Chapter 54
CHAPTER
FIFTY-FOUR
DINARA
Three weeks after I took a bullet for the man I love, I’m starting to feel like myself again.
Well, mostly. There’s still a sharp pull in my side when I move wrong, and my flexibility is shit, but at least I’m not confined to bed anymore. Progress.
I’m sprawled on the couch with Katya, wine in hand, some godawful reality show playing in the background.
She’s been coming over almost daily since I got home two weeks ago, and honestly, it’s been nice.
After everything we survived together in that warehouse, there’s a connection between us that doesn’t need explaining—trauma bonding at its finest, but also something deeper. The sister I never had.
“Your family left this morning?” Katya asks, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“Yeah. I had to promise them I’d FaceTime regularly and visit as soon as I’m fully healed.” I smile. “The penthouse feels much quieter without everyone around, especially Kin.”
She laughs. “Did he ever find a Ninja Turtle like he hoped?”
“On their last day, Kirill took him on a ‘mission’ to find one. They stood over a manhole cover for like half an hour while Kin yelled into the sewer. No luck, though.”
“That’s adorable.”
I grin, then shift positions and immediately regret it when my side protests. “Shit. Still sore.”
“Take it easy.”
“I am. Trust me, Kirill won’t let me do anything more strenuous than breathing.” I take a sip of wine. “But I’m glad Pavel finally stopped sizing Kirill up like he was planning his murder. They even went axe-throwing together. Apparently, they bonded over their mutual love of violence.”
Katya grins, and for a moment she looks lighter than I’ve seen her since the warehouse. But then the smile fades and I catch that flicker of something darker underneath.
She’s changed. We all have, but it’s more pronounced with her. She’s no longer the sweet, sheltered girl who played piano and followed every rule her father set. There’s a restlessness to her now, an edge.
Discovering her father was a monster, the years of being used as a pawn, the terror of that warehouse—all of that sits heavy on her soul.
Kirill and his brothers are better at absorbing the darkness, compartmentalizing it into something they can live with. But this is new territory for Katya. She’s angry. Lost. Trying to figure out who she is when everything she thought she knew was a lie.
“And your parents?” Katya asks. “Did they spend time together while your dad was here?”
I sigh. “I’m sure it’s weird, but yeah, they talked.
Went for walks together in Central Park.
Marina’s still the head of a brutal cartel, and that’s not changing anytime soon.
They lead completely different lives. But I think some of the hurts of the past have been healed. As much as they ever can be.”
“Will she come back to visit you?”
“Yeah. Next month. We’ll probably visit her too when I’m up for it.”
Marina didn’t take over New York as she intended.
Revenge wasn’t as sweet as reconnecting with me turned out to be. She made Ruslan and the others pay dearly, but in the end, getting me back mattered more than any of it.
Katya’s quiet for a moment, then nods. “That’s good. You deserve that.”
We lapse into comfortable silence, the TV droning in the background. Kirill’s in the kitchen, and I can hear the sound of pans clanging, the faint scent of garlic and onions filling the apartment.
He’s been cooking every night when he’s not buried in meetings, insisting I need proper meals to heal.
It’s sweet, even if his hovering drives me slightly insane.
At least I finally got him to stop carrying me from room to room—that ban went into effect three days ago, and he looked so wounded I almost felt guilty.
As if summoned by my thoughts, he appears with the wine bottle, topping off our glasses.
“Is he always like this?” Katya asks, laughing.
“See,” I say to my husband, “Katya thinks you’re overbearing too.”
He smirks. “I prefer ‘attentive.’”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. He leans down and kisses my forehead, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder before he heads back to the kitchen.
“So,” I say, shifting to face her, “Juilliard. You start in the fall, right?”
Her face lights up, genuine excitement breaking through. “Yeah. I still can’t believe it’s real. A few months ago, I thought I’d be married to Elio Valenti, barefoot and pregnant by the end of the year.” She shudders.
“Well, that’s definitely not happening.”
“Thank god.” She pauses. “Because of Newtown Creek?”
I nod. “After everything went down with Marina being revealed as the Ghost, the city’s... tense. The other families think Kirill and I played them. That we orchestrated the whole thing.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Marina’s soldiers targeted the heirs specifically. They separated them from their security, zip-tied them, and loaded them into trucks. She claims it was to scare them into complacency, nothing more. Either way, she ended up letting them go. No one got hurt. But they’re damn pissed.
Katya’s quiet for a moment, processing. “So the truce is over.”
“Yeah. Everyone’s back to watching their backs, competing for territory. The old alliances are dead.”
Which means Kirill, now leading the Bratva alongside his brothers, has been busy in meetings and territorial negotiations. But no matter how busy he gets, he always makes time for us.
She looks down at her wineglass, something complicated crossing her face.
“How are you doing?” I ask instead. “Really?”
She shrugs. “I’m fine. Going out, having fun. Living my life for the first time ever.”
“Yeah, your brothers have mentioned it to me a few times. I guess they’re not used to this side of you.”
“My brothers can mind their own business.”
“They’re just worried. You went through something traumatic,” I point out gently.
“So did you. So did Kirill. Everyone’s been through something.
” Her tone softens. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch.
I just … I don’t know. I feel like I spent my whole life being good, being quiet, being what Papa wanted.
And now he’s gone, and I’m supposed to just go back to being that person?
I can’t. I don’t even know who that person is anymore. ”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “I get it. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself.”
She nods, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. She’s searching for something, trying to fill a void that her father’s betrayal left behind.
Kirill steps back into the room, sliding his phone into his pocket. “You staying for dinner, Katyusha?”
Katya stands, grabbing her jacket. “No, I’ve got plans. But thanks.”
She hugs me carefully, mindful of my side, and then she’s gone.
Kirill walks her to the door, exchanging a few quiet words I can’t hear, and then she’s gone. He returns a moment later and collapses onto the couch beside me, pulling me gently against him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Sore. Tired of being sore.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Give it time.”
We sit like that for a while, comfortable and quiet, the scent of dinner filling the apartment. Eventually, he gets up to finish cooking and returns with two plates of pasta.
We eat together on the couch, shoulders pressed together, and when we’re finished, he takes the plates back to the kitchen.
When he returns, he’s holding a tablet along with a small velvet box.
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s all this?”
He sets the box on the coffee table and hands me the tablet. “Something I’ve been working on.”
The screen shows a detailed intelligence report—a trafficking operation running out of the Balkans, smuggling women and children through a network of shell companies and corrupt officials. Names, photos, financial trails, everything meticulously organized.
“You’ve been talking about wanting to do something meaningful with your skills,” he says, settling beside me. “I thought maybe you’d want to help shut down networks like this one.”
I look up at him. “This is… amazing.”
“You’d have everything you need: my help, Marina’s help. But you’d be calling the shots. Choosing which operations to target, how to dismantle them.” His hand finds mine. “You could use your skills to hunt traffickers.”
The idea sends a thrill through me—sharp and electric.
I study the report again, already thinking through attack vectors, ways to infiltrate their systems and burn the whole operation to the ground.
“You’re the best.” I throw my arms around him, and then immediately regretting it when the stitches pull. I groan, and he can’t help but laugh.
“There’s one more thing. Open this,” he instructs, handing me a black velvet box.
Inside is a delicate gold chain with a bird pendant. The bird’s wings are spread wide, detailed and elegant, with small diamonds catching the light.
“Do you recognize it?” he asks quietly.
I lean closer, studying it. There’s something familiar about the shape, the way the bird’s wings curve. And then it hits me.
“The coins,” I recall. “The Ghost’s calling card. There was always a bird.”
“Your mother told me you gave her this necklace when you were four years old. You found it at a street market and insisted your father buy it for her.”
My throat tightens at the memory.
“It was the only thing she had of you after Ruslan’s men took her. She wore it every day, as a reminder. When she became the Ghost, she used the bird as her symbol. Put it on the coins she left behind.”
Tears prick my eyes.
“She offered it to me. I had it finished in gold instead of silver and added the diamonds.”
I press my hand to my mouth, overwhelmed.
“I know we’re married, but I want to do this right. I asked your father for his blessing, and your mother too.” He lifts the necklace from the box. “Dinara, will you marry me? For real this time. Because you want to, not because you have to.”
I nod, tears streaming down my face. “Yes. God, yes.”
He fastens the necklace around my throat, and the bird settles just above my collarbone, warm and perfect.
“I love you,” he murmurs, pulling me close. “You carved yourself into my soul so deep, you’re part of everything I am. Everything I’ll ever be.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, my fingers finding the pendant. “So much.”
He kisses me then, soft and fierce and full of promise that whatever comes next, we’ll face it the same way we’ve faced everything else.
Side by side.