Epilogue
Wren
Three Years Later
Yep. Our story had a happy ending against all odds. It didn’t look like it at first, but we found a way to make it work between us.
Even after all this time, that spark was still there, and it ignited into flames whenever we were together. Our relationship still burned with the same intensity, just shaped differently now—better.
After the incident with the false accusations and the assassins sent after Val, he decided to leave that life behind for good. According to him, he didn’t just do it himself; he did it for me—to keep away from violence.
Val could’ve chosen to return to that life, to clear his name and regain his power. But he didn’t. Instead, he chose a different career in life. Tech. The man singlehandedly started his company, called Valkon, one of the fastest-rising companies in the tech industry.
Aside from being a former ruthless Mafia boss, Valarian Tarasov was also a businessman, trained to never lack money. He left everything he used to own behind, all of his Bratva-related assets.
We moved from Chicago to a quieter life in a coastal city, away from all the madness of our past. And from scratch, Val built his company, brick by brick. Of course, I assisted, but most of my energy was channeled into my photojournalism career.
My husband supported me, not just with words, but also with his finances. Together, we helped each other grow in our different fields, and life couldn’t have treated us any better.
With each passing day, I wondered how we got here despite everything we’d had to survive. It amused me how easily he blended into my world, even after spending more than half of his life in the dark world of the Bratva.
He’d made a name for himself—legally—one that commanded respect and brought him honor. I honestly couldn’t be prouder to be his wife. Val was still in touch with the rest of the Tarasov family, even though he was no longer a part of the family business.
From what I gathered, he was the first to break out and follow his own path. His siblings might not tell him, but I knew some of them envied him and wished they had his kind of courage.
It wasn’t easy, but he paid the price for his freedom, fought his way out of the brotherhood unscathed. I still hadn’t wrapped my head around that. So, if anyone envied him, they must be ready to do what he did—pay the price that he paid.
All that pain and suffering turned out to be worth it in the end. If I could go back in time and do this over again, I wouldn’t change anything—wouldn’t risk ruining my wonderful future.
This morning, I was seated in the living room of our new mansion, built on a cliff overlooking the sea. With my legs resting on the state-of-the-art table before me, I leaned back on the sleek, cream-colored couch, scrolling through my tablet.
I glanced between the video playing on my screen and the shitless man pacing our kitchen with a phone clasped to his ear. He was making one of those business calls that pissed him off.
From the couch, I watched him frown as he warned against incompetence, his voice low and sinister. Whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the other end of that call must be peeing their pants right now.
He was quite bossy, yes. And that’s a good thing. Everyone respected and feared him, and that fear was what kept them in line. Sometimes, I didn’t agree with his methods, like firing someone over a silly mistake.
I’d spoken to him about that, and thankfully, he always listened to me.
We’d finally understood each other. But that didn’t mean that we no longer argued or disagreed about a thing or two. Our banter was still very much alive, but never cruel, never cold.
Our sarcasm hadn’t dulled, though, only grown more refined with time. He teased me every morning over my terrible taste in tea, and every time, I’d roll my eyes at his inability to relax.
There were the soft things too—the way he always spanked my ass when passing by, and the way I saved him the crusty ends of the bread because he liked them best.
We’d built a lovely home here together, and there was no one else I’d rather have shared my life with.
After he was done threatening the poor soul over the phone, he walked back into the living room, his expression softening by a whisper.
“These guys will be the death of me,” he murmured.
“You should go easy on them,” I said, my lips curling into a smile. “And on yourself, too. Don’t want you breaking down before the little one arrives.”
He sank into the couch beside me, fingers rubbing his tired eyes. And then it hit him. Val turned to face me, a flicker of confusion dancing in his gaze. “Little one?” he asked.
My smile broadened, my palm resting on my lower belly.
His gaze dipped, and then he looked up at my face again. “Are you…?”
“Pregnant?” I finished his question and still gave the answer. “Yes.”
His reaction was delayed, but those eyes never left mine. Silence stretched between us—not awkward, not tense—just peaceful. He reached out to grab the back of my neck, fingers rubbing it in a massaging motion.
Val leaned in, pulling me closer to him until his face mirrored mine, and I could feel the warmth of his fresh breath on my skin. I placed my forehead on his as his fingers intertwined with mine.
Neither of us said a word, but I could feel the joy radiating from him. This was the beginning of a new chapter in both of our lives—uncharted waters that we would navigate together.
At that moment, the world drifted into the background, leaving just the two of us. And the baby we were expecting.
***
Val
Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold.
Three years. That’s how long it took me to finally get back at Akim Antosha for all he’d put me through. I didn’t wait this long because I never had the chance to hurt him. No. It was all part of my plan to get even.
I wanted him to forget about my threat, to live his life thinking he could get away with what he did to me. But tonight, I decided it was finally time for the old bastard to atone for his crimes against me.
My wife and I were expecting a baby, and I vowed that they wouldn’t live in a world where Akim Antosha existed.
Against the cold rooftop of a high-rise building, I lay flat on my belly, my black outfit blending seamlessly with the night. I squinted an eye through the scope of my rifle, tracking Akim in the opposite skyscraper’s lit window.
The shameless bastard was in a hotel with one of his mistresses. She was naked with her breasts pressed against the glass as he fucked her from behind.
With a steady breath, I aimed at the bastard’s forehead, waiting for the right time to fire. Oblivious to the danger lurking atop the building across from him, he continued ramming the lady as hard as he could.
Like a predator stalking its prey, I waited patiently, watching his every move. Seconds later, his head came into view, giving me a clean shot. I cocked the rifle, the click sharp in the night air, and then with one calm squeeze of the trigger, a gunshot rang out.
Bang!
Akim’s lover screamed at the sight of his body drowning in the pool of his own blood.
Sirens wailed in the distance, but my mission here was complete. I’d be long gone before the cops arrived. They’d never find the shooter, and given the type of man Akim was, the Bratva would never trace the killing back to me.
Akim had a lot of enemies, and over the last three years, he’d pissed off some really powerful people who wanted him dead. Everyone would be so focused on his most recent enemies, and no one would even think to look in my direction. No one would remember the one enemy from his past.
Akim had been a master of manipulation. But I guess that title belonged to me now.
*****
THE END