Epilogue
C hristmas Eve
A light, powdery snow drifted down, settling over Fifth Avenue and glittering in the glow of the streetlamps.
The city was wrapped in that rare, perfect winter hush—the kind that fell only when the snow was fresh and thick enough to muffle everything but the sound of our footsteps.
Lacey’s white coat, the one I’d had Aria deliver to her the day I’d made her choose her future, looked as if it had been made for this exact night.
Its fur collar framed her flushed cheeks beautifully, the cuffs circling her wrists as her hand stayed firmly tucked in mine.
We’d spent the last few hours wandering past the holiday window displays—admiring the jeweled gowns at Bergdorf’s and watching the tiny entertainment of the animated toy trains at Saks. Lacey’s radiant laughter spilled into the cold air with every stop.
She was bubbling over with pure, happy energy after spending the day shopping with Nat and Jae.
I might not be able to help her realize her Broadway dreams yet, but bringing those two into our fold had been the right move.
When I’d gone to their apartment to collect Lacey’s things, I’d given them a blunt explanation about her disappearance.
They weren’t stupid—they understood that just knowing her had already dragged them into the shadow of my world.
They might have been apprehensive, but their loyalty to Lacey ran deep.
They were good friends to her, and after I’d offered to bankroll their theater dreams, it hadn’t taken long for us to figure out an arrangement that worked for everyone.
The only mistake I might have made was moving them into my building.
Between rehearsals, late-night monologue rehearsals, and their version of “adult sleepovers,” my penthouse had become louder than I’d ever thought I would tolerate.
It was chaos—but a strange sort I didn’t mind.
Ana was going to laugh her ass off when she visited next week and saw it for herself.
But the truth was, I didn’t care. I loved my wife.
And for the first time in my life, I could see a future that wasn’t only full of psychological warfare with the criminally insane or bloodshed in backrooms. As long as I kept myself straddling the line between light and darkness, I would be okay.
There wasn’t much else I could have wanted.
Our snowy walk had brought us to the familiar black-and-gold sign of Cipher Coffee, where it had all begun.
Inside, the air was rich with the scents of espresso, cinnamon, and roasted chestnuts. Carmine stood behind the counter, his reading glasses perched halfway down his nose as he counted cash. Trina leaned against the back wall, scrolling on her phone, her glossy lips pursed in permanent disapproval.
Carmine looked up first. His face broke into a rare smile.
“Well, well… I’ll be damned. Volkov.” His gaze shifted to Lacey. “And look who we have here…”
“My wife,” I said, savoring the words as I eased her forward. “Mrs. Lacey Volkov.”
Without hesitation, Carmine came out from behind the counter and pulled her into a side hug.
The movement was awkward, as if it wasn’t something he did very often.
“Was starting to think you’d vanished for good,” he muttered almost gruffly, but the warmth in his tone gave him away. “Glad to see you alive…and glowing.”
“Thank you, Carmine,” she said, smiling up at him.
Trina slid her phone into her pocket and stepped forward, eyes flicking from me to Lacey. “Did you say…Lacey?” Her brow creased. “Mrs. Volkov?” The name came out as if it had caught in her throat.
“That’s right,” Lacey said, amused at Trina’s reaction. “Lacey’s my real name. I went by Lyla before, but…that’s a long story.”
“Mm.” Trina’s answering smile was stiff. “Well. Congratulations, I suppose.”
Carmine waved her off with a grunt, then looked back at us. “Christmas Eve deserves a hot drink. Peppermint mocha with a little something extra to warm you up?”
Lacey lit up. “Yes, please. It’s not Christmas without a peppermint mocha.”
“And the usual for you, Volkov?”
I nodded. “Americano.”
Carmine gestured for Trina to take care of it, and she busied herself at the coffee machine. He leaned in slightly toward me. “Heard about the mess with Delgado and those MS-13 scum. Happy you both made it out breathing.”
I grunted. “It’s far from cleaned up. Best be ready, Carmine. This war is global.”
Before he could reply, the door swung open, letting in a gust of cold air. Lucian entered and quickly shut the door behind him, brushing snow off his black cashmere coat and woolen scarf.
“Lucian, didn’t expect to see you this evening,” I said, holding out my hand.
He dropped his hand onto mine and shook it firmly.
“Nik, it’s Christmas Eve,” he said, his eyes sliding to Lacey and back to me. “Shouldn’t you be wining and dining your lovely new bride instead of dragging her to a coffee shop?”
“We just came from La Rosa Bianca,” I said, smirking. “She wanted to play in the snow and look at the windows. Trust me, I know exactly how to please my wife. I make sure she never has reason to complain.”
Lucian’s gaze returned to Lacey. “Apparently,” he said, one corner of his mouth tugging up.
None of us bothered taking off our coats as we slid into my usual booth, with Lacey next to me and Lucian across the table.
I let my own smirk widen. “And what about you? Single on Christmas Eve, buying coffee alone? That’s a sad picture, Lucian.”
Trina arrived with the drinks, sliding Lacey’s cup toward her. “You’re lucky,” she said with a saccharine smile. “To have a man save you from that strip club I warned you about—not to mention, a man who takes such good care of you now.”
I cut in before Lacey could answer. “She’s not lucky,” I said evenly. “She’s earned her place at my side. My queen doesn’t need saving—she fights with me. And anyone who comes for one of us answers to both of us.”
Trina’s mouth opened, closed, and she stepped back toward the counter.
“I’ll have a coffee. Black. To go!” Lucian shouted at her back.
Then he chuckled low. “Careful, Nik. I think you just broke Trina’s heart.”
Lacey giggled a little.
Lucian’s eyes swept over Lacey with open approval, a slow grin pulling at his mouth.
“Well, I have to say, Mrs. Volkov, after everything you’ve been through with Delgado, you look happy and like you walked straight out of a winter fashion spread.
Guess married life agrees with you.” His gaze flicked back to me.
“Speaking of Delgado…heard about your G8. Word is, there were a couple of people onboard when it went up?”
I gave a single, tight nod. “First Officer Jensen. Good man. Had a little girl—just a toddler. I’ve set up a trust for her and his wife so they’ll never have to worry about money again.
” I took a calming breath. God, I was still so pissed off about that.
“The other was a flight attendant I didn’t know personally.
I covered his funeral and paid off every debt his family had just to try to help ease their burden. It’s the least I could do.”
Lacey’s eyes softened, and she smiled up at me. She leaned in and brushed her lips against my cheek. “I love you,” she whispered.
Lucian tilted his head. “Always wondered if you had a heart buried under all the Kevlar.”
“Don’t spread that around,” I muttered, though the corner of my mouth threatened a smirk.
He leaned back in the booth, stretching out as if he had all the time in the world. “So…we keeping this all small talk and holiday drinks, or are you interested in hearing my thoughts on how to get retribution against the mayor?”
Lacey glanced at me, then back at him. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on paying the mayor back for thinking it was a good idea to have me snatched right in front of my husband.
” Her voice was calm, but the subtle tremor in her hands told me the memory of being strung up in the meatpacking plant still lived under her skin.
My jaw clenched. “Hayes will die for that,” I said flatly.
“Nineteen of Delgado’s men are already in pieces in a landfill up in Maine.
The only one still breathing who touched what’s mine is Delgado himself—and his days are numbered.
I’m thinking the press might enjoy a story about a corrupt mayor getting murdered by his own drug and flesh dealer…
who then gets whacked by the mayor’s security detail on the way out. ”
Lucian’s grin spread, slow and wolfish. “Well, I might have just the way to gift wrap Hayes for you. Murdering the man might be too kind a punishment. You want to hear it?”
I gestured for him to go on.
“Mayor Hayes has a daughter,” he began, savoring every word like he was pouring a fine Irish whiskey.
“He’s kept her hidden since she was thirteen, when her mother died in a car wreck.
The girl was in the car too. Don’t know if she was injured, but Hayes shipped her off to an all-girls Catholic boarding school and then later to a cloistered Carmelite monastery in Spain—to live among nuns who practice silence, poverty, obedience…
shut off from the world. She’s been locked away there ever since. ”
Lacey leaned forward. “And you know this how?”
Lucian just smirked. “I went on a couple of dates with a girl who works as part of the mayor’s household staff.
She was a big talker when I showed her off on my arm at Xyst, especially after a few drinks.
Evidently, Hayes’s daughter just came into town for some religious event at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
But she’s only here for a few days. And rumor has it…
” He let the pause stretch until Lacey’s brow arched.
“She’s his world—the only thing he gives a damn about. He has no wife. No other family.”
My pulse picked up. “Go on.”