I’ll do anything—burn any empire, shatter any alliance, commit any sin—as long as Vivian is safe.
And tonight, the Kovals learned exactly what that means.
When the smoke finally thins, and the last gunshot fades into the rain, Sylvester limps toward me through the wreckage—blood on his sleeve, soot on his jaw, eyes sharp even through the exhaustion.
“It’s done,” he says. “Warehouse is secured. No survivors. The Kovals are finished…for now.” He pauses, catching his breath. “Oh—Roman texted. Henri Laurent has been handled. Sent away. Permanently.”
A slow exhale leaves me, long and heavy. Henri is gone. The Kovals are broken. Zurich, the shipyard, Deveraux—all of it has finally cost them something back. And maybe—just maybe—it’s enough to buy us time.
I turn toward the river.
The night is dark, ink-black and endless, the rain falling in relentless sheets that soak through my shirt and cool the fever under my skin. The Hudson churns violently below, reflecting the fractured city lights like shards of glass.
For the first time in weeks, the rage simmering in my chest loosens.
Not gone—never gone—but quiet.
Obedient.
I let the storm wash over me, the cold biting through my bones, and breathe. The city roars quietly in the distance, but inside me, everything finally—finally—goes still.
My phone buzzes.
I pull it out, thumb smeared with rain and gunpowder.
Vivian.
Where are you? Will you be home in time for dinner?
My chest tightens, but in a different way this time—warm, grounding, real. A slow smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.
I type back:
Yes. I’ll be home soon.
And for the first time in a long time, the word home feels true.
Chapter 28 – Vivian
I kiss my mother’s forehead and slip quietly out of the room, careful not to wake her from the shallow, medicine-soaked sleep. Barefooted, I pass the dining table where our untouched dinner waits, the plates still warm from earlier.
I step onto the balcony, letting the night air wash over me. The city sprawls below, lights flickering like trapped stars. Dimitri should be home soon. My chest tightens with anticipation, the familiar knot of worry twisting in my stomach.
He’s been gone all morning. I should be used to it by now—his sporadic disappearances, the long hours spent away—but I never am. I press my hands to the railing, the metal cold against my palms, and silently pray he returns safely, over and over, my heart pounding with every faint sound.
I suddenly hear footsteps outside and turn to see Dimitri step onto the balcony. Relief hits me so hard I have to grip the railing, but I don’t run to him. Not when he looks like this. He looks tired, worn, almost…mortal in a way I’ve never seen him before.
“Is it over?” I ask softly.
“For now,” he says, voice heavy. “But I’ve learned something today.”
“What’s that?”
“That peace is a lie.” His eyes lock on mine, raw and exhausted. “But with you…it’s a lie I want to believe.”
I step into his arms, and he holds me tight. For the first time, I feel something close to freedom—not from the Bratva, not from our pasts, but from the ghosts that have haunted me for so long. I can feel him release a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.
Down below, the city hums, oblivious to the blood that bought its peace. Dimitri tilts my chin up and kisses me slowly, reverently, and I melt into it.
