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“But-”
“The boy is confused enough,” I say. “Don’t add to his troubles.”
My words chasten Iosef. The last thing I want is for Ilya to be thrown for a loop by his father’s arrival.
In one fluid motion, Ilya runs to Roman, who bends down to pick him up, holding him close. A new picture forms before my eyes—one that feels so right, so natural, it's like an affirmation from the universe itself. Roman and Ilya, standing there together, looking like they were always meant to be father and son. And in that transformative moment, I realize what my gut has known all along.
No matter the secrets, the mysteries, or the fears ahead, Roman is a man who steps up, who takes responsibility, who embraces the challenge. Iosef was a lesson, a painful chapter in a book filled with trials. But Roman—he's not a chapter. He's the book, the story, the journey.
I stare at my former love, my eyes narrowing into slits as my mind goes into overdrive. Roman's right; Iosef needs to man up, and it's time he faces the consequences. And what better way to mend fences than to offer him to Vladimir, maybe score a peace deal in this spiraling chaos? I pull out my phone, ignoring Iosef’s stuttering questions and terrified face.
I dial Vladimir's number, and he picks up almost instantly. "Valentina," he greets, his voice cold and distant. “How did you get out?”
"I have Iosef," I say, cutting to the chase. "The man who abandoned me and our child. He could be a peace offering, a way to end this madness between us and the Bratva."
Iosef's eyes widen to the size of saucers when he hears my offer to Vladimir. "You can't be serious! Val, listen, I can expl—"
His words are cut short when Samuil, standing like a silent sentinel beside him, grabs his wrist in a vice-like grip and shoots him a glare that could freeze lava. Iosef winces, going mute instantly, his pale face a canvas of pure dread.
"Don't make a sound," Samuil warns, his voice a low growl, and Iosef nods, swallowing hard.
There's a pause on the line, so thick I could cut it. "Iosef is dead. You must be mistaken,” Vlad says.
“I’m definitely not mistaken and he’s definitely not dead. He’s standing right in front of me,” I tell my brother.
Another silence ensues. “I don't care about Iosef," Vladimir finally says, his voice dripping with contempt. "The Russians have infringed upon our territory, and you've turned your back on your own blood. For that, there's no forgiveness."
My heart sinks, but not from sorrow—more from the dawning realization that the brother I knew is lost, swallowed whole by vendetta and hate.
"One last chance, Valentina," he offers, his voice suddenly soft, almost coaxing. "Rejoin us. Kill Roman and come back to your family."
I look at Roman, who stands with a protective arm around Ilya. They're watching me, silent but supportive, like two pillars of strength I didn't know I needed until now.
The answer forms in my mind, clear and resonant, and I almost feel sorry for Vladimir as I say it. "No, I'm where I belong."
The line goes dead, and I can almost hear Vladimir's roar of fury echoing in the distance, heralding an escalation, a deepening of hostilities. But as I slide my phone back into my pocket and look at Roman and Ilya, I feel a surge of something potent and unbreakable—a fierce love that's worth all the risks, all the battles yet to come.
Iosef’s eyes are wide, his body trembling like a leaf in a storm, shocked and scared at the reality he must now face. But my thoughts are no longer with him; he's a loose end neatly tied up.
"We'll deal with it, Val," Roman says, his voice laced with a determination that mirrors my own. I nod, suddenly aware of the gravity of the choices I've just made but also of their utter rightness.
Vladimir can keep his war; I've got something far more valuable to fight for now.
Chapter 31
ROMAN
"Damien, prep the jet. I want you and Nikita to take Ilya to the safe house in Moscow." I issue the command into my encrypted phone, pacing around the opulent penthouse suite as I wait for the confirmation on the other end.
"Understood, Roman. We'll be ready," Damien replies, concise and clear.
I put the phone back in my pocket and turn to Valentina, who looks like she's about to erupt like a dormant volcano. I get it. If I were in her shoes, I'd be the same—reluctant to send my son away. But this is the only logical course of action, given the storm brewing.
"No," Valentina snaps, crossing her arms. "Ilya stays with me."
"I get where you're coming from, Val. But right now, we can't afford to have him anywhere near this impending chaos. It's too risky."
Her eyes flash, defiant and protective. But there's also fear, not for herself, but for her son. "And what if something happens to you, to us, Roman? I can't bear the thought of him being alone."
