Epilogue
Victor
It's been two weeks since Dimitri was killed and we came here.
And still, every time I look at her, it feels like the first time I saw her descending those stairs in that red dress, a punch to the gut that leaves me breathless.
She stands beside me now in a long black maxi dress, her blonde hair flowing loose over her shoulders, catching the afternoon light streaming through the tall windows of Lucian's office. I force myself to focus on the meeting ahead instead of the memory of her naked on top of me three hours ago.
When we arrived in Brasov, Lucian was pissed.
Not at the fact that I'd killed Dimitri.
He understood revenge, understood the need to eliminate threats to the family.
No, what set him off was that I'd gone alone.
That I'd let my focus on vengeance blind me to proper protocol, to using the full network at our disposal.
That the confusion between Ivan and Dimitri could have been avoided entirely if I'd just talked to him first, gotten his support, and coordinated properly instead of charging in like some reckless amateur.
His exact words were, "You're better than this, Victor. Smarter than this. Act like it."
I'd taken the lecture because he was right. I had been sloppy, emotional, and driven by the need to protect what was mine rather than thinking strategically.
But given what we found on Dimitri's laptop, what we saw in those files, the trafficking houses, the Siberian Ice distribution, the millions stolen from Ivan's operations, it's clear Dimitri would have needed to be dealt with regardless.
The method might have been different, cleaner, more coordinated.
But the result would have been the same.
Nevertheless, it's all behind us now. Lucian made me agree to no more personal vendettas, to stick to my lane: politics and diplomacy. It's the clean work that doesn't involve breaking into villas and shooting people in the head.
Of course I agreed. It's what I want now anyway. I've had my revenge. I've brought Adrian some peace, given him the closure I thought he deserved after what they did to Elena.
And also because of her.
The woman standing next to me, whose presence has somehow become the center of my entire goddamn universe.
It also helps that everyone took to Danika well. I mean, how could they not?
Adrian liked her from the very first moment, partly to annoy me because she bested me repeatedly and he finds that hilarious, and partly because she helped end Dimitri's life.
Elena and she have become close. Last night, the two of them went to dinner in the square with Jordan, who's in town now with Matei. Three women, three different versions of danger, all laughing over wine while a security detail hovered nearby so my brothers and I could prepare for today.
And even though Ivan Volkov and his two sons are arriving any minute, even though this meeting could determine whether we end this or escalate it into something far worse, all I can do is think about the woman beside me.
The way her skin smells. The way she tilted her head back against my chest this morning in the shower.
The weeks we've spent here since arriving in Brasov have been nothing short of extraordinary.
For three days, we stayed in bed. We both blamed it on her bruised rib, which our doctor gave her medication for, but really, it was because we didn't have to run anymore.
Didn't have to outsmart each other, fight each other, betray each other.
We could just be together. No games. No guns.
Just skin and heat and the kind of connection I've never allowed myself before.
Elena told me I'd be crazy to fuck this up. I agree. In truth, I knew it the first time I realized she was my equal, not just in skill, but in everything. The way she thinks. The way she moves.
And while there's still so much for us to learn about one another, I'm excited for that journey. To be amazed by her every day. To be hers and have her be mine.
"Why are you staring at me?" Danika asks, turning her head slightly, those blue eyes warmer now when they land on me.
I can't help but smile.
"What? Do I look okay?" she adds, a hint of genuine nervousness breaking through her usual composure.
I lean down and whisper in her ear, "Best-looking woman in the room."
She smiles. "I'm the only woman in the room, Victor."
I shrug. "Well, you know I'm right, then."
She rolls her eyes but can't hide her amusement. "Well, I guess you're the best-looking guy in the room."
"You guess?" I ask.
"Lucian is taller," she says, her tone deliberately casual. "The don. And his shoulders are a bit more..."
"All right, all right," I interrupt, narrowing my eyes. "He's got one inch on me. One. You can't even tell. And I'll be the president of Romania soon."
She wraps her arms around mine, pressing close, and I can feel the warmth of her body. "Easy there, tiger. I'm just kidding. You know I think you're the sexiest man alive. I just like to rile you up a bit."
I lean in and kiss her. "You're too good at it," I say against her soft lips. "And I told you, when is a tiger ever easy?"
I drop my hand and quickly grab her ass, giving it a firm squeeze.
"Jesus, you two. Get a room," Adrian says from across the office, shaking his head but smiling.
Matei laughs, adjusting his cufflinks. "You're one to talk. Jordan and I slept in the room next to you and Elena. It sounded like you two were moving furniture."
We all laugh. Even Lucian cracks a smile from where he stands near the window, arms crossed.
"You aren’t much better, brother," Lucian says to Matei.
Adrian walks over and slaps Lucian on the shoulder. "We'll find you someone. Don't worry."
Lucian shakes his head. "I've got too much going on."
"Well," Matei starts, "we could..."
A knock at the door cuts him off.
One of our guards steps inside, his gaze locking on Lucian. "They're here, sir."
The room goes silent. The lightness, the banter, the brief moment of normalcy, it all evaporates in an instant.
Lucian nods once, his face hardening into the mask of the don. He looks at each of us in turn.
"Ready?" he asks.
We nod back.
Lucian turns back to the guard. "Escort them here."
The guard nods and disappears back into the hallway.
Forty-five seconds later, the door opens again, and there he is.
Ivan Volkov.
He's thin, very thin. Gray hair swept back neatly, glasses perched on a sharp nose. He's well dressed in a tailored suit and moves with the quiet confidence of a man who's survived decades in a world where most die young.
Beside him are his two sons.
Nikolai and Lev.
Both tower over their father. Nikolai is broad-shouldered and stone-faced, wearing a dark navy suit. Lev is dressed similarly, but his eyes tell me he's the kind of man who's itching for violence.
Danika mentioned them. She said Nikolai is the strategist and Lev is the hothead.
When the three of them are fully inside the office, the air shifts, and I feel it immediately. Every muscle in my body tightens, my fingers curling instinctively near the concealed weapon at my side.
We all stare at each other for a long moment. No one moves or speaks.
The silence stretches until, finally, Lucian steps forward and extends his hand.
"I'm Lucian," he says, his tone low. "Thank you for coming."
Ivan steps forward, his expression unreadable. He takes Lucian's hand, shaking it once.
"Ivan," he says, his accent thick but his English clear. He gestures to the men beside him. "These are my sons, Nikolai and Lev."
Lucian nods at each of them. Nikolai inclines his head slightly. Lev doesn't move.
"This is Matei, Victor, Adrian, and I believe you know Danika."
Ivan glances at all of us but does not speak.
"Please," Lucian says, gesturing toward the table. "Sit."
We all descend on the dark mahogany table like predators. The Volkovs take one side. We take the other.
I sit directly across from Nikolai, keeping my hands visible on the table but angling my body so I can reach my weapon in under a second if needed.
They do the same.
Danika sits to my right, her posture straight, her expression neutral. But I feel the tension radiating off her, the uncertainty of where she stands in all this.
Matei sits to my left, perfectly still, his gaze never leaving Lev.
Adrian is beside Matei, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on Ivan.
And Lucian sits at the head of the table, the weight of the entire family resting on his shoulders.
The Volkovs don't blink. Don't shift. They look like a pack of wolves ready to strike, waiting for a command.
It heightens my senses, and every sound feels sharper.
I'm thankful my gun is close.
Ivan turns to Danika, his gaze softening slightly. He speaks in Russian to her, his tone warmer than anything he's used so far.
Danika nods, responding in kind. Her voice is steady, respectful. I catch fragments of the words, but not enough to understand the full exchange.
When she finishes, Ivan smiles, then turns back to the table.
He clears his throat, adjusting his glasses before he speaks.
"First," Ivan begins, his voice calm, "I want to acknowledge the intelligence Danika provided. Without her, I would not have known the extent of my brother's betrayal."
He pauses, his gaze sweeping across all of us.
"Dimitri was a traitor. He was hell-bent on destroying you, on building his own empire under the Volkov name. He dishonored our family. Dishonored our business. For that, he paid the price."
Ivan's expression hardens.
"His rogue faction has been purged. All loyal men have been dealt with."
I lean forward slightly, my eyes locked on Ivan.
"And the trafficking?" I ask.
Ivan turns to me.
"It's in the process of being dismantled," he says. "It will take time."
"I'll want proof," I say.
Lev shifts in his chair as he leans toward me, his eyes narrowing.
"You don't need shit," Lev says.
"Enough," Ivan says, raising one hand.
Lev settles back, but his glare doesn't waver.
I stare at him, unflinching.