Epilogue
Kira sat at her piano, her fingers mindlessly on the keys as she watched her three-year-old, Larson, playing with his cars on the floor.
She knew how close she had been to losing her child after Maxim’s brother bargained with their firstborn.
But Trina had gotten pregnant first, and now, as long as that child lived to be eighteen, her son was safe.
Was he? As long as he has the Morozov name, will he ever be safe?
Her fingers drifted from the keys. Life changed too drastically in the last five years.
She didn’t know the future anymore. People died who shouldn’t have.
And if it wasn’t for Maxim’s persistence in keeping them out of the public eye, who knows what could have happened to them?
These negative thoughts always came when Maxim went out of town.
She was paranoid, she knew. It was one of the side effects of the medications she was taking to help with her eating disorder.
The doorbell rang, and she waited for Lydia to answer the door, but no footsteps sounded against the wood flooring.
After a minute, the doorbell rang again.
Larson popped to his feet and ran to the door, and Kira rushed after, trying to grab him, but he wrestled his way out and typed in the passcode before he pulled the door open.
Her brows knit as she stood in the foyer, staring at the man she hadn’t seen in five years.
Why would Alex Utkins be at her door?
Kira snatched Larson, but then she heard pounding footsteps behind her, and she whipped her head around to see a crowd of men with guns drawn. How had they gotten in? And what could they want?
Alex smirked as he leaned against the doorway. “Some bloodlines really should have limits.”