Chapter 21 Landon
Landon
The following day I wake up late in Ivan’s bed—our bed now, I suppose—curled on my side with the quilt pulled up to my chin. My body still feels heavy, like it hasn’t quite decided whether yesterday really happened or if it was all a long, violent dream.
The ache in my muscles has dulled to a faint soreness, but my heart still races every time I close my eyes and see my father’s face the instant before the shot.
I’m wearing the soft cotton romper Ivan laid out for me last night—pale lavender with little white daisies, cute puffed sleeves, snap crotch for easy changes. It’s the kind of thing I’d have been embarrassed to wear in front of anyone else a month ago.
Now it feels like armor. Comforting. Safe. And just right.
Claw is tucked against my stomach, one fuzzy paw draped over my wrist. On the nightstand sits a small fortress of snacks Ivan brought me earlier when I was still half-asleep: a bag of gummy bears, chocolate-covered pretzels, strawberry Pocky sticks, a couple of mini cinnamon rolls still in their bakery sleeve, and a bottle of chilled apple juice with a bendy straw already poked through the foil lid.
A Nintendo Switch rests on the pillow beside me, screen dark but charged, ready whenever I feel like escaping into Animal Crossing or Stardew Valley for a while.
“Daddy?” I mouth, my voice low, almost a whisper.
The bedroom door opens quietly.
Ivan steps in carrying a shallow bowl of steaming porridge. The scent of oats and maple syrup reaches me before he does. He’s in a plain black T-shirt and gray slacks, hair still damp from the shower, barefoot. The sight of him—so normal, so domestic—makes my chest ache in the best way.
“Morning, little one,” Ivan says softly. “Or afternoon, technically. You needed the sleep.”
I push myself up against the headboard, tugging the quilt higher. “What time is it?”
“Just past noon.” He sets the bowl on the nightstand, then sits on the edge of the mattress. “Brought you something proper to eat. Porridge with maple syrup and a little cream. Daddy’s Orders. You need good food too, not just sugar and snacks.”
I wrinkle my nose playfully even as my stomach growls. “But the snacks are right there…”
“Porridge first.” He picks up the bowl and the spoon, scoops a small bite, and blows on it gently before holding it to my lips. “Open for Daddy, boy!”
I obey without argument. The oats are warm, creamy, perfectly sweetened. I hum in appreciation as I swallow.
“See?” he says. “That’s my brilliant and brave Little.”
He feeds me another spoonful, then another.
We don’t speak much while I eat—just quiet sounds of spoon against ceramic, my occasional contented sigh, the distant hum of city traffic far below the apartment windows.
When the bowl is half-empty he sets it aside and wipes the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
“I spoke to Viktor this morning,” he says.
Ivan notices the lot of alarm in my eyes and takes my wrist gently.
“All is good,” he continues. “There will be no reprisals. Not for you. Not for me. The hit on Mikhail is already being spun as a multi-family coalition move. Armenians and Italians both claiming credit. Viktor’s letting the story stand. No one’s looking for us. No one’s coming.”
I exhale shakily. “Really?”
“Really.” Ivan brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “But he does want to meet us both. In person. Later this week. His club downtown. He says it’s to clear the air, make sure lines are drawn, and… to congratulate us, I think.”
My stomach twists. “Congratulate us?”
Ivan shrugs one shoulder. “His words. I don’t trust him completely. But I trust that he’s a man of honor in his own way. He gave his word. He’ll keep it.”
I chew my lip. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure enough to take you there,” Ivan says. “And I’ll be right beside you the whole time. No one touches you. Not while I’m breathing.”
I nod slowly. The knot in my chest loosens—just a little.
My Daddy leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “We’ll be okay.”
I tilt my face up, chasing his lips. The kiss is soft at first—gentle, reassuring—then deeper. I taste maple syrup on his tongue and smile against his mouth.
When we separate I rest my forehead against his.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too, baby,” I van replies, his square jaw looking extra defined by his stubble.
I pull back just enough to look into his eyes.
“You’re the best Daddy ever,” I tell him. “The absolute best.”
He cups my cheek, thumb tracing the curve of my lower lip.
“And that’s only possible because you inspire me to be better,” Ivan says. “Your sass keeps me on my toes. Your intelligence keeps me honest. Your adorable little personality makes me want to protect you from everything and spoil you rotten at the same time.”
I giggle, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly bright.
Ivan grins—wicked, boyish, the way he does when he’s about to tease me.
“You know,” Ivan says, nodding toward the bowl, “I’d rather pour the rest of that syrup somewhere else and eat it that way.”
My cheeks flame instantly.
“Daddy!” I holler, my special places tingling and my eyes widening with delight.
Ivan laughs—low, warm, real—and pulls me into his lap, careful of the half-eaten porridge. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder, breathing him in.
We stay like that for a long minute—tangled together, safe, loved.
The city hums outside the windows.
I’ve never felt a love like this—and my new life is only just beginning too…
Later that week the city feels different.
Not safer, exactly—there’s no such thing as safe in our world—but quieter at least.
The shockwaves from my father’s death have settled into a tense, watchful truce.
Volkov men patrol their territories with fresh confidence. Galkin loyalists have either scattered or quietly bent the knee. The other families—Armenians, Italians, Irish—have backed off for now, content to let Viktor claim the crown unchallenged. At least for a little while.
Ivan and I arrive at the diner together just after dusk.
Tonight the diner is closed to the public. A single “PRIVATE EVENT” sign hangs crookedly on the door. Viktor’s black Escalade is already parked in the side lot, two discreet security men standing outside like bookends.
Ivan squeezes my hand once before we step inside.
Viktor is waiting in the back booth—same one he always takes, back to the wall, full view of the entrance. But he’s not alone.
Beside him sits a boy who can only be Eddie.
“There he is,” Ivan says, smiling.
“Cool,” I reply, doing my best to stay relaxed ahead of the prospect of meeting the man who ordered my kidnapping. “He looks nice.”
Eddie is wearing a soft pink sweater and jeans, and there’s a milkshake already sweating on the table in front of him, two straws poking out of the whipped cream.
Viktor stands when we approach. He doesn’t smile, but there’s no hostility in his posture either. Just calm authority.
“Ivan,” Viktor says, offering his hand.
Ivan shakes it—firm, brief, no lingering tension.
Then Viktor turns to me.
“Landon.”
I lift my chin. “Viktor.”
He gestures to the seat opposite him. “Sit. Please.”
We slide into the U-shaped booth. Eddie scoots closer to Viktor to make room. He gives me a shy, genuine smile.
“I’m Eddie,” Eddie says. “Viktor’s… well, his Forever.” He blushes a little as he says it, but there’s pride in his voice too.
I smile back—real, warm. “I’m Landon. Ivan’s… Forever too, I guess.”
Eddie’s eyes brighten and I feel an immediate bond between us. It feels good, real, and actually pretty damn exciting.
Before I know it, Eddie pushes the milkshake toward me. “I already ordered one for us to share. Chocolate with extra whipped cream. And cookies are coming… chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin. Viktor said we could have whatever we want tonight.”
I laugh—soft, surprised. “Perfect.”
The waiter appears almost immediately with a fresh tray: two tall milkshakes, napkins, extra straws. He sets everything down without a word and disappears again. Viktor waits until he’s gone before he speaks.
“I can forgive you going against orders this one time, Ivan,” Viktor says quietly. “You’ve been loyal for years. You’ve spilled blood for me. You’ve earned one indiscretion.”
Ivan nods once. “Appreciated.”
Viktor’s gaze shifts to me.
“But there’s a price,” Viktor continues. “Nothing comes without a price.”
I meet his eyes without flinching.
“And the price is as follows, non-negotiable,” Viktor continues.
“As payback, when you pass the bar, you will act as legal counsel for me. For the Volkov organization. Legitimate cases only, of course. Corporate structuring, real-estate deals, tax work. Whatever keeps the lights on and the feds looking the other way. You’ll be my shield on the clean side of things. ”
I let the words settle.
Then I smile—slow, certain.
“It would be an honor,” I say, my heart beating fast but my mind alive with possibilities.
Viktor raises an eyebrow.
“My father brought shame to the Galkin name,” I say.
“He let pride blind him. He let weakness creep in. He was willing to sacrifice his own son to save face. I won’t make that mistake.
From here on out, the Galkin name will mean something again.
Respect in the underworld. Strength. Loyalty.
Smarts. And I’ll make sure it goes from strength to strength, both in the courtroom and outside it. ”
Viktor studies me for a long moment.
Then he lifts his coffee cup.
“To the future,” Viktor says.
Ivan raises his own cup.
“To the beginning of a new legacy,” Ivan says.
Eddie lifts his milkshake with both hands, grinning.
I clink my glass against theirs and we drink.
Eddie takes a long pull from his straw, gets whipped cream on his nose, and giggles. I laugh with him—real, light, free.
Ivan’s hand finds mine under the table and squeezes.
I squeeze back.
A batch of cookies arrive—warm, gooey, perfect. Eddie pushes the plate toward me…
“Try the chocolate chip first, while they’re still hot,” Eddie grins. “They’re so good here it’s unreal.”
I take one and bite.
It’s a slice of heaven in cookie form. And seconds later Eddie is digging in too. I can’t wait to introduce him to Todd and I just know we’re all going to have so much fun together.
Viktor and Ivan watch us with something almost like amusement.
“Looks like these two are going to be trouble,” Viktor says to Ivan.
Ivan grins—small, private, just for me.
“The best kind,” Ivan laughs.
Eddie leans forward conspiratorially as the two Daddies drink their coffee and get back to talking business.
“So… tell me everything,” Eddie half-whispers. “How did you know Ivan was your Forever Daddy? Was it instant? Or did it take a big old spanking first?”
I laugh again—louder this time.
“Long story,” I say.
My new Little friend props his chin in his hands.
“I’ve got all night,” Eddie says.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe I do too.