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A soft smile crosses her lips. "Always keeping score, aren't you, Samuil?" she murmurs, her fingers brushing the rough stubble of my jawline.
I capture her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "Only when it comes to you," I murmur, our banter masking the intensity of the relief flooding through me. For a brief, shining moment, all is right in our chaotic world.
But that reprieve is shattered by the ominous creaking of a door and the distinct sound of a chambered bullet.
We spin around to face the new threat, instinctively moving closer together. From the shadows emerges Radu, eyes wild and manic. The yellow light casts ghastly shadows across his face, enhancing the crazed look in his eyes. His fingers twitch around the grip of a semi-automatic pistol, its barrel gleaming ominously.
"Ah, the reunion," he spits with a venomous sneer. "It warms my heart, truly. How touching."
The Dominicans tense, hands inching toward their own weapons. But I gesture for them to stand down. This is personal. And as much as Radu wants to play games, I can see the desperation lurking behind his manic gaze. He's cornered, and that makes him even more dangerous.
"Radu," Ana's voice is firm, unyielding, "it's over. You're outnumbered, outgunned. There's no way out of this."
But Radu only laughs, a bitter, mocking sound. "Oh, Ana. Always the tactician. But you forget one thing. When a man has nothing to lose, it is then that he becomes the most dangerous adversary."
His finger tightens on the trigger, and I instinctively position myself in front of Ana, ready to shield her with my body. My own hand grips the butt of my sidearm, every muscle coiled and ready to strike.
We're at an impasse. The hostility in the room is intense, every heartbeat echoing like the distant drums of war. The Dominicans watch silently, their allegiance clear, but none willing to make the first move, not with Radu's gun so clearly aimed in our direction.
Ana's voice breaks the tense silence, softer now, almost pleading. "Radu, think of what you're doing. Don't throw everything away."
But Radu's laughter is even more sinister this time. "Moscow was the beginning. And now, I will end this, one way or another."
My mind races. I need to disarm him, but any wrong move could be fatal and Ana could get hurt. We need a plan, a distraction. I cast a sidelong glance at Ana, trying to communicate silently. She gives the slightest nod. We've faced impossible odds before, always as a team. And this time will be no different.
Just as I'm about to make my move, Radu's eyes, full of fury and madness, fixate on me. With a swift, almost fluid motion, he raises his gun, aiming squarely at my chest. Time slows to a crawl, each millisecond stretching into an eternity as the deadly gleam in Radu's eyes matches the lethal intent in his grip.
I barely have time to register the impending threat when a blur of movement catches my eye. Ana, with a grace and agility that never ceases to amaze me, lunges, pushing me to the ground just as a deafening shot rips through the air. The bullet meant for me goes astray, embedding into the wooden pillar behind where I once stood.
Using momentum, I twist us, positioning myself to break her fall. Without hesitation, I draw my sidearm. The cold metal feels reassuringly solid in my hand. I don't give Radu a second chance. A single shot rings out, and just like that, the specter from our past has taken his last breath. He stands frozen for amoment, an expression on his face that suggests he’s not quite sure what just happened.
Blood begins to spread through the fabric of his shirt around his heart. He weakly places his hand there, looks down, then drops.
The thick silence that follows is broken only by our ragged breaths. I push myself up slightly, surveying the scene before settling my gaze on Ana.
She smirks up at me, strands of her hair disheveled, eyes alight with that fiery spirit that drew me to her all those years ago in Moscow. "Well, I think we're even now," she retorts playfully, her fingers playing with the collar of my shirt. "For all the rescuing, I mean."
A chuckle from the sidelines draws our attention. One of the Dominicans, a wiry man with a face that tells tales of battles past, grins at us, revealing a gold tooth. "You Russians," he says, amusement evident in his voice, "you really do things differently, don't you?"
The tension in the room, previously so thick you could cut it with a knife, begins to dissolve, replaced by camaraderie and relief.
Ana and I, however, are lost in a world of our own. For a brief moment, the danger, the chaos, and the bloodshed fade away, leaving just the two of us. I lean in, capturing her lips with mine. The kiss is a culmination of everything we've been through, the fear, the adrenaline, the anguish quickly diminishing.
We pull apart, our foreheads resting against each other, as the world slowly comes back into focus. In that moment it was clearer than ever that no matter what life throws at us, we will face it and conquer it together—always.
Not like I ever had a doubt.
Epilogue I
Samuil
One year later…
The events of the last year and a half changed everything. For a man who always prided himself on his steely control and composure, the new rhythm of my life has brought unforeseen challenges that have spun me on my heel. Tonight, we're leaving our son, Niko, for the first time. My gut churns with nerves. The stronghold of the Bratva? Child's play. Leaving my child? A different game entirely.
Elena, our nanny, is already a fixture in our home. Andrei had insisted on her and flew her in from Moscow, a professional who had been with Bratva families for years, caring for their most precious assets. She's impeccably qualified but handing over the responsibility for my son is another matter entirely.
“Remember, he likes the blue blanket, the one with the cartoon dinosaurs. It calms him down,” I instruct, pacing slightly.
