We exited the jet to find a tall, imposing man waiting on the tarmac with a blonde woman holding a newborn.
I’d never interacted with Gabriele Falcone—Cristo’s older brother and head of the Falcone family—but his reputation, especially as Hawk’s most proficient assassin, preceded him. The woman beside him would be Sophie and their child, their newborn son.
I automatically assessed potential threats—Gabe’s stance showed military training, his eyes constantly scanning despite his relaxed posture. A whole army of security personnel and a fleet of black, unmarked, most likely armored Mercedes SUVs blocked every strategic point around the airfield.
A show of force—Italian Mafia style.
Introductions were made with practiced politeness. I assessed Gabe with professional respect while his scrutiny of me showed the protective brotherhood that transcended bloodlines. His eyes moved between Shorty and me, measuring and calculating much as I would have done.
“Welcome to Italy, Zotov,” Gabe said finally. “I’m eager to meet the man who tamed Isabella Salvini.”
Shorty snorted beside me, the sound both inelegant and endearing. “Bold of you to assume I’m tamed.”
The laughter that followed felt genuine and established a new dynamic I hadn’t expected.
Sophie’s warm smile as she shifted her newborn in her arms reminded me strangely of Mila—a gentleness that existed alongside strength.
As we moved toward the waiting vehicles, Vince, Gabe, and I naturally fell into step—a formation that would have been unthinkable days ago.
The women who had clustered around Sophie followed behind, their animated conversation drifting forward.
“We’ve caught Grey,” Gabe said, his tone professional. “He’s secure but uncooperative. Hasn’t said a word since capture.”
Grey’s name sent a familiar coldness through me while images flashed through my mind—the man who shaped me, used me, betrayed me. My expression remained impassive, but internally I felt the predator in me stir.
“He’ll talk to me,” I stated with quiet certainty.
Shorty inserted herself between us at that moment, her hand sliding into mine with natural ease. “We’ll visit Cara in the hospital first,” she stated, her tone brooking no argument despite addressing three men accustomed to command.
I exchanged glances with Vince and Gabe, seeing my own resigned acceptance mirrored in their expressions.
This, too, was new—allowing someone else to direct my movements, to prioritize their wishes over mine.
I kissed her hand. “Of course.” Grey had to wait. Because we would do whatever my beautiful future wife wanted.
The thought of “wife” should have triggered immediate rejection—a lifetime of avoiding attachments, of avoiding feeling too deeply.
Instead, I felt an unexpected rightness to it, a certainty that surprised me with its intensity.
I glanced at Vince. Would that be the next fight, after Grey’s reckoning?
Isabella looked up at me, her expression questioning my sudden stillness. I squeezed her hand in reassurance, receiving her smile in return.
Whatever came next, Shorty was worth it. And we would face it together.
EPILOGUE
Isabella
The reflection of the Swiss Alps glittering in the afternoon sunlight, with peaks dusted with snow despite the summer warmth, made being on the pool deck my favorite place in the whole world.
I hadn’t expected to fall in love with Switzerland when Ivan first brought me here, but now, our sprawling mountainside estate felt more like home than anywhere I’d ever lived.
My fingers flew across the keyboard as I worked through the last section of the report of my latest security audit for the Paraskia.
A lot had happened in the last year.
Little Chiara—a daughter of Vince’s puppy Piper and my constant companion—snuffled and readjusted in my lap, her tiny paws twitching in puppy dreams. I scratched behind her ear, careful not to disturb her too much.
