52. Kanyan
I ’m no cupid. Never have been, never will be. But watching Rafi spiral out of control since our return from Russia makes my gut churn in ways I’m not used to. The kid’s been a shadow of himself, staring out windows, his silence heavier than a loaded gun. He’s not built for this kind of heartbreak, and honestly, I’m not built to watch him wallow in it.
Rafi shifts slightly in his seat, a faint flicker of movement that catches my eye. For a moment, I think he might say something, but he doesn’t. His silence wraps around him like armor, impenetrable and suffocating all at once.
Rafi’s sorrow lingers like a deliberate shadow, and I wonder how long it’ll take before he finally finds his way out of it—or if he ever will.
The Vasili Teskin situation is almost wrapped up, thank God. Paying penance to avoid a war isn’t how I’d choose to spend Family funds, but sometimes money buys peace. Expensive peace, sure, but better than blood in the streets. But the fact still remains that he poses a danger.
Dante Accardi asked me to reach out to him, make him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Despite the fact that the man tried to kill every last one of us on what should have been the happiest day of Brando and Mia’s lives.
“Make the deal,” he’d said. “Then get on a plane and come see me in Seattle.”
So Seattle will be my next stop after we make it home and everyone is settled back into their routine nicely. It may seem like things are calming down, but I know that with my visit to Seattle, there’s a storm brewing. I can feel it in the marrow of my bones.
We’re boarding the plane, everyone accounted for. I’m halfway up the stairs when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Instinct kicks in, and I step back down to take the call. The voice on the other end delivers news that derails everything. My jaw tightens, and I glance at the plane. I’m not staying in Ukraine a second longer than I have to—but this can’t wait either.
Ending the call, I climb back up the stairs with a new plan formulating in my head. By the time I reach the top, my mind’s already made up. I head straight for the cockpit, where the pilot waits for instructions.
“We’re making a little detour,” I say, calm and matter-of-fact. The pilot nods, used to last-minute changes. War-straddled skies don’t scare me, not when there’s something important that needs to be done.
Back in the cabin, the air feels heavy. Rafi sits by the window, his profile lit by the dying light outside. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even glance in my direction. His silence is deafening. It’s not just heartbreak in him—it’s defeat. And it pisses me off more than I care to admit.
Jack’s sharp gaze meets mine from across the aisle. The tilt of his head, the faint crease in his brow—he’s curious. He’s always curious. I don’t miss the subtle shake of his head, the wordless question in his eyes.
“We need to make a quick stop,” I tell him. “No need to disembark.” I keep my tone light as I tell him I just need to drop something off.
Jack raises a brow, his lips twitching at the corners. He’s warming up to me, whether he’ll admit it or not. The guy’s sharp, and I can see we’re going to get along just fine.
The plane lifts off, and the roar of the engines fills the cabin. Rafi stays glued to the window, his reflection ghosting against the glass, while Jack leans back in his seat, watching me with an air of quiet expectation.
The landing is smooth, the wheels touching down with barely a thud. Outside, the airfield is barren and gray, a place that feels like it’s holding its breath. The engines cut, and for a moment, the silence inside the cabin is absolute.
I stand, stretching the stiffness out of my legs. “I won’t be long,” I say, mostly to Jack.
Jack nods, his eyes still glued to me, curiosity simmering beneath the surface. Rafi doesn’t even blink, his gaze still lost in the distance.
I step outside, and the cold air bites at my skin, sharp and unforgiving. A car appears at the edge of the tarmac, speeding toward the plane like it’s racing against the clock. The headlights cut through the gloom, and as it screeches to a halt, a figure emerges.
She’s running before the car fully stops. The sight of her—hair flying, determination etched into every step—hits me like a slap. I yell over the wind, my voice carrying across the open space. “Rafi!”
The sound of his name must snap him out of his stupor, because Rafi comes to stand beside me at the exit. He hesitates, his body frozen for a heartbeat, before he starts to move. His movements are slow at first, cautious, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
But then he understands what’s happening.
Tayana.
He stumbles down the stairs, his pace quickening with every step until he’s sprinting. By the time he reaches her, she’s flying into his arms, and he catches her like she’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
The wind whips around them, but their voices cut through it. Tayana’s calling his name, over and over, and Rafi’s murmuring something I can’t hear, his face buried in her neck. He spins her around, holding her like he’ll never let go.
When he sets her down, his hands cup her face, and for the first time since we left Russia, I see life in his eyes. He says something to her, his lips moving with a fervor I’ve never seen, and then he kisses her.
Not a soft, tentative kiss. This is desperate, consuming, the kind that says everything words can’t.
I lean against the doorway of the plane, a smirk tugging at my lips. Finally, these two idiots figured it out.
My gaze shifts to the car. Igor leans against the hood, his arms crossed, a rare smile on his face. He catches my eye and gives me a short wave.
I wave back, shaking my head. Igor was the biggest obstacle to Rafi and Tayana, the staunchest opponent of their relationship. Now, he’s the one who brought these two together and made this moment happen.
Rafi and Tayana are still standing there, holding on to each other like they’re the only two people in the world. And for the first time in a long while, all I can feel is peace and quiet and everything is exactly as it should be.
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