Epilogue
Tatianna’s fingers danced across a photo frame. It was the last family picture they had taken, nearly a year ago at their home in Russia. Everyone had made it, a rare occasion for their busy family. Her four daughters and three sons were all smiling and pretending. She knew that some would never be fully happy. There were scars that ran too deep. But Tatianna hoped at least they were trying to be. Because what was the point of life, if not for the attempt at happiness?
The knock on the door was expected, and she stared at it, willing it to be her imagination. But then it struck again, and she knew it was time.
Her past sins have caught up with her.
Tatianna took a packed bag off the bed and strolled out. Her guard, Ryan, was waiting and gently grasped the handles, taking the bag from her. She kept her back straight, refusing to look back, refusing to go grab that photo and keep it with her. There was no reminiscing where she was going. “Did Gil get on the plane?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tatianna nodded, relieved. Though he was still healing from his attempt at death, she had to risk flying him to Russia. Protecting her children was all she knew how to do, and though it might be too late, she wasn’t going to stop fighting.
In the foyer, she stopped and placed her phone, her keys, and a small note on a table. She lingered, wondering if there was any way to change her fate, but she didn’t know if she wanted to. She had lived long enough, and she did deserve what was coming to her. The years of guilt would agree with her.
“We don’t have much time, Mrs. Morozov.” Ryan gestured to the door.
She nodded and turned toward the door at the back of the house, the one that led to darkness. There weren’t many steps, but she clenched the rail, her knees wobbling as the cold came up and twisted around every limb. She took a deep breath, wondering if she was able to go back in time and change things, would she? Her heels clipped against the stone, a sound that reverberated and played memories off the walls as she passed. She could hear the screams, the crashing glass, the slammed doors. So much that used to affect her, but now it was more like a whisper, barely causing a single doubt. Tatianna was a proud woman. She had made mistakes, sure, what person hadn’t? It was all part of the game, wasn’t it?
Because that’s what the Mafia was. A strategic game. And whoever was smarter, quicker, trickier won.
There were six guards in the hall, three of which Tatianna had wrapped around her finger. It was a fun pastime, finding their weaknesses. She couldn’t pay them; she hadn’t had a dime to her name in four decades. But she could manipulate, bargain, and steal. It had taken years to do so. But Tatianna had always been a good chess player.
“Adrik wants everyone to meet him in the living room.” It was a simple lie, but the three men on her chessboard immediately left their posts, and like sheep, the only three lingering, unsure, were quickly convinced to follow. It wouldn’t give her much time before they realized they’d been tricked, but she didn’t need much of it.
From beneath her dress, she pulled out keys. She handed it to Ryan, and he went about opening the door and letting her in. The smell nearly knocked her back. She wrapped a hand around her mouth, pushing forward, finding Vincent, a carcass half-dead. Ryan dropped her bag on his legs, unlocked the wheels of the gurney, and pushed the bed out the door.
Quickly down the hall and out the backdoor, they were in the service area. She looked up to a camera, knowing at some point Adrik was going to look at the feed and see her. He’d be betrayed. He’d be angry. But if he could see past all that, he’d know she did everything for family. And though he might see this as something done to him, it was only for him.
A van awaited, and the doors burst open. Men in white suits didn’t acknowledge her, snatching the gurney. Once the doors were shut, they hopped in the van and drove away.
Tatianna stood there, staring at a man leaned up against a black SUV. Fedor Utkins smirked behind his thick beard. She slowly approached.
Forty years ago, she had been engaged to Fedor, and she could still see the young man beneath. He looked almost the same, except his once-black thick beard was now speckled gray. He wasn’t as thin as he used to be, but at sixty-three, he was still robust and broad-shouldered.
He held up a phone. Tatianna's legs nearly buckled. She held the arm of her guard to keep her strength. On the screen, Alexei lay on a gurney, with machines around him. His heartbeat was the cause of the constant beeping, and with every beat, her breath shook.
Alexei was alive, but in the hands of a person with a terrible grudge.
“It’s done.” She swallowed harshly. The sound of her voice was full of agony, and it scared her. “I told you where your sons are, and I released Vincent into your care for my son. The trade is complete.”
Fedor clicked off the screen and tucked it into his pocket. “Trade? There was never any trade.”
Tatianna stumbled. “You. You said you would give me my son. You gave me your word.”
He chuckled.
“What more do you want?”
“You can’t give me what I want.”
“Yakov is dead. Your vengeance was with him; let it die with him, Fedor.”
His thick brows knitted. “No, Tati. My vengeance was never with him.”
Her nickname off his lips after so many years was a blow. If she were weaker, his words would destroy her. But she was born into the Mafia, and she knew to show weakness was to die. So, she tightened the lock in her knees and hardened her face. “You waited forty years to come after me? Are you that pathetic?” The words were said out of spite, but she knew Fedor had been waiting. Yakov had kept him at bay for years, but now, in their weakest moment, Fedor had come to reap vengeance.
Fedor turned and opened the door to his car, stepping aside.
Tatianna looked down into it. She had planned to leave, to run back to Russia, and protect her children, but she was naive. This was his final play, and she had stepped right into it. She thought of running, of trying to get away, but that would be a feeble attempt. No, going with him would be the better alternative. She could play the game from the inside and maybe even save her family before he’s capable of doing whatever he planned. Like any game of chess, it was the queen that ruled the board.
“I’m sorry,” Tatianna whispered. It was a Hail Mary attempt, but one she had to try. “For hurting you.”
“Are you?”
No, I’m not. Tatianna had never regretted a single thing she’d done. She did the best with the choices she was given.
“Yes,” she replied, stepping forward. “I’m sorry. I chose wrong. You know how impulsive I was.”
Fedor turned to her. “No, Tati, impulsive means reckless. And we both know you are neither of those things.”
Tatianna let the fear in her be swallowed by her anger. If being feeble at his feet meant nothing, then what would? Seduction? They were too old for that game. “Tell me what you want.”
“I told you already. You can’t give me what I want.”
“That’s not what I said. Tell me what you want!”
“The end of the Morozov line, Tati. The end.” Fedor leaned in. “As I said, you can’t give me what I want.”
Tatianna stumbled back. “So, what does that mean? You’re gonna go after my children? My grandchildren? That’s not the kind of man you are. They don’t know anything. They haven’t done anything. You—you can’t do that.”
Fedor smiled. “Oh, Tati, you don't know what I can do.”
Book 3 will be released in March of 2026