Chapter 49
THEA
One month later…
“How are you feeling?” I’m trying not to focus on how damn good Gabriel looks in his suit.
“Nervous. Scared.”
“That’s normal. You’ll do fine.”
I’m sitting at the head of a conference table in a Midtown law office, trying to look like I belong here.
I don’t. Not yet. Maybe I never will—at least, not in the way these men expect.
But I’m here, and that means something. It means a five-year-old girl who survived her family’s assassination and who had been thought long dead, grew up, survived, and came back to sit at the chair that was always meant for her.
Even if that chair scares the hell out of me.
Alexei is seated across from us, composed as always. Next to him sits Viktor Fedorov—Max’s younger brother. He’s in his late fifties, broad and rough-looking with former-solder energy.
I can tell he’s angry.
At the far end, Grigory Volkov represents the broader Bratva council. He has the seniority and neutrality to ratify whatever it is that we decide.
Grigory clears his throat. Time to begin.
“The council has reviewed the necessary information.” His accent is thick, but his English is fluent. “We have conducted independent DNA verification, as well as witness testimony. Various authenticated records were checked, then checked again.”
With that, he turns his attention to me. I don’t avert my eyes.
“You are indeed Teodora Fetisova—the last surviving heir of Lev Fetisov’s line. By right and by blood, the Fetisov syndicate—its territories, its assets, its obligations—belong to you. And that includes those taken by the late Kolya Sokolov.”
The words settle over the room.
It’s official.
It’s all mine.
“Thank you, Grigory,” I say. My voice is steady; I’ve been practicing. “I want to be honest with everyone, because I think honesty is the only thing that’s going to make this work.”
I pause and take a breath.
“I have no goddamn idea how to run a syndicate.”
Viktor’s jaw tightens. The rest of the Bratva men look at one another. Alexei and Gabriel stay silent—they already know what’s coming next.
I continue. “My father and grandfather built something, something strong. And something that Kolya Sokolov nearly destroyed. The fact that it can be restored—the fact that there are men in this room willing to restore it—means more to me than I can express. But I’d be lying if I sat here and pretended that I’m ready to lead it. I’m not. Not today. Maybe never.”
I glance over at Alexei. He meets my gaze and nods, letting me know he’s ready.
“Which is why I’m asking my cousin, Alexei Petrov, to serve as acting head of the Fetisov syndicate on my behalf.”
Alexei leans forward. “I’ll be relocating to New York permanently.
My security firm will transfer to my second-in-command.
The infrastructure is already in place. My focus will be entirely on rebuilding the Fetisov organization, restoring its territories, and reestablishing the alliances that were severed twenty years ago. ”
“The Petrovs are Fetisov blood,” Grigory says carefully. “Masha’s family. The council will accept this arrangement, provided the chain of authority remains clear.”
“It does,” I say. “Alexei leads with my full authority. Any decision he makes carries my name behind it.”
Viktor speaks for the first time. “And what about the old guard? Max’s people—the men who have been waiting.”
He looks at me sharply. I recognize that kind of stare. It’s the sort of look someone gives when they’re challenging authority. He wants to see if I will stick up for myself.
I do.
“Your brother spent years building a network of loyalists. That network needs leadership. I’d like you to serve as Alexei’s right hand. Co-manage the transition. Help integrate your brother’s people back into the Fetisov fold.”
Viktor is quiet for a long moment. He looks at me, assessing me, sizing me up. I wonder if he’s trying to determine whether or not I’m someone he should follow—or overthrow.
My gut tenses.
“My brother died for this,” he says finally. “Flew across the globe and died on a sidewalk because he believed that you were still alive, believed that the Fetisovs would rise again.” He pauses. “He was right. The answer is yes. It’s what my brother would’ve wanted.”
Relief washes over me.
“For Max,” I agree.
Grigory makes a note. “The council will ratify the agreement at the next formal session, when the entirety of the Bratva can be convened.” He turns to me. “So you’re not off the hook just yet, young lady.”
Chuckles ring out, and I force a smile. “But for now, the Fetisov syndicate is restored under the leadership of Teodora Fetisova, with Alexei Petrov as acting head and Viktor Federov as co-managing director.” He sits back.
“And it should be stated, for the record, that the heir—that’s you, my dear—retains full authority to assume direct leadership at any time, or to designate a successor of her choosing. ”
“Including an heir of her own,” Alexei adds, his eyes flicking to my belly, “in time.”
My hand drifts to my stomach as it has countless times. The bump is visible now—I see it when I’m looking at myself in the mirror. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m going to be a mother.
Gabriel’s hand finds mine under the table and squeezes it.
“In time,” I say. “But not today. Today, I’m just grateful that the people in this room are willing to do what I can’t. My father would be proud that not only did his name survive, but also that there are people who still believe in him, who haven’t forgotten our name or our family.”
And that’s the end of it. The meeting wraps up with handshakes.
As we leave, Gabriel walks beside me, one hand on the small of my back.
“That was impressive.”
I laugh. “What, the way I stepped down from leadership?”
“Well, yes. Not everyone can understand that was the right call to make. There are plenty of people in this world who want power but don’t have what it takes to wield it.
” We step into the elevator. “What I meant was the way you handled yourself. Not everyone can do that. You told dangerous men the truth, and they respected you for it. That’s leadership, Thea. ”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all. Instead, I lean into him as the elevator descends and the polished metal walls catch our reflection—a silver-haired Camorra don and a pregnant Bratva pakhan.
I don’t entirely recognize her yet.
But I’m starting to like her.
Teterboro Airport is very quiet at dusk.
We’re near the private terminal, which sits apart from the main facility. It’s a clean building with tinted-glass windows and a parking area reserved for the kind of cars that cost more than most people’s salary.
Gabriel’s own car idles near the entrance, Dante behind the wheel. We’re standing on the tarmac, the early May wind cutting across the open runway. It’s warm, the hint of summer ahead.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“They’re dealing with the necessary paperwork,” Gabriel says. “It needs to be done right. Trust me, the last thing we want is for her to be sent back.”
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can, I catch sight of her.
Amanda.
She’s being escorted across the tarmac toward a waiting Gulfstream. Two of Alexei’s men flank her. They’re not rough, and she’s not in cuffs, but their posture makes it clear that she has no say in what’s happening. She’s carrying a single bag—no briefcase, no phone, no heels.
She looks ten years older. Her polish and poise are gone. What’s left is a scared woman in a wrinkled gray coat, with dark circles under her eyes and the expression of someone who’s finally realized that every door has closed.
Something twists in my chest, and I almost feel bad for her. Almost. Amanda was a woman with a career, a life, money, and power, and because of the wrong choices she made, this is now her fate.
“Where’s she going again?”
“Krasnoyarsk is the city’s name,” he says.
“It’s in Siberia. Alexei said it would be just the place—and he has contacts there.
She’ll be relocated under a new identity with no access to her accounts, her credentials, or her former life.
She’ll work and she’ll survive. But she’ll never practice law again, never return to the United States, and never contact anyone from her previous existence. ”
“That’s rough.”
“After what she did, it’s mercy. The alternative was a shallow grave.”
I watch Amanda climb the steps to the jet. At the top, she pauses, turns, and looks across the tarmac toward us. Our eyes meet.
I wonder what she sees.
Whatever it is, she turns away and disappears inside the plane. The door closes and I exhale.
“I feel sorry for her. I know I shouldn’t. But I do.”
“That’s because you’re a good person. Better than she deserved to ever know.”
Gabriel turns to face me. The wind ruffles his silver hair, the last light of day catching his features, highlighting exactly what he is—a dangerous, beautiful, impossible man who killed for me and would do it again without a second thought.
“I have something for you,” he says.
With that, he reaches into his jacket and takes out a small box of black velvet.
My heart stops.
“Thea, I’ve spent years protecting you from a distance.
And during that time, I’ve lied to you. I’ve kept things from you.
I’ve made decisions for you. But no more.
Your life is yours to live how you see fit.
There’s only one thing I want, something I want more than anything, and that is for you to live that life with me. ”
He opens the box and reveals a simple, but gorgeous, diamond set in platinum.
“Marry me. Marry me, and we’ll start a new life together, no longer under the shadow of the past. Marry me so we can leave all of that behind and build something new with our child, something full of love.
Behind him, the Gulfstream’s engines whir to life. The plane turns, positioning itself on the runway for takeoff.
I look at the ring, then I look at Gabriel.