Epilogue Six Months Later
Vladimir
Idon’t take orders from anyone.
I run the New York Bratva and have connections all around the world.
Men cower at the sound of my name. Governments avoid my gaze. My word is law.
And yet?—
Here I am.
Driving down a dirt road in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, Georgia, because my wife decided to take a Bratva-related mission alone.
Like hell, that was happening.
This was supposed to be Dimitri’s mission. But since he’s filling in for Luna on Team Phoenix, someone else had to take this job. Isabella said she had someone in mind since Raven and Amani had already been assigned to a separate operation. Which meant Luna should’ve sat this one out.
But no.
Imagine, to my surprise, when Luna’s tracking chip alerted me that she had fled the state.
Yes, I put a tracking device in my wife.
No, she does not know because payback is a bitch.
But because Luna doesn’t know how to fucking sit still, I had no other choice.
And well? I don’t know how to let her out of my sight.
Not after what happened.
Seven months ago, I almost lost her.
I can still feel the warmth of her blood spilling over my hands, the way her body trembled, the way she whispered my name like it was the last thing she’d ever say.
So now?
I’m not letting her do this without me.
The EAO and the Bratva have done countless missions together so far, so this isn’t unusual, but I am still not sending my hard-headed ass wife out on her own.
Especially when this job is supposed to expose a weapons smuggling ring that ties back to one of my old business partners.
And when the men she’s about to hunt down were once my enemies.
The black SUV rumbles over uneven terrain, kicking up dust as I navigate through the dense, overgrown forestry. The mission briefing sits on the passenger seat, but I don’t need to read it again. I already know what I need to.
Luna was supposed to be meeting a Bratva contact—a low-level arms dealer who claimed to have inside information about the traitors siphoning weapons out of my organization.
He’d only agreed to speak under strict conditions—neutral ground, minimal backup, no outside interference.
Luna accepted.
Alone.
My phone buzzes.
I don’t check it immediately. My eyes stay locked on the road ahead, scanning for anything out of place. We’re deep in the woods, miles from any real civilization, the rendezvous point not far ahead.
Finally, when I’m sure we’re alone, I grab the device, glancing at the screen.
Moya Luna.
I answer.
"Let me guess—you’re ignoring my very clear ‘do not follow me’ instructions." Her voice is dry, but there’s a hint of amusement beneath it.
I smirk. "Not ignoring. Just not acknowledging."
"That’s the same thing, Vlad."
"No, Luna, it’s not."
She sighs. "I had this handled, you know."
My fingers tighten around the wheel. “You’re supposed to be in physical therapy, not running around the woods.”
"I’m not fragile, Vladimir."
"No, but you’re just fucking reckless."
A pause.
"I had backup plans."
"I’m your backup plan."
Another pause.
Then she laughs, soft and breathless. "You really don’t trust me to do a job without you, huh?"
"No, I don’t trust the people you’re about to meet." My voice drops, edged with something dark. "They’re my enemies for a reason, Luna. That means I know exactly what they’re capable of."
She doesn’t respond right away.
When she does, her voice is softer. "YA mogu spravit'sya sama, moya lyubov'.”
Fuck.
Her Russian language skills are improving significantly.
I inhale slowly, pushing down the irritation clawing its way to the surface.
"I know that. But that’s not the point."
"Then what is?"
"The point, Lisichka," I murmur, voice low and dangerous, "is that you’re my wife, and I don’t like you running off when technically you’re not cleared for duty just yet.”
Another pause.
"You’re getting soft, husband."
I chuckle darkly, shaking my head. "No, I’m not Lisichka, and you know it.”
Silence.
Then she hums that husky, breathless sound that makes my blood heat. "Hurry up before I finish the mission without you."
"Luna—"
But she hangs up before I can warn her not to pull any more reckless shit.
I check my GPS. Ten minutes away.
I press harder on the gas, the SUV eating up the distance between us.
The warehouse comes into view—a rusted, weather-beaten structure, half-swallowed by overgrown trees, standing alone in the middle of nowhere.
I cut the headlights and park the SUV a good fifty yards away, just beyond the tree line. If anything goes south, I don’t need my only exit boxed in.
The engine cuts off. Silence wraps around me.
I step out, adjusting my jacket, my fingers automatically hovering over the holster at my hip. The air is thick, and the scent of damp earth and pine is coating my lungs.
Something isn’t right.
WHIP!
Something flings past my head so fast that the air pressure shifts. Sharp thunk echos as it lodges into the bark of a tree behind me.
Instinct kicks in.
My gun is out before I even register what the fuck just happened. I aim toward the direction it came from, body coiled, finger twitching against the trigger.
A figure emerges from the trees, silent, deadly, untouchable.
My wife.
Dressed in full camo, face streaked with dirt, her braid tucked under a cap. Ghostlike. Predator-like.
She stops a few feet away, her lips curving into something that’s not quite a smirk, not quite a challenge—somewhere in between.
"That," she says, voice dry, almost amused, "is for following me."
I glance at the tree—a throwing knife buried two inches deep into the bark.
I arch a brow, lowering my gun slightly. "You missed."
Luna tilts her head, expression unreadable. "Did I?"
Before I can react, another blade cuts through the air, slicing down fast?—
Landing at my feet.
Dead center.
A centimeter closer, and it would’ve nicked my boot.
I exhale through my nose, slowly lifting my gaze back to hers.
"And that," she continues, voice syrupy sweet, "is for the chip you implanted behind my ear.”
I take a long, measured step forward, deliberately crushing the knife’s handle under my boot.
Her eyebrow twitches.
Good.
“About time you found it,” My voice drops, slow and deliberate. “But you’re testing my patience right now, Luna.”
"I’d be more concerned if you had any to begin with." She shifts her weight, casually flicking another knife between her fingers. "Besides, I had this covered."
I snort, holstering my gun but not taking my eyes off her.
“Isabella and I had someone in mind for this meeting. We had a plan, Luna.”
She twirls the knife idly. "And yet, I still beat you here."
"Enjoy this mission while it lasts, Lisichka because this running off on your own has to stop.”
Luna smirks.
Then, she launches the blade at me faster than I can blink.
I twist at the last second, catching it mid-air before it can graze my shoulder.
She grins, eyes flashing with something wild and reckless.
"You’re getting better at that, Dracula.”
I step into her space, closing the distance between us until she has to tilt her head to meet my gaze.
"And you," I murmur, "are going to stop throwing sharp objects at your husband, moya Luna. We’ve talked about this before. Do I need to remind you what happened last time you didn’t listen to your Pakhan?”
Her breath hitches, just for a second.
But I catch it.
Instead of backing down, she reaches up, running one bloodstained finger down the front of my jacket, mocking, taunting.
"You like it.”
I do.
Too fucking much.
But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I wrap my fingers around her wrist, tugging her close until her chest brushes mine.
"You don’t want to start something you can’t finish, printsessa."
Her smirk widens, dark amusement curling at the edges. "Oh, Vlad."
She leans in—so close her lips nearly graze my jaw—taunting, fucking teasing. "You know I always finish."
I clench my jaw, reeling myself in, because now is not the time to fuck her against a tree and remind her who she belongs to.
Instead, I release her wrist with a sharp exhale, step back, and force my focus back on the mission.
"Report," I say gruffly, ignoring the way she watches me with too much amusement.
Luna snickers, but she finally turns serious. She crouches down, picking up the knife she threw at my feet and wiping the blade clean against her pants.
"Contact is inside. Two men with him, possibly more. They’re armed, but they’re expecting me alone. No other movement detected outside, but that doesn’t mean they’re alone."
"And you still planned to walk in there solo?"
She shrugs. "Had to."
"Bullshit."
She smirks. "Would’ve been fine."
I glare. "We’re going in together."
"No shit, Vlad. I figured that out when you got a plane and followed me down here.”
I inhale sharply, biting back a laugh at the sheer audacity of this woman.
Luna tucks her knives back into their holsters, adjusts the straps on her vest, and cocks her head toward the warehouse. "Shall we?"
I exhale, rolling my shoulders. "Try not to get in my way.”
She grins, dark and wild, eyes flashing. "Try to keep up, husband."
Luna moves like a shadow, quick, fluid, untouchable. Every step is calculated, her breathing steady, her grip on her blade loose but ready.
She’s in her element.
And fuck if that doesn’t do something to me.
We reach the edge of the tree line, eyes locked on the entrance. Dim light flickers from inside, illuminating the rusted interior. One entry point. Two visible guards.
Easy.
I raise my hand, signaling Luna to wait. She huffs quietly but stops beside me, rolling her shoulders and gripping her blade tighter.
But before we move?—
Her phone buzzes.
The sound is barely a whisper, but it’s enough.
Luna curses under her breath and ducks back, pressing herself against the tree as she pulls out her phone, eyes flicking to the screen.
Amani?
I watch as her expression shifts, irritation bleeding into concern as she answers.
"Amani, I’m in the middle of?—"
Whatever she hears cuts her off.
Her entire body goes rigid.
The color drains from her face so fast it’s like someone flipped a switch.
"Amani, calm down." Luna’s voice is low, sharp—deadly. But I can hear it.
The crack. The underlying panic. Something’s wrong.
I step closer, but Luna doesn’t acknowledge me. She just listens, her grip tightening on the phone, her knuckles going white.
Then, slowly, she lowers the device, her fingers shaking.
I grab her wrist before she can pull away. "Luna?—"
She snaps out of it and blinks up at me, eyes wild, unfocused.
"It’s Raven and Dimitri."
My chest goes ice cold.
She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "They’ve been taken."