Tonight showed me what matters.
"Yes," I say. My voice steadies. "I'm staying."
Alexei's knees buckle. He sinks back onto the couch, head dropping into his hands.
"I love you," I continue, looking at each of them in turn. Meeting their eyes. Maksim's controlled intensity. Zakhar's steady certainty. Alexei's wild, desperate hope. "All of you."
Maksim moves first, crossing to kneel in front of my chair. His hands frame my face, palms warm against my jaw. Gentle despite their capability for violence.
"We love you," he says. "Always. Completely."
Zakhar joins him, hand settling behind my neck. Solid. Grounding. His thumb brushes once against my collarbone.
Alexei stumbles forward, dropping to his knees beside Maksim. His forehead presses against my knee, his breath warm through the thin fabric of my sweatpants.
"You're staying," he whispers. Like he still can't believe it.
"I'm staying," I confirm.
Maksim's thumb brushes my cheekbone. Zakhar's fingers tighten on my shoulder. Alexei's hand finds mine, threading our fingers together.
We stay like that, the four of us tangled together while the fire hums.
I memorize this.
Tomorrow, we'll deal with the aftermath.
Tomorrow, we'll figure out what comes next.
The four of us.
Together.
Exactly how it is meant to be.
42
EPILOGUE - ALEXEI
I leave the cold air behind when I step through the front door, shaking off Chicago's November chill. Keys hit the entry table with a sharp clink.
Outside, the world is gray and brutal. Wind cutting through bare trees. Sleet threatening in clouds that hang low and heavy.
Inside, warmth. Safety. Home.
Piano music drifts from Maksim's space. The melody weaves through the hallway, familiar in a way that tightens my chest.
He's playing again.
Maksim's hands used to be weapons. Tools for violence and control and the careful manipulation of an empire built on blood.
Now they're making music.
Victoria did that. Convinced him his scarred fingers could still create something worth hearing.
I peel off my jacket, hang it carefully. My shoulder holster goes in the entry closet, gun heavy and familiar. The routine grounds me. Reminds me the violence is over, at least for today.
I follow the warmth toward the living room, boots silent on hardwood.
