Kingmakers, Graduation

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

SAbrINA

2 Months Later

I n the month after the shootout, it felt like everyone in Moscow wanted to kill us. The High Table was in a fury, the kachki wanted revenge for Cujo, and even Krystiyan Kovalenko had a cousin or two who liked him enough to care that Adrik cut his throat.

Even with the Wolfpack standing by us and Adrik’s family backing us up, we would have been in serious shit. It was the Winter Diamond that saved us.

My father was right—the High Table’s obsession with Russia’s most beautiful gem borders on the superstitious. Serafim Isidor seemed to believe that the Bratva had suffered nothing but back luck since they lost it. He was willing to agree to almost anything to get it back.

My dad came to Moscow to broker the deal, and to make amends to the Bratva in person. He can be very charming when he wants to be. Af ter three hours of negotiations, Isidor was placated enough to apologize in turn for Alexei Yenin’s betrayal of the blood oath.

My dad stayed afterward to take Adrik and me out for dinner. I think Adrik was nervous—he hadn’t seen my father since their car ride together, and the last time my dad saw me, I wasn’t exactly at my best.

I arrived at the restaurant shining like a star, in brand new dress, hair glossy, face immaculate, not a bruise to be seen. I hung on Adrik’s arm, overflowing with happiness to have two of my favorite people at a table together.

My father looked more than relieved when he saw me. We talked all through dinner. I could tell he was impressed with Adrik’s descriptions of our supply chain and distribution models. When he found out Adrik plays chess, that was almost enough to make him smile. In time, he might accept that I really do love Moscow—maybe even more than Chicago.

The diamond wasn’t the only price to wipe our slate clean—Adrik and I have to pay the Koslov family an outrageous percentage of our earnings for the next two years. Since Molniya and the rest of the line-up continue to earn money faster than we could ever spend it, it’s not the worst deal in the world.

It helped that Nikolai Markov supported us. Isidor cares what he thinks much more than Foma Kushnir, who flatly refused to vote in our favor. Ilsa probably put in a good word with her dad, or Nikolai simply realized how profitable it would be to renew his contract for our pills.

Ilsa comes to see me weekly to pick up fresh product. She hasn’t quite resigned herself to Simon, but her and Neve are as close as ever .

The kachki still hate us, not that they have the pull to do much about it. As long as we stay away from their favorite gym, we should be fine.

Krystiyan’s relatives likewise hold a grudge. The Petrovs and the Malina already loathed each other, so that’s basically status quo.

You’re always going to have enemies in our world. All you can do is make it lucrative for people to keep you alive, and dangerous for them to kill you.

Hakim and I abandoned Yuri Koslov’s lab and returned to the old brewery. It took a shit ton of effort to make it operational again, but with all the hours we work, it’s the only way he can see Alla as often as he likes. He brings her lunch from her favorite places so she doesn’t have to cook any more than necessary.

He didn’t give me too much shit about burning the lab. All of the Wolfpack were more forgiving than I feared, even Vlad—they only had one stipulation.

“It’s time for you to get your patch,” Jasper says.

I groan, even though I knew this was coming.

I’ve always liked tattoos, but never felt sure I could commit to one on myself. Even though the idea of stamping my arm with the Petrov wolf is not as anathema as it once was, I can’t say I’m thrilled about the idea.

“You better take me someplace good,” I say. “I don’t want hepatitis from some rusty Russian needle.”

“Don’t worry,” Andrei assures me. “Bitterroot has the highest standards. They lick the needle clean between every client. ”

Despite Andrei’s best efforts to wind me up, the tattoo parlor is perfectly welcoming. It’s located in a neat brick building on Main Street, a large skylight flooding the room with sunshine, and cheerful orange tiles on the floor.

I relax a little more when I meet the artist Jaromira, who has shiny black hair down to her waist and sleeves of beautiful black roses on both arms. She shows me examples of her work, all fine lines and delicate shading.

“All right,” I sigh, situating myself on her chair. “I’m ready.”

The Wolfpack has come along to watch me take my licks. They rib me and offer sips of vodka from Vlad’s flask.

“Try not to cry,” Hakim says.

“I never cry,” I say, scornfully.

“Never,” Adrik agrees, giving me a sideways smile.

My cheeks get hot, but I smile back at him, not really minding that he saw me in my lowest and most desperate moment. It was his, too. We were both drowning, and we both pulled each other out.

I can’t watch when Jaromira sets her buzzing needle against my arm. I thought it would feel like punctures, being stabbed again and again, but really it’s more like someone drawing on you with a sharp pen.

After a while, the endorphins kick in. It’s almost pleasant. The sunshine is warm, the buzzing soothing.

I lay my head against the rest on the chair, listening to Jaromira’s excellent selection of Russian chansons .

Much like the Mexican ballads that detail the exploits of drug cartels, chansons are songs about the underworld.

The more vodka Vlad drinks, the more he wants to sing along. His voice is low and gruff, but not unpleasant.

“Go ahead,” Jaromira encourages him. “It keeps me entertained.”

Chief peppers Jaromira with questions about the internal mechanisms of the tattoo gun.

“I didn’t build it,” she laughs. “I just use it.”

“How you holding up?” Adrik asks me. He’s sitting directly across from me, backwards on his chair with his arms folded over the seat rest. His hair is dark and shaggy around his face, his blue eyes bright under the skylight. Now that summer is coming, his tan is deepening again.

“I can barely feel it,” I say, though in truth it’s starting to sting now that Jaromira has finished the line work and moved on to the shading. Each pass of the needle bites a little deeper.

I haven’t looked at her work. I already know what the tattoo will look like. It’s staring at me from six muscular arms all around me—a black wolf, its mouth half-open in a snarl. I could probably draw it in my sleep from all the times I’ve traced Adrik’s tattoo with my finger.

When Jaromira finally finishes, the Wolfpack crowds around to see.

“It’s official,” Jasper grins.

I try to feel excitement as Jaromira positions me in front of the mirror, wiping the soap off my arm with a soft cloth .

As the rag swipes down, it reveals not a black wolf, but an orange tiger. The tiger prowls up my arm, long and sleek and graceful. Like the wolf, its teeth are bared in a furious snarl.

The Wolfpack laughs at the look on my face, Adrik more than anyone.

“Do you like it?” he says.

“I … I love it.”

I really do.

Adrik tilts my chin up and kisses me.

“You’re one of us,” he says. “But you’re still you. You don’t have to give up your identity—just be with me.”

“Always.” I kiss him back.

“Enough of that,” Andrei says. “Let’s go celebrate.”

Adrik

2 Years Later

One of the first things I did after I got Sabrina back was call Ivan on the phone and ask him how I could make sure I didn’t fuck it all up again.

I asked him who was ultimately in charge of his business—him, or Sloane?

Ivan didn’t hesitate .

“Both of us.”

“But who makes the decisions?”

“Sometimes me, sometimes her. She probably makes sixty percent, even seventy. She’s smarter than me, you know.”

I laughed. “I’m afraid that might be true of Sabrina. It’s not so easy though. I don’t know how to put someone else’s judgment over my own. I never have.”

Ivan grunted on the other end of the line—a sympathetic sound.

“The best thing is to make your decisions together.”

“But what if she’s wrong?”

“There is no right and wrong. There’s being on one side together or being separated. I choose to be with Sloane, and her with me. Always.”

That sent a shiver down my spine. It’s what I wanted too, desperately.

“When will I get a wedding invitation?” Ivan asked me.

I groaned. “Fuck if I know. That’s one of our points of conflict.”

“Well …” Ivan said. “It’s best to agree … but sometimes a little trickery is allowed.”

I was more than familiar with the bet Ivan made with Sloane to hoodwink her into marrying him.

I preferred not to stoop to chicanery to secure Sabrina, but I wasn’t ruling it out if her resistance continued.

It took two long years to convince her to marry me. It’s not that she didn’t want to—or at least, I don’t think that was it .

If I had to guess, the real reason is that the things that matter deeply to her are the only things that scare her. She’s afraid to fail when it matters most.

Plus, she has an instinctive distrust of anything conventional.

I promised her the ceremony could be anything she liked.

“You don’t have to wear a puffy white dress or stand in a church. Just promise to be with me … and make it legal, so it’s harder for you to get away.”

She laughed. Then, with more seriousness she said, “Will it make you happy?”

“More than anything.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

Sabrina

The morning of my wedding day, I wake up terrified.

It’s not that I don’t want to be with Adrik—I’m more head-over-heels obsessed with him than I’ve ever been. And we’ve been living and working together for over two years now, so it’s not like there’s any big surprises of what he’s really like.

I guess it’s the thought of me as a wife that scares me. I never saw myself that way, I don’t know exactly what it means or how I’m supposed to be.

Adrik and I weren’t planning to see each other until we meet at the venue .

I text him at 6:20 in the morning, saying:

Are you awake?

He responds a moment later:

I am now …

Sorry.

Don’t be sorry. What do you need, baby girl?

I need to see you.

He picks me up from my parents’ house thirty minutes later, driving a rental car. Just the sight of him calms me down immensely. We drive out to the Morton Arboretum so we can take a walk on the forest trails.

I’m still wearing the shorts and t-shirt I slept in, hair up in a messy ponytail. Adrik has on a crisp white t that shows how tanned he’s gotten now that it’s fully summertime. His hair is the longest it’s been in a while, black and shaggy. When he runs his hands through it, it makes dramatic shapes: a wave swooping down over one eye, or two curtains on either side of his face.

He crosses the loamy paths with long, rangy strides. I have to walk quickly to keep up with him, which is the pace I prefer. The pine trees surround us like hundreds of pillars holding up the pale blue vault of the sky. The air smells damp and fresh, still cool before the heat of the day.

We’re alone save for the birds in the trees.

The stillness of this place makes me peaceful .

Adrik is right at home—he’s always seemed more animal than man. It’s the way he moves—graceful, natural, seemingly without effort. The way those narrow blue eyes flick to a wren on a branch, or garter snake disappearing under the brush. And most of all, the way he seizes me and presses his face against the side of my neck, inhaling deeply my scent.

He's never ashamed of what his body wants.

My body wants him, all the time—his breath, his touch, his proximity. The week he’s spent at the hotel with his family while I’m at home with mine has been fucking with me. It was nice to sleep in my old bed one last time, but I miss his weight and his warmth curled around me in the night. I miss waking up with his mouth between my thighs. This is why I’m on edge—I haven’t had those constant daily contacts that mellow me out.

He holds my hand now, his fingers interlocked with mine.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks me.

“No …”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s just … I don’t ever want you to feel trapped. I want us to be together because we want to be together, not because we signed something. And … I don’t want to disappoint you.” I hesitate, pausing on the path, not quite looking at him. “If I’m not the wife you thought I would be.”

He laughs, softly.

“Sabrina … I want to be married to you because that’s what fits how I feel about you. Calling you my girlfriend is fucking ludicrous. You’re the other half of me. I couldn’t leave you any more than I could cut myself in two.”

“And what about the other part?”

“You think I want some traditional wife? When have you ever been conventional? I want you exactly the way you are, and however you’ll be in the future. I don’t have expectations for you—it’s the surprises I love. You always surpass what I could imagine.”

I let out the breath I was holding.

“Okay. I don’t know why I’m so stressed—maybe ‘cause I haven’t seen you enough this week. I’m never unhappy when we’re together. When we’re separated I fall apart.”

“I know,” he says, cupping my face in his hand. “I feel the same.”

He bends his head to kiss me.

The towering pines are the pillars of a cathedral. The light falls down in green shafts as if it passed through colored glass. This is our chapel. This is our real wedding, right here, right now. Just the two of us.

Adrik lays me down on the damp moss that smells of everything living and growing all around us.

He undresses me slowly, kissing each part of my body as he lays it bare. My lips, the hollow of my throat, my breasts, my belly. He turns over my hand and presses his mouth against my palm.

He slips off my shorts and underwear, until I’m entirely nude. The bits of sun that make it through the canopy of leaves float like flecks of gold on my skin. He runs his tongue across the sun-warmed patches on my thighs .

Gently, he slips one finger inside me, then raises it to his mouth to taste me.

He lets out a sigh. “My favorite thing in the world.”

I kiss him to taste myself on his lips. It’s warm and musky-sweet, like the bark on the ground.

He lays on his stomach, cupping my ass in his hands, lifting my pussy up to his mouth. He runs his tongue slowly up between my pussy lips, soft and wet and warm. Pausing at the top to suck gently, ever so gently, on my clit.

He listens to my moans, he watches my face. He worships my pussy with his mouth, treating it like the most delicate, the most sensitive, the most precious thing in the world.

He’s relaxing me, soothing me. Knowing this is what I need, this connection, this relief.

The pleasure rolls over me in waves, as warm as the sunshine, as sweet as the ferns and moss and grass all around us.

I look up at the sky through the lacework of branches, cumming slowly with a sound like a sigh.

Adrik sets my hips down, then places his hands on either side of me, looking down into my face as he slides his cock inside me. I’m wet and swollen and extremely sensitive. I squirm under him, barely able to stand it.

He pillows my head on his arm, cradling me, thrusting into me slow and deep.

“Tell me you love me,” he says.

“I love you so much it hurts. ”

“Tell me you’ll always love me.”

“I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.”

“I’ll make you happy,” he says. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m never afraid when I’m with you.”

His arm tightens, pulling my head against his shoulder. His body is tight and immensely strong on top of me. Every muscle contracts as he thrusts deeper and harder, driving his cock all the way inside.

“You’re everything to me,” he groans. “My whole entire world …”

“ Ya tebya lyublyu, Adrichek…” I whisper. I love you, Adrik…

He cums as deep as he can, then relaxes, pressing me into the ground. His body is heavy, warm, and spent.

We lay there, breathing in the same cadence, our hearts beating at the same time.

The wedding will take place on the lakeshore right at sunset.

We kept the guest list as small as possible—just the people who love us most.

I dress in the small bridal suite close to where we’ll eat after the ceremony, the tables bearing garlands of fresh ranunculus and olive leaves, covered over by canopies of gauzy white muslin that float in the breeze off the lake.

My mom finds a minute wrinkle on the skirt of my dress and takes it into the back room to steam .

Sloane pokes her head in while I’m sitting at the vanity in my crinoline and bra.

“Come in, come in!” I call to her.

“I don’t want to interrupt you?—”

“You’re not!”

She joins me at the vanity, sinking down on a ruffled pink pouf that could not be more incongruous to Sloane’s style.

Her dress is sleek and simple, her dark hair parted on the side and pinned with a bronze clip. The green of her dress pulls out the same color in her hazel eyes.

She takes my hand and squeezes it, smiling at me. Her fingers are strong like my mom’s—both capable women who work with their hands.

“I brought you something,” she says. “Not for today, just for you to have.”

She holds out a little box to me, the velvet patchy and worn.

I open it up.

Nestled inside is a pair of garnet earrings, as rich and dark as pomegranate.

I lift one of the earrings. It dangles from my fingers like a teardrop, heavy and glimmering.

“They’re so beautiful …” I breathe.

“They belonged to Dom and Ivan’s great-grandmother. Ivan gave them to me a long time ago. I thought you should have them now. ”

Sloane and I have grown closer over the last two years. She’s visited us several times in Moscow. When Adrik and I go to Cannon Beach, we play Halo on teams—me and Sloane against Adrik and Zima.

Still, this is far beyond anything I would have expected.

I don’t quite have the nerve to hug her. All I can say is, “Thank you. I’ll treasure them.”

Sloane looks at me in the way she has, as if she can see right inside me.

“You impress me,” she says.

I let out a nervous laugh. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

Sloane smiles too. “You figured your shit out faster than I did. I was in my thirties when I met Ivan. You’re so young, you have your whole life ahead of you. Just remember, you need Adrik—and he needs you. Whenever I feel the impulse to be alone, I remind myself to draw back to Ivan. I’m always happier when we’re in sync. Stay connected—you’re both stronger together.”

“I’ll try,” I say. “I’ll really try.”

She presses my hand before letting go.

“Thank you, Sloane,” I say, again.

Her smile has a little more mischief in it now. “When you get back from your honeymoon, we should play Halo head-to-head. I just hit Diamond rank.”

“Oh my god,” I laugh. “I’m scared … but excited.”

“That’s my favorite feeling.”

“Me too. ”

She leaves me to finish getting ready. I did my own hair and makeup—I wanted to look like myself. My hair is loose in big curls down my back. I take off the earrings I was going to wear and put on the ones Sloane gave me instead. They’re perfect for my dress, but I would have worn them either way.

My mom returns a few minutes later, the gown laid carefully over her arm.

“I fixed it,” she says.

She’s smiling with all the same joy I feel when I get something to work.

She’s not wearing makeup at all, her hair center-parted and pulled back in a low bun at the base of her neck. Her dress is cotton, a pale lilac color. She looks like someone Frida Kahlo would have painted, or dated. Her smile fills me with warmth.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She sits down where Sloane was just a minute before, her knees pressing against mine.

“Congratulations, baby. There’s never been a more beautiful bride.”

I twist the skirt of my crinoline in my hands.

“Thanks, Mom. I know this isn’t really what you wanted for me …”

My mom has never loved the criminal life. She fell in love with my father and she accepts him for all that he is, but this isn’t the future she would have picked for me.

She looks in my eyes, tucking an errant curl behind my ear.

“Oh baby, you’re so wrong … this is everything I ever dreamed for you. ”

Her dark eyes are fixed on mine, clear and honest, yet I can’t quite believe her.

“How can that be?”

“My greatest fear for you was that you were never going to find love. I see you looking at Adrik like I look at your dad, and that tells me how happy you’ll be.”

“Really?”

My mom nods. “I knew your dad a long time before he even noticed I existed. I remember what he was like before we met, and that’s what I never wanted for you. You are so like your dad … I worried that you would never find your equal. I’m so glad that you did, and so glad that I’m here to see it.”

Relief washes over me. When I went to Moscow, I don’t think anybody besides Adrik and me thought it was a good idea. It feels so much better to have the support of the people I respect the most.

“I’m sorry we never finished the bike.”

We’d been working on that old Indian motorcycle for ages. Like the ship of Theseus, I don’t think there was an original part left on it.

“Actually …” my mom smiles. “I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” I’m not ready to believe what I think she’s about to say.

“When you first left, I was worried about you. I had a lot of sleepless nights. I spent them in the garage working.”

I wince, full of guilt for everything I’ve put her through. Starting at about three years old and continuing through the present.

“Sorry, Mom. ”

She touches my cheek, her hand soft and cool.

“You’ve always had to go your own way.”

Unable to stay depressed for long, I grin and say, “You really finished it?”

“It runs perfectly. You should take it back with you.”

For only the second time I can remember, I’m crying. I don’t deserve to be loved like this. But I am. I’m truly, truly loved.

It doesn’t oppress me, it doesn’t make me feel like I owe something I can’t possibly repay. I just feel so fucking grateful.

My mom helps me zip up my dress.

I fix my makeup one last time and we stand by the door, her arm around my waist, my head resting on hers.

“You ready?” she says.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

Adrik

I wait on the sand for Sabrina.

The sun is just beginning to sink down to the lake, the sky rich with every shade of scarlet and orange above the dark blue w ater.

Jasper, Kade, and Sabrina’s brother Damien are standing up with me. Damien strongly resembles Sabrina, something that endeared him to me at once. He’s smart like her, and I suspect he shares her wicked streak, though he hides it better.

Nix, Cara, and Ilsa are the bridesmaids, barefoot and dressed in gauzy light gowns. They look like naiads, like they might have just come up from the water and taken human form on the sand.

The waves roll in gently, the breeze soft against my skin.

Everything is perfect. Or it will be when my bride appears.

I watch for her, anxious, shifting in place.

I see her the moment she steps out of the bridal suite. She crosses the grass, her mother helping to carry the train of her gown.

The closer she gets, the harder it is to look at her. The evening light bathes her skin, illuminating every inch of her until she shines like burnished bronze. Her gown is deep crimson, vibrant and alive.

She’s so stunning that I can’t believe she belongs to me. I can’t even believe she’s real.

She walks toward me. For the first time in my life I’m nervous, hands shaking, legs weak.

Then she smiles at me, and everything is right again.

I hold out my hand to her.

She slips her fingers into mine, standing close beside me, holding on tight.

My father performs the ceremony. It’s brief and honest—no religion, no tradition, no rote words .

Sabrina and I say our vows to each other:

“I’ll always protect you,” I promise, “I’ll always trust you. I’ll always support you. I’ll believe in you, and anything you want, I’ll make it happen. You have my heart forever. You have all of me, all that I am.”

“I’ll love you forever,” Sabrina says, “You and no one else. I’ll stand by you, no matter what happens. I’ll be your partner and your best friend.”

The sun is at the waterline, sending out one last brilliant slice of light that dazzles on the waves.

I take Sabrina’s face in my hands and I kiss her, her skin warm and golden and bright.

She tastes of salt and smoke and sweetness. She is everything I want and everything I love.

When we break apart, she still clings to me, looking up in my eyes.

“You were right,” she whispers. “This is better. This is the best.”

Thank you for coming to Kingmakers with me!