Royal Family
Sofia and Alia were not from an ordinary family. They were descendants of one of Russia's most ancient and influential Royal Families. Their father was the epitome of aristocracy, and their mother was deeply compassionate. But behind that veil of nobility lay a terrifying gene. Both Sofia and Alia were born with a psychotic streak and a lethal level of violence.
Their parents always tried to hide this dark side, but blood cannot be denied.
That One Terrifying Night:
A memory flashed back—the day their lives changed forever. After a royal dinner, when the palace was silent, an intruder—a traitorous enemy—broke in. He thought he could terrorize the royal family and loot their treasures.
But he didn't realize he hadn't entered the room of ordinary girls; he had stepped into a cage of two young monsters.
Sofia and Alia felt no fear. Instead, their eyes glowed with a sinister joy. Sofia had calmly wrapped a diamond necklace around the man's throat, strangling him, while Alia, showing no mercy, used her silver knife to rip his chest open.
When their parents burst into the room, they found their two daughters standing there, drenched in blood and laughing. That was the moment they realized—it wasn't just nobility in their veins; it was a deadly "psycho" essence. After that incident, they were eventually separated, each carving their own path into the world of war.
Standing under the shower, Sofia looked at the scar on her hand. She whispered to herself:
"Alia... you and I are of the same blood. We were born to destroy. But today, you fight for Aryan, and I fight for Dimitri. I think this blood feud ends today."
She stepped out of the bath, wrapped herself in a large towel, and stood before the mirror. Wiping away the steam from the glass, she saw her reflection. The maternal softness was gone; in its place burned the fire of that old Royal Psycho Major.
Just then, a knock sounded on the bathroom door. Dimitri's voice called out:
"Sofia, don't be long. We have to leave. Aryan Volkov has almost reached the palace."
Sofia looked at the mirror and gave a twisted, crooked smile. She knew that in today's battle, it wouldn't just be guns firing—the ancient, royal madness of their blood was about to return.