He shakes his head. “I can… I can offer you money…”
“Money?” she asks in disgust. “You think money can make me forget how you murdered my son? My only child? Money can’t bring him back. And it won’t save you now.”
I glance back over my shoulder. “Willow,” I say, “take our son to the next room.”
She frowns. “But—”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Our eyes meet, and she nods. Once she slips through the adjoining door into the next room, I turn back to Belov.
I squat down in front of him, savoring this moment.
“Do you know who Ariel was? Who she really was?” When he doesn’t answer, I continue as though he had. “She was Pavel’s fiancé. Their wedding day would have been a month after that meeting.”
“I killed the bitch,” he snarls, still twitching with anger and agony. “I don’t need to her hear fucking sob story.”
I nod. “She should have been here for this. But in her honor, I’ll make your death as painful as she would have.”
“You motherfucking—”
I pull out my knife. “This blade belonged to my brother. I carry it with me always.”
A single slash downward is all it takes to split his stomach open. He groans, but it all happens so fast he doesn’t have time to cry out.
I hand the blade to Luda. “I owe you a great debt, Luda.”
“I was the one who came to you, Leo,” she reminds me, taking the blade from my hand. “You owe me nothing.”
“Take your pound of flesh. But make sure he stays alive.”
“Don’t worry,” she assures me. “I am a nurse, after all. I know how to keep a man from dying.”
I savor the fear on Belov’s face as Luda descends on him. But I don’t need to stay and witness his pain. It’s enough to know that he will suffer.
I leave Belov with Luda and move into the next room.
Willow is standing by the window, but she’s ignoring the view and staring at the door. Waiting for me.
“Leo,” she breathes.
I shut the door and walk towards her. “Did you ever doubt me?”
“There were moments,” she admits. Then she smiles. “But never again.”
“Good.”
“Is it true?” she asks.
“Every word.”
“So, Semyon… he was working with you?”
“He was.”
“He wanted you to take over the Mikhailov Bratva?”
“So long as I took care of his granddaughter,” I say.
“I thought he was a monster.”
“He was a monster,” I tell her. “But he died an honorable man. This was his attempt at making amends.”
A tear falls down her cheek. “I wish I knew, before…”
“He wanted to die, Willow,” I tell her. “He’d had enough of life by the time he wrote to me. But he hung in to make sure it ended properly.”
“So Luda…?”
“Luda gave him a quick and painless death. He asked her to kill him long before Belov gave the order.”
“You knew this would be the outcome all along?”
“It was all part of the plan,” I say simply. “Ariel’s death was the only thing that was never supposed to happen. But even a don can’t play God.”
“At least not all the time, huh?”
I smile, and Willow takes a deep breath. “I think it’s about time you meet your son.”
She takes a step forward and pulls the baby blanket aside to reveal the face of the plump, little baby in her arms.
“He looks like you,” she whispers.
I lift my son in my arms for the first time.
“No. He looks like the future.”
EPILOGUE: WILLOW
ONE YEAR LATER
“I can’t believe he’s one already,” Mom says affectionately.
Pasha stands up only to fall back on his butt almost immediately. I offer him a hand, but he ignores it and tries to stand again.
“Stubborn,” I tease with a smile. “Just like your papa.”
“Whereas his mother accepts help so graciously?” Dad asks, chuckling in my direction.
“Very funny.” I roll my eyes. “So maybe he gets that from both of us.”
“That’ll make life fun for you two when he’s a teenager,” Mom chimes in.
I wave her away. “I’m not thinking about that until I have to.”
Right now, Pasha is still a chubby little baby who needs me. There are some days when I feel like it’s going to stay this way forever. I wish it could.
I rest my head on my mother’s lap and she strokes my hair. I’ve let it grow out the last few months so it falls down to my middle back.
I mentioned cutting it ages ago, but Leo gave me a wicked grin. “But what will I have to hold onto?”
People say it’s impossible to find alone time with your partner when you have a little one, but Leo and I manage it. Frequently. And he makes full use of my long locks every time we do.
“It’s so lovely to spend quality time with the two of you,” Mom sighs.
“But where is Leo?” my dad asks. “I thought he was supposed to be here, too.”
I smile, thrilled that my parents want to see my husband. Apparently, the year I spent with Anya saw the three of them grow quite close.
“Business meeting.” I roll over and turn my face up to the sun.
I love the gardens at this time of year. It’s cool enough that you don’t sweat and warm enough that you can spend hours lounging in the grass, watching fluffy clouds drift by overhead.
“Shouldn’t you be in there?” Dad asks. “You’re one half of the Bratva power couple.”
I laugh. It took them a while to get used to the lingo, but now, it rolls off their tongues easily. Bratva, the same way he’d say IBM or the water company, as if it were merely another normal business doing normal business things. “I chose not to be there.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to be here with you two and Pasha.”
The truth is that, while I’ve grown accustomed to the Bratva lifestyle, I don’t feel the need to be intimately involved in every detail of it. I trust my husband to handle the bulk of the work. I’m more like a silent partner.
Although I have no problem making my voice be heard if I feel strongly enough about something.
“What is it called now?” dad asks. “The Mikhailov Bratva or the Solovev Bratva?”
“Both,” I say. “It’s understood that they both have one don. And Pasha has both names, anyway, so we saw no need to change anything.”
“Pasha Leonardo Mikhailov Solovev,” Mom says. “That’s quite the mouthful.”
I sit up so that I can see both their faces. “Actually, you missed one.”
“Dear Lord, you gave the boy another name?” Dad asks in alarm.
“He’s strong. He can carry them,” I say confidently. “You want to hear his whole name?”
They both nod.
“Pasha Leonardo Powers Mikhailov Solovev,” I say.
My parents stare at me. Neither of them says anything, but their eyes look suddenly watery.
“What do you think now?” I ask, a teasing smile turning the corners of my mouth.
Mom presses a hand to her chest. “Sweetheart, are you sure?”
“I want my son to carry your name. Our name. My real name. Of course I’m sure.”
“And Leo was okay with this?”
I shake my head. “He knew it was important to me. If there’s anyone who knows the value of honoring where you came from, it’s him.”
Mom smiles. “He’s a good man.”