Epilogue
BELLA
By the time Irina’s cars disappear through the gate, my legs feel like they might give out.
The tarmac is suddenly too big and too quiet. The plane is still humming behind us, lights on, door open, like it’s waiting for a script that has just been thrown away. Nikolai is a dark shape on the ground, a smear around him that I’m trying very hard not to look at.
Aleksander is still holding me. His arm is solid around my back, his other hand on my shoulder. I can feel how hard his heart is beating under my palms.
“You all right?” he asks quietly.
It’s such a stupid question that something inside me wobbles. I let out a shaky laugh that sounds a little like a sob. “No,” I say. “Not even close.”
He huffs a breath, almost a smile. “Me neither.”
His face looks different now that Irina is gone. Tired in a way that’s deeper than lack of sleep. There’s blood on his sleeve that is not his. There’s a new line etched between his brows that was not there a few days ago.
He was ready to die for me. He almost watched me die instead. His best friend betrayed him. His mother just walked away with the thing that nearly destroyed all of us, and he let her.
And still, when he looks at me, there’s that softness I don’t know how to carry.
This was supposed to be the part where I leave. Where I get on a plane and disappear and never look back. Instead I’m standing here pressed against him like I have nowhere else in the world to go.
“Bella,” he says.
“Yeah,” I say.
His hand slides from my shoulder to my cheek, fingers rough and warm as they cup my face. The touch is careful, like he’s afraid I might break. His thumb brushes under my eye and I realize there are tears. Again.
“You don’t have to stay,” he says. “You still have the money. You can take another flight. Go anywhere. None of this has to be your problem.”
I search his face. “Do you want me to go?”
He pauses. That tells me enough.
“I want you safe,” he says finally. “That’s all I have wanted since the moment you walked back into my life.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again. “No,” he says quietly. “I don’t want you to go.”
I feel suddenly very clear. I’m still scared. I’m still shaking. But the fear is not as loud as it was. Something else has pushed past it.
“Good,” I say.
His brows pull together just a little.
“Because I’m not going anywhere,” I add.
“Bella,” he starts, like he’s going to argue again.
“No,” I cut him off, my voice rough. “Listen to me for once.”
He shuts his mouth. His hand is still on my face. It helps.
“I know what you are,” I say. “I know what your mother is. I know what your world looks like. I have seen enough blood in the last few days to last me a lifetime. I am not stupid. I know this is not a happy ending.”
He flinches a little at that.
“But when I thought I was dying in that parking lot,” I continue, “the thing that scared me most was not that I might never see another sunrise. It was that I might never see you again. I heard you say you loved me and my brain went, oh. That makes sense. Like it had been waiting for the words to catch up to something that was already true.”
His eyes darken. “I meant it,” he says.
“I know,” I say. “I love you too.”
The words come out quiet, but they feel huge. Like stepping off a ledge and trusting the fall.
His fingers tighten just a little on my cheek. For a second he just looks at me, as if he’s committing my face to memory. Then he leans in.
This kiss is not careful. The last one in the hospital was soft and hesitant, full of maybe and what if. This one is all the things we did not say while guns were pointed at us. It’s relief and anger and grief and the stupid, stubborn joy of still being alive.
I rise on my toes to meet him, hands fisting in the front of his shirt. He tastes like adrenaline and the cold air, like everything terrifying and everything I want.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. He rests his forehead against mine for a second, eyes closed.
“You are making a terrible choice,” he murmurs.
“Probably,” I agree. “But it’s mine. And I’m tired of being pushed around like a piece on a board.”
The terminal door opens behind us.
“Hey!” Selene’s voice carries across the tarmac. “Somebody want to tell me why there are shell casings out here?”
We turn.
She’s coming down the small ramp from the building, coat flapping in the breeze, eyes scanning for trouble. Lily is on her hip, arms wrapped tight around her neck, half-asleep, thumb in her mouth.
I feel Aleksander tense.
He doesn’t want Lily to see any of this. Not the blood. Not Nikolai’s body.
“Stay here,” he says to me quietly.
I nod and let him go. He walks toward them quickly, putting his body between them and the worst of the view.
Lily spots him first. Her head lifts and her whole face changes.
“Papa,” she mumbles, reaching for him.
Selene shifts her weight and hands her over without comment. “Here,” she says. “She has questions. I lied. You’re welcome.”
He takes Lily and she immediately buries her face in his shoulder, small hand curling into his collar. He turns just enough that her line of sight is the terminal and the plane and not the ground behind him.
“Don’t come any further,” he tells Selene.
She stops where she is, eyes flicking past him. Her expression hardens when she sees the still shape on the tarmac.
“Well,” she says softly. “That answers that.”
Aleksander adjusts Lily on his hip and pulls his phone out with his free hand. The captain and one of the ground crew are hovering near the bottom of the stairs, looking rattled.
“We will not be needing the charter anymore,” he calls to the captain. His voice carries. “You can stand down. My apologies for the trouble.”
The man looks like he wants to argue, but then his eyes flick to the blood and to the guns and he thinks better of it. He nods and starts up the stairs, already talking into his radio.
Aleksander dials a number and turns slightly away, still rocking Lily gently on his hip. His tone is clipped but calm.
“I need a team at the private strip,” he says. “Clean up and transport. One body. Yes. My usual rate. Fifteen minutes ago would be ideal.”
He ends the call and tucks the phone away.
For a moment he just stands there, holding his daughter, looking out over the tarmac like he’s trying to see the next ten moves of a game that has changed too many times.
Then he comes back to me.
Lily reaches out for me when she sees I’m still there. “Mommy,” she says, voice scratchy.
My heart squeezes. I take her carefully and she settles against me like this is the most normal thing in the world, like we didn’t almost get on a plane to disappear.
Aleksander insists on driving us himself, not trusting anyone else.
The city is quiet as we cross it, the headlights washing over empty streets, the engine a steady hum beneath the silence.
Lily is tucked in her car seat, clutching a new stuffed animal Selene handed her on the way out—a bear this time.
She doesn’t say much, just yawns and leans her head against the window, asleep by the time we hit the halfway mark.
By the time we get home—really home, not a safe house, not a hospital—I feel both wired and hollow. Aleksander carries Lily in, her small body limp in his arms, and I follow with bags, unlocking the door, fumbling the light on in the hallway.
He gets her settled, pulling the blankets up over her, brushing her hair back with a tenderness that does something soft and painful to my chest. He sits by her side until she sighs and rolls over, lost to the world.
He stays a second longer, just watching her, making sure she’s really asleep.
When he comes out, he closes her door quietly behind him. The house is dark except for the kitchen light I left on. For a moment we both stand in the quiet, just breathing, looking at each other like it’s the first time all night.
The adrenaline is still there, humming beneath my skin, mixing with something hungrier, sharper, more honest than anything that happened on that tarmac.
I cross the room before I can think about it. Aleksander meets me halfway, his hands coming up to cup my jaw, then threading into my hair, rough and gentle all at once.
The first kiss is heat and relief and pure need. It’s everything we almost lost, everything we still could. He presses me back against the wall, mouths at my neck, his hands roaming, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
I slide my hands under his shirt, palms flat against warm skin, his body so solid and real it grounds me more than any words could.
He groans low, the sound vibrating through his chest, and kisses me harder, deeper.
I gasp, my hands fisting in his hair, and he lifts me up, carrying me to the bedroom like I weigh nothing.
Clothes come off in a blur, the urgency only making everything hotter. His mouth finds my throat, my breasts, my stomach, worshiping me like he can’t get enough. I arch into him, every nerve ending awake, greedy for more.
We don’t make it all the way to the bed at first. Aleksander presses me gently back against the bedroom door as it clicks shut, his mouth hungry, hands sliding beneath my shirt, over my ribs, up to cup my breasts.
He breaks the kiss, lips brushing my jaw, then lower, hot breath skating down my neck.
He moves slowly, deliberately, making sure I feel every second of it.
His fingers tease at the edge of my bra, then slip underneath, thumbs circling my nipples until they’re hard and aching.
I arch into his touch, breath shuddering out of me.
He kisses down, pausing at the hollow of my throat, his stubble scratching soft skin, his mouth rough and warm.
Then he lowers, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of my breast, tongue flicking out to taste me.
His hands work my bra away, tossing it aside.
The air on my bare skin makes me shiver.
Aleksander groans softly at the sight of me. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost reverent. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, tonguing it slowly, then harder, teasing with his teeth, his hand gently kneading the other breast, thumb rolling over the sensitive tip.
I gasp, my hands in his hair, hips pressing against him. Every nerve ending is focused on his mouth, his hands, the way he worships every inch of my skin. He switches, lavishing just as much attention on my other breast, licking, sucking, until I’m squirming beneath him, desperate for more.
His fingers trail down, light and teasing over my stomach, finding the waistband of my panties. He pushes them down, lips still wrapped around my nipple, his hand sliding between my thighs. He strokes gently at first, fingertips teasing my folds, circling my clit with slow, torturous precision.
“Please,” I whisper, voice raw with want.
He looks up at me, eyes dark, mouth glistening from my skin. “Tell me what you need,” he says, voice low and commanding, but so gentle I melt.
“More,” I manage. “Just—more, Aleksander, please.”
He smiles, wicked and soft, and slides a finger inside me, curling it perfectly, thumb working my clit. I moan, head falling back, hips rocking against his hand. He keeps his mouth on my breast, sucking in time with his strokes, making me fall apart a little more with every movement.
He worships me like that, slow and unhurried, his mouth and hands never leaving my body, pushing me higher and higher until I shatter for him, crying out his name.
He lifts me and carries me to the bed, laying me down like I’m something precious, not something he’s desperate to have. He pauses there, hovering over me, eyes searching my face.
“I love you,” he says, like it’s a promise and a confession all at once.
My chest tightens. “I love you too.”
That’s all he needs.
He kisses me deeply, slow and unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be.
His hand slides down my side, between us, fingers already knowing exactly where to touch.
He strokes me, presses into me, makes me gasp into his mouth.
When he finally pushes inside me, it’s with a low groan, his forehead dropping to mine, his breath uneven.
“Oh,” I whisper, clutching at his shoulders. His cock fills me completely.
It feels like relief more than heat at first, like something that was missing finally clicking into place.
He doesn’t rush. He rocks into me slowly, deliberately, giving me time to feel every inch of him, every pull back and press forward.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek, my jaw, my mouth again. “I’m right here.”
“I know,” I say, wrapping my legs around his hips, drawing him in deeper. “I trust you.”
That does something to him. His grip tightens, his thrusts grow stronger, but he never loses that careful tenderness. He kisses my breasts, my throat, whispers my name like it’s sacred.
“I love you,” he says again, louder this time, like he needs me to hear it.
“I love you,” I answer back, over and over, the words spilling out between moans, between breaths. Each one feels truer than the last.
His hand slips between us, thumb finding my clit, rubbing in slow circles that make my body tremble. I cry out, arching up into him, the pressure building fast, overwhelming and perfect.
“That’s it,” he says softly. “Let go for me.”
I do, breaking apart beneath him, my whole body tightening and releasing around him. He groans my name, thrusting harder now, chasing his own edge, his control finally slipping.
“Bella,” he breathes, voice thick. “I love you.”
He comes with a shudder, buried deep inside me, holding me close like he never wants to let go. He stays there, pressed to me, our hearts pounding together, sweat cooling on our skin.
For a long moment, neither of us moves.
Then he kisses my forehead, my nose, my mouth again, gentle now. He pulls me into his chest, wrapping me up, like he’s trying to shield me from the world.
Outside the room, the house is quiet. Lily is asleep. For the first time in what feels like forever, there is no immediate danger, no countdown ticking in the background.
Just him. Just us. Nothing else.
The End