EPILOGUE 2
RIOT
Thirteen Years Later
The driveway at Viktor and Irina’s estate looks like a damn war zone exploded in the best way. Bikes lined up on one side, blacked-out SUVs on the other, kids’ scooters and dirt bikes scattered like landmines across the grass. Nikolai’s thirteen, lanky and mouthy as hell, riding shotgun and arguing with me the whole drive about whether the new bike I’m building for him needs a bigger engine or if I’m just being cheap. Sofia’s nine, middle row, nose buried in a book even though she’s been begging to ride the dirt bike all week. Luka’s five, strapped in the back, kicking the seat and belting some made-up dragon song at full volume. Anya’s in the passenger seat, hair up in a messy bun, hand on my thigh, smiling like she still can’t believe this circus is ours.
I kill the engine. The front door flies open before I can even unbuckle. Irina’s already halfway down the steps, arms wide, yelling “My babies are here!” like she hasn’t seen us in years instead of last month. Viktor’s right behind her, slower, armscrossed, but his eyes go soft the second they land on Anya and the kids.
Nikolai’s out first, slamming the door. “Baba! Did you make pirozhki?”
Irina laughs, pulls him into a hug that swallows him even though he’s almost as tall as her now. “Of course I made pirozhki. And blini. And your grandfather tried to make borscht again.”
Viktor snorts from the porch. “It was edible. Mostly.”
Sofia climbs out next, book still clutched like a shield, but she runs straight to Viktor. “Dedushka, can we go to the range later? I want to try the new rifle.”
Viktor’s face cracks into a rare full smile. “After lunch. And only if you beat your brother’s last score.”
Luka scrambles out last, straight into Irina’s arms. “Baba! I brought my dragon! He breathes fire now!” He holds up the stuffed dragon that’s missing one eye and half its tail.
Irina kisses his cheek. “He’s very fierce. Just like you.”
The yard’s already alive. Lucky and Savannah’s crew is everywhere. Rider’s thirteen, same age as Nikolai, chasing Luka around with a water gun and yelling “Dragon slayer incoming!” Riley’s eight, bossing Rowan (seven) and Luca (four) into building some kind of dirt fort near the garage while she directs traffic like a tiny general. Mason’s twins, the oldest at sixteen, are leaning against their bikes looking too cool for the chaos but grinning every time one of the little ones screams. Tank’s kids are in on the dirt fort project, yelling instructions and throwing handfuls of dirt. Jenny and Carlie are at the picnic tables withIrina, setting out platters while they gossip and laugh about how the kids are “just like their dads.” Blade’s got his arm around his wife, watching the kids with that quiet smile he saves for family shit. The whole Iron Reapers crew is here, mixed in with Viktor’s guys, Dmitri and Mikhail arguing over who grills better, a couple of Viktor’s security guys keeping one eye on the perimeter while the other watches the kids like they’re their own.
It’s loud. It’s messy. It’s ours.
Anya slips her hand into mine as we walk up the steps. “They really are family now,” she says quiet, watching Rider tackle Nikolai in the grass while Sofia rolls her eyes and goes back to her book.
“Yeah,” I say. “Took a while, but they figured it out.”
Inside smells like fresh bread, garlic, and whatever Viktor’s got simmering on the stove. The dining table’s extended with extra leaves, chairs dragged in from every room. Irina’s fussing over plates, Viktor’s pouring vodka for the adults even though it’s barely noon.
We sit. Kids fight over who gets the biggest pirozhki. Riley wins because she elbows Rowan in the ribs when he reaches first. Luka’s smearing sour cream on his face like war paint. Sofia’s reading under the table. Nikolai and Rider are already planning how to sneak off to the range early. Mason’s twins sit at the end, smirking like they remember being that young and dumb.
Viktor raises his glass. “To family.”
Everyone lifts theirs, even Luka with his juice. “To family.”
After lunch the kids bolt outside. Nikolai and Rider drag Sofia to the range in the back field. Riley bosses Rowan and Luca into expanding the dirt fort. Tank’s kids join in, yelling instructions. The adults spread out on the porch, beers in hand, watching the chaos.
Irina sits next to Anya, bumps her shoulder. “They’re good kids.”
“They’re wild,” Anya says, smiling.
“Like their parents.” Irina laughs soft.
Viktor leans against the railing, eyes on Luka now trying to climb a tree. “They’ll be strong. All of them.”
Anya looks up at him. “They already are.”
He nods. Then he looks at Irina, softer than he lets most people see. “You did good with him.”
Irina shrugs. “We both did.”
I watch them. Viktor fell hard the first time he saw her in that hospital room ten years ago. Showed up at her door with flowers and a promise to never let her be alone again. She fought him for months, told him she didn’t need a man, told him she’d raised a son on her own and didn’t need protecting. He kept coming back anyway, patient, stubborn, until she finally let him in. They married six months after they met. I was happy about it. Relieved. My mom spent too many years alone after my dad died. Viktor treats her like she’s the center of his universe, and she lets him. They balance each other.
Anya catches me staring. She leans into my side, voice low. “You’re smiling.”
