Epilogue #2
Thanks to Danika, I know Lev is the one who's most likely to escalate this into something we can't walk back from.
Ivan exhales slowly, folding his hands on the table.
"Look, Lucian," he says, his tone shifting. "We've got some things to discuss, so I'm just going to be straight with you."
Lucian doesn't react. He just waits.
Ivan sits upright, his voice growing stern.
"Dimitri was a traitor. Fine. But Maxim..." He pauses, his gaze sliding to Adrian. "He was my nephew."
The room goes still, and Ivan's eyes bore into Adrian.
"He put a bullet in his head. In the Bratva, a life demands a life."
Adrian's jaw tightens. His hands flatten on the table, and I see the faintest tremor run through his fingers before he locks them down.
"We gave you your traitor brother, as you said," Lucian replies, his voice calm. "Stopped your family from spiraling. Kept you from losing control. So, in my eyes, it's even."
Ivan flashes a faint smile.
"You didn't give me anything," he says, pointing at Danika. "She did. So it doesn't count."
Lucian and Ivan stare at one another, and the tension in the room presses down on us.
I glance at Matei. His hand rests casually near his waistband.
Adrian's breathing has gone shallow, and Danika's gone stiff, dreading something.
Time slows for a moment, and then it breaks.
Lev Volkov loses his temper.
He draws his weapon in one fluid motion, lunging across the massive table directly at Adrian.
Everything happens at once.
I reach for my gun. Matei reaches for his. Adrian's hand flies to his waistband.
But before any of us can even clear our holsters, Lucian moves.
He's faster than any man that size should be. Faster than I've ever seen him.
One moment, he's seated. The next, he's up, his chair toppling backward, his body a blur of controlled violence.
He intercepts Lev mid-lunge.
Lucian's hand clamps around Lev's wrist, twisting it inward. The gun clatters to the table as Lev's arm bends at an unnatural angle.
Lev tries to resist, his muscles straining, but Lucian doesn’t let him move.
I draw my gun and aim, and when I glance back, Lucian is pressing the barrel of Lev's own gun to the back of Lev's skull.
The room freezes as everyone has their weapons out.
Danika sits, her hands gripping the edge of the table. Her eyes are wide, darting between the men she's known most of her life and the man she's chosen to stand beside.
And she doesn't know what to do.
I glance back at Lucian, whose demeanor is calm. He isn't even breathing heavily. His hand is steady, the gun pressed firmly to Lev's skull. His gaze is locked on Ivan, with no flicker of emotion anywhere on his face.
Ivan, for his part, looks almost relaxed as he leans back in his chair, but I see the calculation in his eyes. The way he's assessing the room, weighing his options, deciding whether this is the hill he wants to die on.
Lev struggles beneath Lucian's grip as he curses, but Lucian doesn't flinch.
"My brother's life is not on this table, Ivan," Lucian says, his voice low. "But your son's is. If you want a war, we start it right now. If you want an empire, tell them to stand down."
The words hang in the air, and I keep my gun on Nikolai, my heartbeat rising slightly now.
Ivan studies Lucian for a long, agonizing moment, and then, strangely, Ivan starts laughing.
It's a low, rough sound. He then stops and raises one hand.
"Enough," he says, his voice carrying the command.
Nikolai lowers his weapon, and I follow, dropping my gun to the table but keeping it within reach.
Matei does the same.
Lucian releases Lev, stepping back.
Lev pushes himself upright, his face flushed, his breath coming in sharp bursts.
He glares at Lucian, then at all of us, before snatching his gun off the table, shoving it back into his holster, and sitting down.
Ivan smiles and leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming once on the mahogany.
"You've got balls, Lucian," he says again, his accent thick. "I'll give you that."
Lucian doesn't respond.
I glance at Danika. Her knuckles are white where they grip the edge of the table. Her gaze flicks between Ivan and Lucian, her jaw tight.
Lucian moves back to his seat at the head of the table, lowering himself slowly, reclaiming control of the room without a word.
"Here's what we want," Lucian says. "The Volkovs pull out of Los Angeles completely. Whether that was Dimitri's work or yours, it doesn't matter. It ends. You give it to Matei."
Ivan's expression doesn't change, but I see the muscle in his jaw twitch.
Lucian continues. "We also want the European routes Dimitri established under your name."
Nikolai shifts in his seat, his gaze moving to his father. Lev's hands are flat on the table, his fingers spread wide. He looks like he's holding himself back from lunging again.
Ivan takes a deep breath, rubbing his chin. His gaze drifts to the window.
Then he shakes his head.
"If I simply let my nephew's death go," Ivan says slowly, "and hand you Los Angeles and Europe after Dimitri's treason, I look weak."
He pauses, his fingers stilling on his jaw.
"Even if those areas were unauthorized by me and established by my brother, they have our name on them."
He turns back to Lucian, his eyes sharp.
"And if you don't take blood for what my family did to Elena, you look weak. We cannot afford weakness."
Lucian nods absently, his gaze fixed on Ivan. His fingers tap once, twice on the table.
I lean forward, folding my hands.
"I'm sure we can figure something out," I say, my tone smooth, diplomatic. "Neither of us wants to go after the other. If anything, maybe we build on something."
Ivan's gaze shifts to me. He studies me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Maybe," he says slowly. "But I can tell you this. If we walk out of here with just a handshake, our soldiers will be at war within six months. There is too much bad blood left unaccounted for."
Lucian glances at me.
"Like you said, brother," Lucian says, turning back to Ivan. "Maybe there is something."
He pauses.
"And you're right too, Ivan. It's all about how it looks."
Lucian stops, his fingers drumming once more on the table. Then he sighs.
"We make our arrangement a merger, then," Lucian says. "Not a surrender."
I see Ivan's sons exchange glances. Nikolai's brow furrows. Lev's jaw tightens.
Ivan's gaze doesn't leave Lucian.
"Okay," Ivan says, leaning forward slightly. "On the subject of empires, let's build one. Dynasties together. The Volkovs and the Ionescus."
"And how the hell do you propose we do that?" Nikolai asks, his voice flat.
Ivan turns to his son, then back to Lucian.
"I'm what they call old-school. I need something tangible," Ivan says. "And we're giving up a lot. So I need something that cannot be broken without spilling both of our blood."
"What's that?" Lucian asks.
Ivan leans back, his expression unreadable.
"You want my territory and my loyalty?" Ivan asks. "Then you will marry into it. My daughter, Natasha. She will unite our empires, and to the rest of the world, we become untouchable."
The words hit all of us hard.
Lev stands immediately.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he says. "I'm not calling this Romanian bastard my brother."
Adrian leans forward, his hand twitching near his waistband.
"Like hell we are," Adrian says, his voice low and dangerous. "Lucian, tell him no."
But Lucian doesn't speak. He sits there, perfectly still, his gaze locked on Ivan.
"Lucian," Adrian says again, his voice rising.
Lucian raises his hand.
The gesture is small, but it's enough. Adrian stops, his jaw clenching hard.
Ivan ignores his son. He ignores Adrian. He speaks directly to Lucian.
"Dimitri poisoned my house," he says. "And your father poisoned yours. The only way to wash that away and ensure our families never turn on each other again is to forge a new chain."
Lucian sighs and leans back in his chair, staring at the wall, thinking.
"And she'd be open to this?" Lucian asks.
Ivan shrugs.
"She knows her place in this family and her duties."
I lean forward and look at my brother.
"Lucian, I'm all for political strategies, but this is too much."
Lucian turns to me. His gaze is hard and unyielding.
"No," he says. "If it benefits the family, us, then it's the best decision. We are the only thing that matters."
He turns back to Ivan.
"Okay," Lucian says. "We will build a dynasty together."
"You're fucking kidding me," Lev says.
He switches to Russian, his voice rising, his hands gesturing sharply. I don't need to understand the words to know what he's saying. He's pleading with his father to reconsider.
Nikolai stays silent, but I know he's thinking it too. We all are.
Matei shifts beside me, his gaze flicking to Lucian, and I see the tension in his shoulders.
Adrian looks like he's about to explode.
Ivan stands, cutting off his son mid-sentence, and extends his hand.
Lucian stands slowly and then shakes Ivan's hand.
"We have a lot of work ahead," Ivan says. "But great things are in store for our families."
"Agreed," Lucian says.
Ivan turns to his sons, speaking in Russian. His tone is sharp.
Both Nikolai and Lev nod. Lev's jaw is still tight, his fists clenched at his sides, but he stops arguing.
Ivan adjusts his suit jacket, smoothing the lapels.
"In two months," Ivan says, "you will come to Moscow and marry your new bride."
Every muscle in my body tenses, and I stand.
"Someplace neutral."
Ivan's eyes narrow. His gaze shifts to me, studying me carefully.
"We did come here to your home, Ionescu," Ivan says slowly.
He pauses before continuing. "Fine. Montenegro. The Bay of Kotor. See you in two months."
Ivan glances at Danika and says something in Russian.
Danika stands immediately, her movements stiff. She nods, her expression seeming pleasant.
Ivan smiles faintly, then turns back to Lucian.
"Your brother is smart," Ivan says, nodding toward me. "He's got a strong woman there."
He then signals to his sons. Nikolai stands first, his gaze sweeping over all of us. He doesn't speak, but his expression says everything as he walks out.