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I lay my head against his chest again, hearing that steady beat of his heart.
Softly, so softly that I don’t know if he’ll hear me, I say, “Thank you for forgiving me.”
“I’ll always forgive you, baby girl. Just don’t leave me again.”
“I won’t. I can’t.”
The rain drips down off our clothes, and blood too. Soon there’s a pool around our feet, threads of scarlet diffusing across the white and black tiles. Our boots squelch in the puddles.
Our bodies ache, our heads spin. I’ve never been in more pain.
And yet I’m happy.
So happy I could die.
* * *
EPILOGUE
SABRINA
2 Months Later
In the month after the shootout, it felt like everyone in Moscow wanted to kill us. The High Table was in a fury, thekachkiwanted revenge for Cujo, and even Krystiyan Kovalenko had a cousin or two who liked him enough to care that Adrik cut his throat.
Even with the Wolfpack standing by us and Adrik’s family backing us up, we would have been in serious shit. It was the Winter Diamond that saved us.
My father was right—the High Table’s obsession with Russia’s most beautiful gem borders on the superstitious. Serafim Isidor seemed to believe that the Bratva had suffered nothing but back luck since they lost it. He was willing to agree to almost anything to get it back.
My dad came to Moscow to broker the deal, and to make amends to the Bratva in person. He can be very charming when he wants to be. After three hours of negotiations, Isidor was placated enough to apologize in turn for Alexei Yenin’s betrayal of the blood oath.
My dad stayed afterward to take Adrik and me out for dinner. I think Adrik was nervous—he hadn’t seen my father since their car ride together, and the last time my dad saw me, I wasn’t exactly at my best.
I arrived at the restaurant shining like a star, in brand new dress, hair glossy, face immaculate, not a bruise to be seen. I hung on Adrik’s arm, overflowing with happiness to have two of my favorite people at a table together.
My father looked more than relieved when he saw me. We talked all through dinner. I could tell he was impressed with Adrik’s descriptions of our supply chain and distribution models. When he found out Adrik plays chess, that was almost enough to make him smile. In time, he might accept that I really do love Moscow—maybe even more than Chicago.
The diamond wasn’t the only price to wipe our slate clean—Adrik and I have to pay the Koslov family an outrageous percentage of our earnings for the next two years. SinceMolniyaand the rest of the line-up continue to earn money faster than we could ever spend it, it’s not the worst deal in the world.
It helped that Nikolai Markov supported us. Isidor cares what he thinks much more than Foma Kushnir, who flatly refused to vote in our favor. Ilsa probably put in a good word with her dad, or Nikolai simply realized how profitable it would be to renew his contract for our pills.
Ilsa comes to see me weekly to pick up fresh product. She hasn’t quite resigned herself to Simon, but her and Neve are as close as ever.
Thekachkistill hate us, not that they have the pull to do much about it. As long as we stay away from their favorite gym, we should be fine.
Krystiyan’s relatives likewise hold a grudge. The Petrovs and the Malina already loathed each other, so that’s basically status quo.
You’re always going to have enemies in our world. All you can do is make it lucrative for people to keep you alive, and dangerous for them to kill you.
Hakim and I abandoned Yuri Koslov’s lab and returned to the old brewery. It took a shit ton of effort to make it operational again, but with all the hours we work, it’s the only way he can see Alla as often as he likes. He brings her lunch from her favorite places so she doesn’t have to cook any more than necessary.
He didn’t give me too much shit about burning the lab. All of the Wolfpack were more forgiving than I feared, even Vlad—they only had one stipulation.
“It’s time for you to get your patch,” Jasper says.
I groan, even though I knew this was coming.
I’ve always liked tattoos, but never felt sure I could commit to one on myself. Even though the idea of stamping my arm with the Petrov wolf is not as anathema as it once was, I can’t say I’m thrilled about the idea.
