Epilogue
MILA
I t’s tense in Vitaly’s office.
Four months into his reign as Pakhan, and I already have a sense of when he’s going to choose violence. I like to think that comes with the territory of being his wife, but I wonder if Alik, lounging in one of the antique looking chairs, can feel it too.
Bogdan, a large, insufferable man with a falcon tattoo perched on his arm, doesn’t seem to notice any shift. He stands in front of Vitaly’s desk, his scrunched face dripping with disrespect. He’s one of the shrinking population still loyal to Nikita, and it shows. Vitaly was true to his word. Everyone has gotten a second chance. I’m pretty sure Bogdan has used his up.
“As I told your wife ,” he spits like it’s an insult to have had to deal with me. That’s something people are still getting used to. “There was a problem with the drop. It couldn’t be done.”
Vitaly’s expression doesn’t change. He stands relaxed in front of Bogdan, his arms casually crossed. The thing I’ve come to respect most about him and his leadership is his constant state of calm. He never loses his cool. I think it can be confusing for people sometimes, though. It gives them an illusion of safety.
“If Nikita were still Pakhan, could it have been done?” Vitaly asks.
Bogdan huffs but doesn’t respond. “Look, if I say it can’t be done?—”
“Then it can’t be done,” Vitaly finishes with a tight smile. “I get it.” He points to the door. “That’s all I needed from you.”
Bogdan manages to lower his chin, a mildly respectful goodbye, before turning and walking for the door. Vitaly gives me the signal with a roll of his eyes and lift of two fingers.
I reach for my knife in the sheath at my side, then in a smooth motion, I fling it into Bogdan’s spine. He yelps as he collapses onto the ground, fully paralyzed. Walking up to him, he curses and spits, but there’s nothing he can do to get away. He’s just lucky Vitaly gave me the signal instead of Alik.
I pull out the knife from his back then slice his throat with it, silencing his outburst. When I turn, Vitaly is running his hand over his face.
“Do you think he’s telling them to be useless?” he asks Alik, referring to Nikita.
Alik shows a palm as if to say he doesn’t know but then considers it. “To be fair, he was equally frustrated with their worthlessness.”
Vitaly’s eyes move to me as I reach the desk he’s leaning against and wipe my bloodied knife on a cloth.
“What do you think?” he asks me.
“Do I think Nikita is telling his people to give you a hard time?”
He just stares intently, waiting for the answer.
That isn’t what he’s really asking. He’s asking the question he’s asked himself every day since he took over.
Did he do the right thing leaving his uncle alive?
I wish I could say it’s a resounding yes. That we’ve all been living as one big happy family these last few months. That when we had our tiny wedding at the lake house nearly a decade late, Nikita walked me down the aisle in some twisted fate.
But, of course, Nikita didn’t come. He wasn’t exactly invited nor uninvited. He was healing after being nearly stoned to death when some decided they couldn’t resist temptation. It took Roman physically forcing people to stop—and taking a few stones of his own—to save Nikita’s pitiful life.
The man is a cockroach who won’t die. A cockroach who now lives in a different mansion on a different side of Vegas. He’s what Vitaly is calling a valuable member of the Bratva who silently and resentfully attends meetings with the lieutenants. Vitaly even seeks his council in attempts to establish good faith. Who knows if the bitterness will fade or if he’s plotting his revenge. All we can do is be ready for it.
Alik must sense the tension between us because he gets up, exchanges a look with Vitaly, then leaves. Once he’s gone, Vitaly sighs.
“You think I should’ve killed him,” he says, his eyes closing.
“I don’t think that.”
I take his face in my hands so he’ll open his eyes and look at him seriously. “You set a tone. The right tone. Trust me, it’s what our people needed after all the hell we’ve been through. You are who we needed.”
He rubs his thumb over my cheek and takes a deep breath. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
He smiles wide, shaking his head as he clucks his tongue and goes to study my freshly-dyed hair. It’s a light brown that I guessed was close to my natural shade based on the roots that were growing out.
“I like this,” he hums, fingering one of the iron-curled locks.
I pull the lock from his fingertips, drawing his eyes to me. “I’m glad,” I say, with a devilish grin. “But I didn’t do it for you.”
He huffs out a laugh and nods. “Good.”
Cupping the back of my neck, he pulls me in for a kiss. My lips spread for him as he leans into me aggressively, wanting, demanding, but never possessing. Vitaly has asked so much of me these last few months, as his wife, as his partner, as his top asset, but he’ll never ask to own me.
Because in our world, that is love. It took us a decade, countless deaths, a prison sentence, slavery, and a war to learn it.
But we’re finally here. We finally made it.
Til death do us part.
Thank you so much for your interest in Vitaly ! I hope you enjoyed seeing the good guys win :)
But what about the bad guys? What about the pro -Nikita members of the Bratva, or at least the anti-Vitaly? It’s time to hear from them… And they have so much to say, starting with LUKA , Mila’s brother.
LUKA features—you guessed it—Luka, a bitter Bratva soldier who likes to have a sadistically good time, and Lucia, a Mexican illegal immigrant looking to start a new life. Her wish is granted in the worst way when she winds up witnessing two cruelly playful young men commit a heinous crime. Instead of killing her, they decide to share her, Luka gets first dibs. Below is a teaser from that interaction.
TROPES/TRIGGERS:
Mafia romance, Jealous/Possessive MMC, Virgin FMC, Captor/captive, Love triangle, and triggers: N0n-c0n, Graphic violence and gore, Abuse, Sexual violence