“Do you remember what I told you about the spider on my left shoulder blade?”
“Face up,” she answers. “An active criminal.”
I turn my back to her. “Look now.”
The soft gasp I hear is the sweetest sound of my life. Trembling fingers trace over the skin where the inked spider now faces down. Finally, she breaks the silence, her voice trembling and soft.
“Is it real? Does this mean…”
“I’m out,” I finish the sentence. “It’s done. We can have the life that we’ve always wanted. Do all the things that we’ve always wanted to do. No more killing, no more criminals, and no more watching over our shoulder.”
“But,” she starts. “How? Wouldn’t the other crime families want to take a share of everything your Bratva once controlled?”
I smile at her. “After you left, the families that were still alive agreed to sit down to discuss our collective future. All of us have had enough bloodshed and violence. Everybody agreed that to keep fighting among ourselves would only see us all in the same place: dead or behind bars. So we compromised. The Citta Nostra is no more.”
Something flits over Liya’s expression. She must have a million questions racing through that brilliant mind of hers. She cocks her head and looks at me. “But surely someone will try and reconstruct it? I’ve never heard of a boss who isn’t greedy and hungry for more.”
I laugh.Oh, my clever fox, how I missed you!“You’re right. Someone will try. But not for a very long time. We’ve drawn lines in the sand, deep lines that took days and weeks of negotiations. All so that the underground organized crime remains exactly that: underground and organized. A new era is dawning on the city, and it’s all because of you.”
“But what will happen to your Bratva?”
“I’ve spoken with my brigadiers, and we had a vote. Stepan will take over as pakhan. And let’s face it—he’s the only one who can keep those boys in line.”
“Stepan…” she shakes her head, blinking incredulously. “Well, you’re certainly not wrong about that.”
“Which reminds me.” My heart races as I swing my leg over the bed and stand up. “I have something else for you.”
My heart hammers in my chest, and blood rushes in my ears as I reach into my jacket pocket, feeling the familiar weight that served as a constant reminder of what I lost—and what I’ve now regained. I turn around and fall to one knee, my heart thundering as Liya’s hands fly up to her face at the realization of what is about to happen.
I open my palm to reveal the same wedding ring she gave back what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Liya Bernadetti,” I say. “Will you marry me?”
Tears stream down her face as she nods furiously. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Liya
The familiar skyscrapers of New York rise up in greeting like old friends as we emerge from the Lincoln Tunnel. The electric energy of the city dances in the air all around me. It feels intoxicating. The last four days of driving back have been like a dream.
Our journey has been the one thing that I’ve wished for since I was a little girl. Traveling through quaint little towns, visiting cozy family restaurants, and doing things that feel so absolutely normal and ordinary. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
The entire time, Pavel has been by my side, his strong fingers interlaced with mine, always reluctant to let go. On the road, we’ve joked and sung to the top hits on the radio. And for the first time, I’ve heard Pavel laugh—not the fearless bark of laughter befitting a pakhan, but the full-bellied laugh of a husband and a father.
And at night, we’ve fallen into each other, not stopping until we’re both a hot, panting mess.
Pavel parks the car, and we walk—hand in hand—through the familiar doors leading to the penthouse. I can’t help the surge of emotions flooding my body. I’m coming home, but a part of me will never fully shake the feeling of oppressiveness the penthouse inspires in me.
And grief, of course.
Viktoria won’t be here to pinch me on my arm. She won’t be here to offer me a cup of tea. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to see her sharp eyes and hear her call mekrolikone more time. My heart skips as we approach the door that I never thought I’d see again.
“Welcome home,” Pavel says, and then he opens the door.
For some reason unbeknownst to me, I thought there would be a group of people waiting to yell “SURPRISE” when the door opened. But there isn’t. It’s just our little family: me, Pavel, and our still-unborn child.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.