Epilogue
Max
The suite Roman gave us when he realized Nika kept sneaking into my room at night is three times the size of my old one and brimming with natural light that pours in through the second-floor balcony doors.
Frankly, I’m lucky I survived that conversation. I’ve never seen Roman so pissed. If not for Nika positioning herself between us, I thought I’d wind up on the wrong end of his Makarov. At the very least, I expected to end up on my ass in the driveway.
Luckily, Nika’s not easily intimidated. She put her foot down, and the Pakhan waved the white flag.
Everyone’s weak to a Kozlov woman.
Wearing nothing but my white t-shirt, Nika lounges on the balcony, tucked into a wrought iron chair as she soaks in the still-soft sunlight of early spring. The Makarov she was cleaning lies in pieces on the table, forgotten in favor of her sketch pad and charcoal sticks.
Pulling my hair back with the tie Nika insisted I should start using, I wander out to see what’s taking her so long.
Bending over her, I press a kiss to the top of her head and steal a peek at her sketch.
I’m the subject. Looking particularly surly, with an exaggerated brow line and… “What the hell is wrong with my hand? I have five fingers, you know.” I point, careful not to smudge her work.
“Shut up.” Nika hunkers down, dragging her charcoal over the mutilated digits. “Hands are difficult to draw.”
I don’t say anything more. The art is part of her therapy, and she’s gotten pretty good in the last few months, minus hands.
“So are guns, apparently.” Sitting across from her in just my boxers, I gesture to the barrel, slide, recoil spring, and magazine lying on a cleaning cloth.
“If you don’t hurry, we won’t have enough daylight to hit the range.
Vanya and Paige are already down there.”
Nika grunts, focusing on fixing my hands. Then she brightens and leans across the table, her dusty fingers tapping up my arm. “I can think of much better things to do.” She bites her lip and glances at the bed.
I regard the sheets, which are twisted and rumpled from our escapades this afternoon. “You want to get out of here?”
Nika sighs. “I’ve tried. Dad’s been great. Everything has been great. But this isn’t home.”
“Then we don’t stay here.” I assemble the gun, check that it’s oiled, and carry the weapon back inside. A vase of red roses decorates the dresser, another one of Nika’s attempts to personalize the space. “Where should we go?”
“Not a beach.” She rolls her lips as she thinks. “And not the mountains.”
“That eliminates a lot of real estate. I hear Nebraska is nice this time of year.” I almost smile, then I say what’s been on my mind. “But if that’s really your only criteria, anywhere in Chicago will do?”
She slips inside behind me, her bare feet nearly silent. “Sure.”
A knot in my chest loosens. “Chicago? Not Nebraska.”
“Definitely not Nebraska.” Taking the gun, she tucks it into her nightstand, next to her lube and several toys we’ve been trying out.
“Good. Because I was lying. Nebraska’s terrible this time of year.”
She laughs and drops onto the bed. As she stretches back, I can tell she hasn’t put on a bra or panties.
I have to close my eyes to keep myself from getting distracted. “Nika. Where do you want to go?”
Several seconds pass.
She twines her legs around my thighs, pulling me forward. I catch myself before I crush her, my hands hitting the mattress on either side of her shoulders.
Her fingers tangle in my hair before tugging my face down to hers.
“Figure it out.” She lifts her hips while rubbing herself against me. “I already know what home feels like. And I’ll follow this anywhere.”
“Are you saying I feel like home?” I grind my hips against her, sliding my hardening dick between her legs. She smiles that special smile that only appears in moments like this. “Or just this?”
For a moment, Nika’s eyes flutter closed. “You.” She works her feet against my boxers, pushing them down with surprising dexterity. I help her without breaking eye contact. “With you, my heart is safe.”
A fault line I didn’t know existed splits open in my chest. Such a declaration from this deadly woman leaves me…wobbly. Terrified. Elated. Aroused. Appreciative. So many feelings all wrapped around one core. Emotions that before Nika, I never let myself have.
Needing time to think, I pull the shirt over her head. She makes a sound low in her throat, her body arching into mine as she demands more contact, more pressure, more everything.
I understand why she doesn’t say the actual words.
Love was weaponized against her. Even basic affection was based on manipulation, perverted, and twisted into something rotten.
I want to be the one to say it first. “I’ll pick a good spot to keep you safe.”
We both know she doesn’t need my protection, but her lips curve up all the same. “Yeah? Such a knight in shining armor.”
“Only for you.” I’m in unfamiliar territory, but I push forward. “Because I love you.”
With the words out in the air, my mind empties, my body lighter than it’s ever been.
I love her. Hell, I think I started falling in love with her when she attacked me in the parking garage that first night. I was just too broken to realize the truth.
She freezes, her eyes wide, her mouth dropping into a cute little “O.”
I couldn’t have shocked her more if I’d slapped her. Actually, a slap would probably be less surprising, given our history.
I’ve surprised myself, if I’m being honest.
I never thought I’d love someone. Not like this, not like her. Just weeks ago, I never would’ve thought I could say those words out loud.
But I do love her, and she deserves to know.
Fuck me, she’s not responding.
Not sure what else to do, so I kiss her, eliminating the last bit of space between us.
Her skin is like nothing I’ve ever touched.
Smooth and scarred in places that tell stories I’ve yet to learn.
For now, I trace each mark with my fingertips, my lips, my tongue, until her breathing fractures and her control slips.
She grips my shoulders, her short nails digging half-moons into my flesh.
When I finally enter her, the sensation—both physical and emotional—is almost too much. We’re on another level.
She watches as her entire body welcomes me like I belong with her.
After several long moments, she sighs against my skin and pulls me closer. “I love you, too, Max.” Her legs coil higher around my waist, changing the angle and taking me deeper. “I don’t think I can convey how much.”
I shiver, my chest blooming with a heady, distracting warmth.
She loves me too.
Anika Kozlov loves me.
How’d I get so fucking lucky?
Together, we final a slow, steady rhythm. We both know the destination, so we’re in no rush.
I brush my lips against her forehead, her cheekbones, the corner of her mouth. Gentle touches I didn’t know I was capable of before I met her.
Her eyes widen at the tenderness, her hands coming up to frame my face. “Stay with me. Right here.”
The vulnerability in the gesture nearly breaks me. “All the way to the end.”
We’ve both spent our lives avoiding connection and dependence on others. Yet here we are, watching it happen and choosing not to run.
This is exactly where I need to be.
As her breathing grows shallow and more ragged, my own composure frays.
Her eyes never leave mine when she comes. She doesn’t hide her face or close her eyes or look away. She stays present and lets me see her.
I follow her immediately, unable to maintain control when confronted with such honesty. Pouring into her, my rhythm falters, halts, and fades.
After, I collapse on top of Nika and gather her in my arms, rolling to the side so we can both breathe again.
I’ve got no strategy. No next move to plan. Just this moment.
I’ve never had anything worth protecting before.
Now that I do, I’ll do anything to ensure she’s cherished, loved, and safe.
Max
The low, insistent buzz of my phone pulls me out of sleep, but I ignore the noise.
My hand is on Nika’s hip, her back pressed against my chest, her breathing deep and even. The room is dark save for the faint glow of city lights bleeding through the curtains. I’m relaxing at home. The rest of the world can fuck off.
The cell buzzes a third time.
Nika shifts, her hand tapping mine to see if I’m awake. “Aren’t you going to get that?”
I growl low in my throat, frustration chasing away my good mood. I reach out blindly, slapping the nightstand until I find my phone.
The screen is bright in the darkness, and I blink several times before realizing it wasn’t a call, but a string of text messages from Alexei.
Adrenaline washes the sleep from my mind and eyes as I start reading.
The war’s officially begun.
My body goes still, which alerts Nika, who rolls over as I continue to read.
Falcones hit our port.
All containers set on fire.
They’re moving in.
Not a boundary attempt. After months of them positioning and peacocking, they finally made a significant play.
This is war.
Nika sits up, trying to read over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
This isn’t a surprise. We all knew it was coming. Nika’s been in on the talks, so she’s also aware of what’s happening.
I set the phone down and pull her back to me, cradling the back of her head and brushing her lips with mine. “Nothing we can’t handle.”
The End