As usual, Blake Carter was as imposing as ever in his dark suit and dark aura. But tonight, his hand rested gently on Lillian’s back, and for once, he looked human.
They both did, smiling, holding flutes of champagne, their eyes occasionally flicking toward Mira.Grandparents now, huh?The kind who buy too many toys and pretend not to know about bedtime rules.
“I still don’t trust him,” Matvey said beside my ear, voice hardening slightly. “Or her.”
“I know,” I replied quietly, because he echoed my thoughts.
I wasn’t sure I fully forgave them either. My father was silent when I needed him most, except for when he’d been held hostage by Matvey. I’d walked through fire, and they’d stayed dry on the other side. But Mira loved them. And for her, I could make peace with ghosts.
“Tonight’s not for them,” I said, turning to face Matvey fully, my hands sliding up the lapels of his jacket. “Tonight’s for us.”
His eyes darkened, and that look in them…the one that always melted my spine and made me forget the world. “You’re right,” he said, voice thick. “So let’s make it count.”
Before I could answer, he kissed me, like he needed to brand the memory into my bones, and I kissed him back with everything I had. His hand tangled in my hair, and mine gripped his jacket tightly.
It didn’t matter if all of our guests could spot us in an instant; for now, it was just him and me.
***
Mira’s soft breaths tickled my collarbone, her little body heavy with sleep against my chest. She clutched a corner of her blanket in one hand, the other tangled in my hair.
The party had long been over. Outside, the skies were pitch black and starless.
I tucked Mira in, brushing her curls from her forehead as her lashes fluttered.
Her breathing steadied first, then deepened. One little arm flopped over the stuffed bear Matvey brought back from Vienna last month. The one she weirdly named “Bearski.”
“Goodnight, my love.” I pressed a kiss to her temple. “Dream soft.”
I turned off the lamp and sat on the edge of the bed, just watching her for a moment longer. Then, I remembered one of Matvey’s family that couldn’t make it to the party.
He hadn’t been invited, and if he had shown up, I knew Matvey wouldn’t have hesitated to feed him to the dogs. He’d made that threat once, and I believed he would do it.
Rurik’s shadow had long since vanished.
The last anyone heard, he was rotting in some forgotten flat two cities over, drinking himself toward death. No one here said his name anymore.
He was dust in our rearview, and we had no intention of looking back. His story ended the moment Matvey chose to let him walk free. The moment the brotherhood made sure he wouldn’t rise again.
Barely a moment later, Matvey walked into the room, smelling like soap and an unfamiliar cologne. The way the air shifted when he walked into any room was something I knew as well as my own heartbeat.
He sat down beside me, his weight sinking into the mattress, as his arm brushed mine. I leaned into him without hesitation.
His lips brushed the top of my head. “She’s out?”
I nodded. “Finally. Took a war and three bedtime stories.”
Matvey chuckled low under his breath, and it warmed me. His hand found mine, rough fingers curling around mine.
We sat in welcome silence for a second, just taking in everything and enjoying each other’s company.
Then I asked it, a question that had lingered quietly for months but never had the chance to be aired.
“If you could’ve been someone else,” I whispered, “someone who wasn’t Matvey Yezhov, not part of the Bratva…who would you have been?”
He didn’t answer right away. His thumb moved slowly along the back of my hand, and I knew he was thinking. I finally turned to him, and his eyes were on Mira.
“I used to think about that all the time,” he said. “Back when I was younger. Before you. Before her. During those days when all I wanted was quiet anonymity. One time, I wanted to be a carpenter in some small forgotten town. Work with my hands and come home to a wife and probably children waiting up for me to join them at the dinner table.”
