Epilogue
Two Weeks Later
Kazimir
Hospitals have a way of making everyone look small, even men like me.
The corridors stretch too long and too bright, washed in sterile white light that reflects off polished floors and turns every footstep into an echo.
I move through them with measured strides, nodding once at the nurse trying to guide me, my expression composed and unreadable, the same mask I wear in negotiations and interrogations, the same mask that has kept men twice my size from testing me.
Inside, however, my thoughts are unraveling at a speed that would embarrass me if anyone could hear them.
An hour ago Makhari Medvedev’s wife called, her voice tight but controlled, explaining that Aly had felt a sharp pain and they were heading to the hospital just to be safe.
“Just to be safe” has never meant anything good in my experience.
I thanked her, ended the call, and was in the car before the screen went dark, already calculating distances, traffic, worst-case scenarios that stack one on top of another until my chest feels too tight.
Damn the Bear for having such remote weapons caches.
I’ve faced gunfire without flinching. But the thought of my wife and child in a hospital, in harm’s way, without me—that terrifies me.
A nurse finally gestures me into a room at the end of the hall. I don’t wait for permission and step inside immediately, my gaze locking onto the bed like a compass finding north.
Aly is propped up against a mound of pillows, hair a little mussed, skin pale with fatigue, but otherwise intact. The sight of her whole and breathing knocks the air from my lungs so abruptly that I have to pause.
She smiles when she sees me.
“Oh, good, you’re here—”
I cross the room in three strides and take her hand, brushing my thumb over her knuckles as if confirming she’s solid. “Of course I’m here,” I murmur, already scanning the monitors, the IV, every detail.
Then I notice the phone on the tray table, speaker lit.
Liev’s voice crackles faintly through it, low and impatient, and Devin’s higher tone overlaps, both of them talking at once.
“You called them?” I ask, confused.
“I wanted everyone together,” Aly says, looking strangely pleased with herself despite the hospital gown and the exhaustion in her eyes.
My stomach drops. Together usually means bad news.
“What happened?” I ask carefully.
She squeezes my hand. “Nothing bad. Relax.”
I do not relax.
Her smile widens. “Kaz… we’re having twins.”
For a second the word doesn’t register.
Twins.
Devin shrieks through the speaker like someone just set off fireworks in her office, babbling congratulations so fast it blurs together. Liev goes completely silent, which is somehow more alarming, and in the background, I can hear Nika repeating his name with growing concern, asking if he’s okay.
I lower myself into the nearest chair before my knees decide for me.
Two.
Two cribs. Two tiny heartbeats. Two lives that will depend on me not failing.
Aly watches me with soft amusement. “You okay, boss?”
I drag a hand down my face, half laughing, half stunned, and look at my wife like she’s just handed me the entire world twice over.
“We’re going to need a bigger house,” I mutter.
“We definitely do not need a bigger house,” Aly says with a roll of her eyes.
My mind refuses to sit still.
It begins arranging the future the way I would a hostile takeover, mapping it piece by piece, identifying weaknesses, fortifying every edge until nothing can touch what is mine.
Even as Aly watches me with that warm, knowing smile, I’m already calculating timelines, security rotations, travel limitations, doctors.
“Twins,” I repeat, staring at the wall like it might offer clarification.
Two.
“You’ll need weekly appointments, not monthly,” I say, the words stacking up faster and faster as the plan builds itself.
“No more long flights, no unnecessary travel, and I want Michael coordinating directly with a specialist in Atlanta or Boston. Actually, both. We’ll keep options open.
You’re on bed rest as much as possible, and I’m doubling security at every property.
We’ll have to redo the house in Savannah, convert the west wing into a nursery, hire two night nurses, maybe three.
And we need two of everything, but not the cheap versions.
I want the best car seats, the safest cribs, the—”
Aly laughs, pleased and incredulous, like I’ve just told a joke.
“Kaz,” she interrupts gently.
“I’m serious,” I insist, already pushing to my feet. “They’ll have the finest things. Nothing second-rate touches my children.”
Before I can continue spiraling into logistics, she shifts and pulls me closer to the hospital bed, deliberate movements that force me to stop and hold her as she swings her legs over the edge. Her warmth seeps through my shirt, grounding me more effectively than any command ever could.
She cups my face with both hands.
“I’m fine,” she says, smiling like this is all very simple. “The doctor already told me everything looks good. I was just stressed and exhausted from all the travel to France and Maine. That’s it.”
I search her eyes for any hint of fear and find none, only steady affection and that quiet strength that keeps surprising me.
“You’re talking like you’re about to lock me in a tower,” she adds, brushing her thumb along my cheekbone. “And you promised not to keep me caged, remember?”
The reminder lands softly but firmly.
I exhale and pull her closer, tucking my face into the curve of her neck where her skin smells faintly like soap and hospital sheets, letting myself breathe her in until the frantic edge inside me dulls. At least a little bit… for now.
“I forget,” I admit quietly. “I see something fragile, and my first instinct is to build walls.”
She threads her fingers through my hair. “Then build them around us, not around me.”
I nod against her skin, my arms tightening around her waist, stunned and grateful and terrified all at once.
We sit there like that, wrapped around each other, laughing under our breath at the absurdity of it all. Two heartbeats about to become four, the future stretching wide and bright and impossible. More than a mafia boss could ever ask for.
What to read next? You’ll love Masked Bratva Daddy: An Age Gap Mafia Romance.