Epilogue
EPILOGUE
ZANAE
a few months later
I hope the cake is good.
What if he hates it?
I was waiting for Elijah in the penthouse, a symphony of anticipation and excitement played in my veins, as I hid behind the door, anticipating his arrival.
In my hands, a cake with a symbolic candle shaped in a star.
Why do I want to cry?
It was his birthday today. The love of my life’s birthday.
Fortunately, Nikolai and Ben couldn’t keep a secret about it. I had spent my morning cooking a chocolate cake with strawberries scattered all over.
I don’t know if he likes chocolate that much, but he loves me, so this will do.
My baby is turning 34.
Lévi, my new Russian bodyguard, helped me and found an occupation for the Pakhan this morning. I had a surprise for my love and only awaited his presence. Moments later, he arrived, stopping in front of me, a smile spreading across his face.
Genuine.
Happy .
God, I love this man.
He approached me, smiling almost shyly, and I just whispered while holding the cake close to him, the candle flickering, “Happy birthday to you, Hayati . I’ve never been so excited to celebrate someone’s life as much as yours. I love you with all my heart.”
I lifted the plate in front of him, the flames of the candle dancing in his eyes, alive and beautiful. “Blow out your candle, now, baby.”
He smiled at me, as if I filled his heart with love and joy, as if I gave him something he had never known and my heart exploded. I was finally giving him a part of the world I wanted to share with him.
He smiled, and it wasn’t easy for him to do so.
He then leaned in and kissed me, lovingly as always, maybe more this time, “Thank you, Milaya . You didn’t have to do that.”
I planted another soft and delicate kiss on his cheek, “Of course I had to. Come on, make a wish.”
I would do so much more for him.
Elijah
Wasn’t I the luckiest man alive?
My favorite and only obsession stood before me, wearing one of my hoodies, holding a cake, and she was smiling.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered against her cheek.
She was. My baby made my existence less painful.
I looked at her then at the cake, closing my eyes, realizing I had everything I had ever dreamed of — this woman I loved and who loved me, a tight-knit family for whom I would be willing to die and destroy everything to protect.
She chuckled and with that sweet curiosity in her that I adored, she asked, “Took you a while to decide on your wish. What was it?”
Taking the cake from her hands, I placed it on the table behind her, then wrapped Zanae’s arms around my neck.
My thumb brushed her lips, moving slowly just to make sure she was here—alive, healthy, safe, happy, and with me. I wanted to ensure this moment was real.
I was almost sure that my heart took the shape of those beautiful amber eyes who looked up at me with so much love and life.
Leaning in, I expressed, “My beautiful Little Nightmare . You’re my only wish and gift. Having you with me fills my soul with life.”
Our lips met, intertwining in a dance of our own creation, like we were the sole choreographers.
Ecstasy and euphoria exploded around us.
Our souls kissed at the same time, tenderly, devotedly, and mostly adoringly .
Zanae pulled away, a smile forming near my lips. “I have a gift for you,” she whispered.
She had something else for me?
I kissed the tip of her nose, finding eternity in her gaze, and a home in her touch. “You didn’t have to do anything, Zanae.”
She took my hand, shaking her head. “Nonsense,” and led me to the couch, pushing me to sit and settling on my lap.
Zanae placed her hand on my cheek and spoke in a soft, loving voice, “You’ve taught me to breathe, to smile, cry, laugh, and have fun. You’ve shown me how to hate and to love. You embody everything good, and everything flawed within me. Elijah Volkov, you healed my scars with your kisses. My heart beats to the rhythm of yours, and I wanted it to remain etched on me as it is within me.”
I gazed at her, a mix of curiosity and love reflected in my eyes.
She lifted her wrist, and on her scars was a tattoo, a heartbeat, with a name on the peaks: ‘ELIJAH.’
My name, on her pain. Etched on her skin.
Our scars merged and became our own salvation.
A place where our brokenness completed each other, harmonizing our hearts in the melody of our love—dark and tragic, beautiful and twisted.
My eyes widened; I didn’t know what to say. So I just caressed the tattoo and placed a tender kiss on it. I was so in love with her it scared me.
I gently placed my hand on Zanae’s throat, drawing her closer. “I love you so much, Milaya . I would have loved you even if love didn’t exist,” I whispered.
And I would. The word love isn’t adequate for my feelings. It’s a drop in the ocean of devotion I truly feel when it comes to my Zanae. ‘Love’ was too light. It was faith in her that consumed me, as if she held a purpose greater than life itself. Greater than my own life. Profound with no limits.
But she had something else to show me. “Close your eyes for me,” she asked.
I closed them and immediately felt her delicate fingers opening my palm.
She traced the lines of my hand slowly and I just let her do it. Hypnotized by the feeling of her fingers on my skin.
“Open them again,” her soft voice expressed.
A constellation.
“Her name meant ‘light.’ She would have been so proud to see that her son is still spreading that light.”
Noor . My mother. She never forgot about that.
And I felt like the child I once was, looking at my palm, stars etched on the scarred skin I hated so much.
But I didn’t see the blood, or the bruises on my mother’s face.
I saw light and love, affection and life.
Gentle lips pressed against those scars like a balm. Love and devotion marked every kiss. “Happy birthday, Hayati ,” she murmured.
How do you thank the pulse of your own heart?
I didn’t know.
But she was that pulse, and without her , there wouldn’t be me.
I kissed her, gently and softly, savoring the taste of my own paradise, relishing the feeling that filled my heart, the sensation of drowning in this love.
Painful, devastating, but sublime.
That seraphic feeling only she could evoke in me.
My beautiful Nemesync, as I had taken to calling her these past few weeks.
Pulling away, I smiled, my hands slipping under Zanae’s sweater. Cold fingers grazed her skin as I whispered, “Can I now show you how grateful I am for what you’ve done, Nemesync ?”
She chuckled and rose from my lap. “We’re going out to join Niko and Benny; they’re waiting for us at the club. They also want to wish you a happy birthday.”
Fuck them. I needed to have her all to myself.
I gave Zanae a playful spank and got up too, “I hate these men sometimes. Can’t wait for you to wear me like a necklace all night long.”
Afterward, we headed to the car. The journey was silent, our eyes meeting in silent understanding. Zanae planted small kisses on my neck, while I reciprocated by placing some on her hands, wrists, and arms.
I always caressed those scarred wrists of hers.
I loved them because they kept her alive.
“I love you,” I whispered against that tattoo.
She smiled and whispered back, “I love you too. And I love these scars, because of the name that adorned them, and because it meant that even broken, I’m still beautiful, I’m still yours, and I’m still alive.”
“And for as long as our souls exist, you’ll forever be beautiful, mine, and alive,” I promised.
After a few minutes, we arrived at the club, where Nikolai and Ben were already waiting outside, wearing a big smile. I opened the door for Zanae and helped her out. Niko didn’t miss a beat and hugged me tightly, his arms outstretched in excitement.
Zanae couldn’t help but laugh warmly at this.
“Happy birthday, my brother.”
“Thank you, Niko.”
Ben came after, hugging me too, “Happy birthday brother. Can I hug Zanae too, or are you going to kill me?” He asked, laughing as I pushed him away, wearing a genuine smile.
“Make it quick,” I answered seriously.
Benny went on and hugged Zanae. She attached herself to me, while Niko grabbed her shoulders, saying, “Show me the tattoo now that we can’t hide it anymore.”
Zanae raised her arm, revealing the wrist tattoo that Nikolai had helped create, keeping it a secret from me.
“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Niko admired, looking at the ink on my woman’s skin.
My fucking name, on my fucking woman. It felt gracious.
“You have so much love for this man right here, don’t you Little Z,” Ben teased her.
But she just laughed and kissed my cheek before answering, “Way too much.”
10.
Life and Love. Finally with my Little Nightmare.
This birthday meant everything to me. It signified that Zanae had survived enough to be here with me. It also meant that I had survived another year, breathing and spending time with the other half of my own soul.
It meant that pain wasn’t the only thing that composed my existence; somehow, a drop of happiness subsisted and fought for me to feel it.
I waited for my annual gift to come, but this year, it will not hurt as much as before. Because I had Zanae Dellé with me. And maybe this time I’ll tell her about it.
We entered the club, laughter ringing out. Inside were waiting Brian and Miranda surrounded by guards. We were beginning to experience a semblance of happiness.
Happy birthday to me, I guess?
HIM
Ebony hair, pale skin... Just like me. She was smiling, laughing, but then she looked at the sky sadly before the Don pulled her out of her reverie.
She resembled an angel, and she was real.
She was there, alive, and happy.
The Huntress.
They didn’t know that someone was hiding in the dark, watching them one by one.
That shadow was the same person who had just killed Elias Dellé and was now looking at her, and it’s me.
And little did she know, her life had just taken an unexpected turn, propelling her, Miss Zanae Dellé, into the role of the formidable leader of the Lebanese mafia.
She became the first woman to take this role, the new Emira.
Welcome to the underground world, Sestra .
To be continued...