Epilogue
THREE YEARS LATER
Grayson stands at the edge of the yacht, his hands in his pockets, watching the waves slosh around the boat. Aoife approaches him from behind and wraps her arms around him. “Aren’t you cold? We’re about to eat.”
He breathes in. “Yes, just enjoying the sunset.”
Aoife slides in next to him, appreciating the stripes of golden yellow ushering in deep pinks and purples. “Gray took a full bottle tonight. My dad was pretty excited.”
Grayson pulls Aoife into him, leaning down to smell the salt in her hair. “I love you. You know that?”
She looks up at him, beaming. “I love you, too. But if Sasha is made to wait for whatever games she has contrived, I may lose my next shipment of ARs.”
He chuckles. “All right. Let’s go.”
They walk back in, the warmth of Kieran O’Donnell’s new yacht soothing.
The staff sets the table for the New Year’s Eve dinner.
Kate, Summer, and Luna laugh in the corner.
Sasha and her younger brother set up for the Minute-To-Win-It games while she also argues with Nik’s oldest son about a shipment lost in the Pacific.
Grayson laughs, threading his fingers through Aoife’s. “Never figured crime families would be so … normal.”
Aoife huffs. “Define normal?”
He gestures toward where Luka, Nik, and Kieran stand together.
Luka with his vodka, Nik with his protein smoothie, and Kieran rocking his two-month-old grandson, Gray.
They laugh, the silver strands peppering their hair and dotting their beards, revealing how old they are now.
Brothers till the end they’ll always be.
And when death creeps up and strips them of the life they’ve built, they’ll go in peace because they’ve established a next generation with their women by their side.
They’ve made sure their bloodlines will live on—Morozov, Balakin, O’Donnell.
Bound by friendship, perpetuated by love, and legacies forged with blood ties that’ll never break.