Page 225 of Celestial Combat

“What are you doing up?” he called back, almost casual, like he wasn’t about to vanish into the Pacific.

“What are you doing?!” I shouted, water dragging at my ankles as I waded in after him. “Don’t do this, man! Don’t fucking do this!”

He turned his back. Kept going. Silent. Steady. I could see his shoulders rise with breath, the moonlight catching the curve of his neck.

I was running out of options. Out of time. My throat burned with salt and panic. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted iron.

“Dad!”

The word cracked out of me before I could stop it.

Aleksandr froze.

He didn’t turn, not right away – but his head tilted, just slightly, just enough. As if the word had pierced something deep beneath his ribs.

“She was going to leave with you,” I said, chest heaving with exhaustion and grief. “For Russia. That’s why he…” The words died on my tongue.

Silence. The waves filled the space between us.

His shoulders tensed. “But that would mean she had you…”

“In the beginning of your relationship. Yeah. It’s why she didn’t talk to you for a couple years.”

He finally turned. His face carved from stone, and still – I could see it now. As clear as day.

The same square jaw.

The same height and build.

The same black eyes.

I moved closer, the water to my knees now, dragging me like it wanted both of us. “We just met,” I said quietly. “We have decades to catch up on.”

For a second, I didn’t know what he’d do.

And then he came toward me in a couple powerful strides and pulled me into the hardest hug I’d ever felt.

I stood frozen at first. But then something cracked open in my chest, and I clutched him back, pressing my forehead to his shoulder.

We stood there like that – knee-deep in the tide.

Father and son under a mourning moon.

Chapter 59

Present

Koh Samui, Thailand

THEMORNING SUN PAINTED THE terrace in gold, the kind of light that made everything look easy. The ocean sparkled just beyond the railing, its rhythm steady and calm, like it had nothing to prove. A breeze slid through the linen shade above us, brushing Kali’s hair across her cheek as she leaned back in her chair, holding a piece of pineapple between her fingers.

Aleksandr sat across from us, shirt printed with hibiscus flowers, dark sunglasses shielding his eyes despite the shade. His plate was already half-cleared – toast, eggs, something spicy from the local menu – and he was in the middle of telling a story about losing half a finger in a poker game, then winning it back.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, letting the sunlight soak into my skin. The air smelled like coffee and sea salt, the sound of clinking plates and waves blending like background music to a scene I never thought I’d live through. Kali had already been caught up on everything from last night – every hard word, every reveal – and she was calm now, content, her fingers brushing against mine under the table every so often.

“So, listen, kid,” Aleksandr said, spearing the last of his food with a contemplative hum, “I been thinking. I haven’t been to New York in a long time.”

Kali’s face lit up instantly. She turned to me with a big smile, eyes gleaming like she’d been hoping he’d say it all along.