Epilogue
Dimitri
It’s been a week since the kidnapping, and the Four Families have called a meeting. Katya stayed over last night, and this morning she made breakfast for Ian. We’re both getting used to the new official terms for Dad and Son, but he struggles with what he should call Katya. Titles are hard for him, but Mom might come sooner than later. Or it could be wishful thinking.
Uri spent the last week with his parents but is moving back in tonight. When I pick him up at their place, he throws his suitcase and a few gift bags in the back seat. “The one in the green bag is for Ian. Noise-canceling headphones for the nights Katya stays over,” he grumbles. “I got a pair for myself too.”
“What about the other one?”
“That’s for Alana,” he says and gazes out the window. He’s been quiet for the last week. I haven’t pressed him for a reason, he’ll open up when he’s ready. “This was all my fault.”
And apparently, he’s ready now.
“None of this is your fault. How could you have possibly known?”
“If I wasn’t so eager to go to the concert, Alana probably would’ve gone.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” He’s beating himself up way too much about this. “What’s going on?”
He’s quiet again, but after a minute, he confesses, “I slept with someone.”
“Was it Markus, a.k.a. Specs?” I’m getting to know the Mastodon staff now and all their little code names.
Uri jumps and almost launches himself out of the car. “What? No? Why? Um, why would you say that?”
“I don’t know, you two look cute together.”
My cousin sighs. “Markus is… we would be real. And I still need training wheels. It’s not fair to make him deal with all my insecurity and shit.”
I’m about to say that’s sort of the point of a relationship, but hey, who am I to talk. “Wait, if it wasn’t him, who was it?”
He blushes and grins a little. “Grae.”
I whip my head around so quickly I almost run the car off the road. “HOLY SHIT!” Once I’m back in my lane, I clear my throat. “That’s one hell of a pull, well done.” And I stay silent because the question I want to ask would be rude.
He laughs. “You want to know how it was?”
“Yes, please,” I answer too fast.
Uri—badass, tough guy, Mafia don’s son—squirms in his seat and smiles. “It was the best weekend of my life. We fucked, played video games, and he made steak.” He adds under his breath, “It was perfect.”
And it all makes sense. “You wanted to reconnect with him.”
Uri nods. “Nothing serious, but just some fun.” He gets quiet. “And instead, we all got kidnapped and Markus had to save my ass, again.”
Oh, guilt and shame will be the death of all of us.
I pull into the parking lot of the meeting place. It’s one of Joey’s buildings. Uri grabs the bag from the back seat, and we head in. We’re the last to show up. Everyone’s there. Literally everyone: The Four Fathers, the Sons, even some second and third-ranking soldiers. The table is a circle, and fathers and sons are already at their seats, lower ranking men stand along the wall.
Uri hands the gift bag over to Alana.
“What’s this?” She pokes her head into the bag.
“It’s a replacement for the dress that got ruined.” He rubs his thumb over his knuckle, a tick he does when he feels bad. “Um, I got the black one with the pink lacy stuff. I figured it would hide… any stains.”
She huffs at the bag. “It’s like my prom dress, but in reverse. Mine was pink with black lace.”
Donny cocks his head to the side. “You went to prom?”
“Yeah, so? Why?”
He shrugs. “I thought you spawned as an adult. I didn’t think you had a whole childhood and shit.”
It’s nice to see Donny back and less of a human pile of anxiety and mess. Apparently, he upped his meds and his gummy intake at night.
Placing the gift bag on the table, Alana addresses the room. “For the past four years, the Olympians have been acquiring the land used to produce Majesty. There are large scale resources the family sees as world wide benefits. They,” she pauses, “we had a plan to remove The Deviant and to secure the rest of the land. One that did not require the endangerment of,” her voice drops, “your children.”
Alana’s guilt makes me uncomfortable. She lifts her head and rolls back her shoulders, taking command of the space. “The action that occurred was unsanctioned and ordered by a member of the Olympian family who thought our plan was taking too long. He has been reprimanded and punished.” She digs through her pocket and tosses a test tube over at me. “That’s for Ian.”
There’s something hard and white with red fangs… oh God. “Where did this tooth come from?”
“Does it matter?” Alana raises an eyebrow.
“A little,” I say, more than mildly grossed out. I push it to the side and sneer at it.
“A tooth for a tooth,” she says with a darkness that makes me one hundred percent sure she’s the one who yanked it out. “I assure you justice has been served.” She winks at me and adds, “Ian’s gonna think it’s the coolest thing ever.”
I know she’s right, but still.
Alana puts her hands on the table and leans forward. “Over the past week, the Olympians have bought all The Deviant’s properties and seized his assets. To make amends for the actions of The Deviant, they are offering the Four Families a one-time gift.”
She quiets for a moment as murmurs ripple through the rest of the group. “As restitution for the incident, the Olympians are willing to offer each child who was abducted five million dollars to be kept in a trust fund until the age of twenty-five. I am recommending making an adjustment to the timeline so all the kids receive the money at the same time.” She turns to me. “We can roll this money into Ian’s current trust fund if you would like.”
“Ian doesn’t have a trust fund,” I remind her. “All of our assets were frozen when we fled Russia.”
“No, that’s not true.” She blinks at me, her brows furrowed as she takes out her phone. “Oh shit. Um, the email has been sitting in my drafts folder for over a year.”
Joey shows a rare emotional reaction. “What the hell? How the fuck could you forget to send something like that?”
She puts her phone down and locks eyes with him. “Because as I was writing out the reply, a man burst into my office and put a gun to my head, my building blew up, and I had a concussion, hired your cousin, and rebuilt my business from the ground up.”
Joey sinks back into his seat. “That’s fair.”
She turns to me. “My apologies, Dimitri.”
I dismiss it. “No big deal. We haven’t been struggling, and I like my job. Accidents happen.” Alana doesn’t admit defeat or error often. Going with the instant forgiveness approach is fine.
She continues, “The Olympians are aware of the danger this incident has put the rest of you in.” This causes a stir from the Four Fathers. Arms are crossed and grumpy death stares are aimed at her. “They’re willing to offer each of the Four Families twenty million dollars to invest in security as you see fit.”
Instead of looking at this tremendous offer as a gift, the Four Fathers grumble. It’s my uncle who slams his hand on the table. “We wouldn’t need this gift if you just stayed in your fucking lane and let us handle our family business.”
Alana’s silence is deadly. They should know how dangerous disrespecting her will be. But no. Stuck in their old ways, they’re terrified to share power.
A chair screeches against the floor, and everyone stops what they’re doing. All eyes turn to Nonna—the last grandma. She’s diminutive, but has lived through more death and destruction than all of us combined. “Alana did exactly what I paid her to do.”
There is a collective confusion. Mouths hang open, drying out tongues, and no one moves in case they were to cause the sleeping lioness to stir.
Nonna points to the other fathers. “And what your mothers paid her to do.”
She’s half the size of most of the men in the room, but what this grandmother lacks in stature, she makes up for in authority and intimidation. “You spent most of your sons’ lives in prison, Carlos.” The head of the Mexican cartel hangs his head. “You kept our best asset out of the fold because you were scared of what she could become.” Duncan McLeod opens his mouth but closes it again. “My own son let his daughter think she was unwanted and couldn’t be bothered to drive a few states away to bring her scared and confused ass home.” Then, with laser-pointed anger, she stares across the table at my uncle. “And you are the biggest disgrace of all. You sent your own son to die because you didn’t like who he loves.” She spits on the table. “Your mother would be horrified if she knew how many of her predictions about the future came true. On her deathbed, she begged us to find someone who could protect the future of our family.” Nonna puts her hand on Alana’s and her tone softens. “Babushka would’ve loved you.”
“I wish I could have met her.” Alana nods.
Nonna’s eyes narrow on the four men again. “I won’t be here forever, and clearly, you are incapable of preserving our legacy.”
The men drum their fingers on the table, glance up at the ceiling or grumble under their breath, but they collectively do what they can to avoid eye contact with the last of the mothers.
She glances over to us, the next generation, the future. I’ve never felt like I really belonged—more like I was an imposter or someone people took pity on. But she locks eyes on me as she states, “You are our future, no matter what form it might take.”
I feel the crushing weight of another responsibility I’m not prepared to take on.
“We are all family, no matter what our fate may be. But we are stronger and better together, because we bring in allies who are brave and have access to resources we do not.” Nonna says something in Italian and makes the sign of the cross.
And for a flicker of a second, Alana’s lips curl up in the corner. Did she just smile? What sort of a future do we have if even Alana has hope?