Epilogue
VANESSA
Papa wasn’t the only one to keep a journal.
I did, once, as well. There were only ever a few entries, messily jotted when things were really bad and my emotions needed to be untangled. Which was usually when I was a teenager.
It’s been many years since I last opened it, but in the middle of the summer, one full year after Zeno tricked his way into my life, I dig it out. My fingers stroke the faded, soft leather as I carry it to the end of our bed, take a seat, and flip open the cover.
I skim entries filled with anger about my life and Papa, preferring not to revisit that history because it’s well behind me now. It’s the last page I read, having vague memories of writing this entry.
I’m giving up. There’s no point in fighting Papa anymore.
He’ll dictate every step of my life. He’ll choose whoever he feels is most worthy for me to wed, with no care for my feelings.
I’m done writing in this journal because it’s a trauma dump without any progress.
Nothing will change. Fuck everything, I hate my life. Sometimes I wish I was never born.
“It got better,” I whisper aloud to my younger self.
Progress happened, but it wasn’t an easy journey. Loss and love, hatred and pain, but we got here. Papa’s dead, and I’m freed from his control, leading an organization into a whole other generation with Elite I trust and a man I love more than anything.
“Hey.” That very man knocks on the doorframe. “They’re waiting on us. What’s that?” Zeno crosses my bedroom, which has become ours—just as his room in his villa is now ours.
Although Zeno knows nearly every part of me, my seventeen-year-old self’s inner thoughts are mine alone. For her, who deserves at least one person to show her a mediocre bit of respect.
“A piece of teenage me I pretend doesn’t exist anymore. Give me a moment to put it away.”
Zeno heads out to the hallway, sensing I don’t want him to see its hiding place.
In the closet, I locate the panel in the wall I made forever ago for such things.
It pops out easily, and I drop the book inside, hovering for an extra beat.
Time will tell whether there will be another occasion I look at it again or this will be it.
After joining Zeno in the hallway, he grasps my hand, kisses my palm, and silently leads me downstairs and into the dining room, where everyone waits for dinner.
Given we’re all living scattered, we make it a mission to get together at least once a month in either Rome or Moscow for a meal. These days are some of my favourite because it loops in my entire family—the original four of us, and those who’ve joined us along the way.
With Nero spending most of his time in Rome, Zeno is able to live with me, running the Cosa Nostra from afar while I keep the Bratva strong and together.
Thus, Anastasia spends most of her time with Nero, flying home once every few weeks to stay on top of the brothels and visit us.
Her non-brothel duties have shifted to Lev, and even some to Katya, who’s taken a slight interest in the Bratva the more she sees how it won’t ruin her personal safety.
Lev and Serafina still live in the mansion while she finishes school, but the construction on their home not even ten minutes away has begun.
Lev hasn’t mentioned the property purchases to Serafina yet, and my bet is the day she’s told is the day he pops the question.
Dimitri and Katya live in her childhood home in the cute Moscow neighbourhood but are around frequently for work.
When we get together in Rome, Gabriella and Elio are able to join us, and sometimes even Nero’s papa, who revealed an entire other side of Zeno. Zeno’s never mentioned his close bond with the elder civilian and the major respect he has for the man.
The next bet we all have going is when Gabriella and Elio will announce their relationship. Even if the two haven’t put it into their own words yet, it’ll definitely happen.
A bet about them. The ongoing one regarding Lev’s proposal. And a newer one made the other month: how many times Ana will avoid marriage before Nero breaks her down.
Chatter dies as Zeno and I stride to the far end of the table. He pushes in my chair at the very head before sitting on my right and taking my hand in his. My gaze passes over everyone while mentally rereading that last passage from my journal concealed upstairs.
Not only did life progress, but it changed for the better for everyone.
Dimitri found his soul again through Katya.
Lev found a future in Serafina.
Anastasia found growth with Nero.
And then, myself. A husband was once believed to be the end of my life. Under Papa’s rule, it probably would have been. With Zeno, my reign never ended. My life didn’t get stolen.
It became more.
“I know that look.” Dimitri’s voice slices through the fog from where he’s seated on my left. “When you think, people die. Who is it this time?”
“No one. Hopefully it stays that way for a while.”
Zeno, playing with my fingers, huffs. “We’ve joined forces. At some point, we’ll be the target.”
“But we’ll deal with it,” Nero calls down the table, dramatically thumping his glass of water against the table. Months of sobriety continue to pay off, especially since he’s found healthier coping mechanisms.
His healthier coping mechanism merely smiles in my direction.
Ana’s been much happier since their murderous excursion of taking out everyone from her past. “Damn right. At least you prevented a war with the Romanos by returning Alexis Graves to them. Although, what an amusing twist that turned out to be.”
The trip pulls a fond memory to the front.
Adrian Romano didn’t seem to care much for Alexis after returning.
In fact, he looked a bit put out, having then already married her twin.
His expression stated what he didn’t verbally say, and a part of me wondered if Alexis being in Russia was more his doing than hers.
If he suspected her family would swap daughters, which was his goal.
My own Capo is an example of how determined these Cosa Nostra men can be when they’re chasing a woman.
“From what I heard, Romano never divorced the twin, Harley.” Zeno chuckles beneath his breath. “He defends her fiercely.”
“They owe you both for your assistance,” Dimitri says. “More favours to gamble.” He nervously glances at Katya, who isn’t aware of his own deals with Nico Corsetti that will one day be called upon after Corsetti provided assistance in finding his father some months ago.
“Yes,” I muse, thinking about the Graves’ father, the sweaty, nervous man I couldn’t wait to get away from. He commented how nice it was for our two organizations to be working together. “I’m sure we’ll hear news from them sometime in the future.”
Zeno’s thumb rubs over the back of my hand. “Once, I wasn’t sure what the future would hold. And now…” He makes a meaningful scan around the room.
It’s wild to consider how a year ago Zeno was the enemy I wasn’t even aware of having. No one here would know one another, let alone be in the same room without trying to murder them.
All this because Zeno came after me that night in the club.
No, I mentally correct, the reason we’re all here right now filing in instead.
“Papa,” I murmur, ending some of the mumbling around the table.
“This life is ultimately owed to him, as insane as that sounds. If he never made deals with the Famiglia to move against Giovanni Mancini, Erico Rossi wouldn’t have killed him.
Had he still been living, I wouldn’t be Pakhan.
Dimitri, Lev, Ana—you’d be under your papa’s control.
Zeno would never have targeted us if Papa didn’t have the power to go against his father, which means I’d never know about Sera.
” My eyes flash up to her, then the man beside her.
“You and Lev wouldn’t have met. Ivan wouldn’t have pulled the shit he did, which means Dimitri may not have reconnected with Katya.
Ana would remain as their father’s weapon, and Nero would be a brief moment in time. We owe his death a lot.”
Silence spans the rooms. Shared looks. Smirks. And thoughts.
Until Dimitri lifts his wine glass, prompting the rest of us to follow. “Cheers to Ursin Volkov’s death.”
After everyone drinks and lowers their glass, the silence continues until a small voice a few chairs down murmurs, “I’d probably be married to Alessio.
” Serafina darts a tense glance at her brother, then Lev.
“The news would have broken, but regardless of Ursin recognizing me, the Vitales would’ve gone for the claim.
Maybe I wouldn’t have had the motivation to fight as hard. ”
Lev pales a bit and grips her hand beneath the table. “I’d probably be back in jail.”
“And I’d be in a stranger’s bed,” Anastasia chimes. “Or dead.”
“Dead of alcohol poisoning over here.” Nero hoists his water glass with a deep chuckle full of irony.
“Don’t forget the number of women and kids you saved by shutting down the trafficking ring.” Katya leans forward to see Ana better. “You opened clean and legal businesses for sex work and saved thousands in captivity, plus whoever else would have been captured since then.”
“Maybe we still would have met.” Zeno lifts my hand to place a kiss on my wedding band. “On different sides of a war.”
“Sometimes the bad shit happens for a reason,” Katya murmurs. “My therapist once taught me that. Not that you think your papa’s death was bad, but you know what I mean.”
I nod, sipping from my glass again while considering my life, which is everything Papa never gave me—the Bratva, a family, a husband.
Fuck you, Papa. Fuck. You.
As conversations resume, I lower a palm to my stomach.
And a motherfucking empire for generations to come.