Page 116 of Her Darkest Possession

"I will,mamechka."

"Khorosho. Now, don't make me wait any longer."

The world narrows to just her face and the weight of the gun in my hand. I think of Indigo, of our unborn child. I think of my little brother, who's dead because of this woman's schemes.

I think of the boy I once was, who only ever wanted his mother's love.

Love isn't the death of duty. Indigo's proven that to me. And I will not let my duty to the bratva tear my family apart.

I pull the trigger.

32

INDIGO

ONE WEEK LATER

Sea breeze waftsthrough the open car window as we drive along the coastline toward what used to be our home.

Every now and then, there's an unmistakable hint of warmth on it reminding me that summer is just around the corner.

So much has happened since winter—both the terrible and the beautiful—that I almost can't believe it.

After the mansion burned down, we took up residence in a penthouse Anatoly owned in Manhattan. It's sleek and modern with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city, but it never quite felt like home.

Just a temporary shelter while we regrouped and planned.

The weeks after Vassily's death were hard, especially on Anatoly. They never found his remains in the burnt-out wreckage of the mansion. The fire burned so hot that first responders said it was like the building itself had been cremated from the inside out.

In lieu of an actual body, we buried an empty urn bearing Vassily's name right next to Valentina. I still remember howRoma's shoulders shook during the ceremony, though his face remained impassive.

Anatoly and Roma secluded themselves for three days after the funeral, not wishing to be bothered or seen while they both grieved in their own ways.

At the end of those three days, Anatoly emerged with his eyes clearer than before, like he finally made peace with something inside himself.

The Volkov Bratva has been completely dismantled. With Taras, Grisha, and Lola gone, there was no one left to hold it together. Their brigadiers and soldiers either pledged loyalty to Anatoly or found themselves new masters to follow.

Killian surprised everyone by taking only a small token piece of territory in Brighton Beach instead of all the holdings that once belonged to the Volkovs like he demanded. It was a smart move, and made his intrusion into their territory much more acceptable to the other Russian crime families.

And as weeks became months, it seems that the tentative peace is likely to hold.

But all of this—the war, the territories, the political maneuvering—feels secondary now. My world has narrowed to what truly matters: our growing family and building something lasting with Anatoly.

Right around Christmas, Anatoly and I discovered we were having a baby boy. We were curled up in front of the fireplace in our temporary penthouse when Dr. Espina called with the results.

And just like Anatoly and I discussed on Thanksgiving, we agreed that our son's name will be Oliver. We spent all night saying that name in every way we can while we marveled at the life growing inside of me.

Sometimes, I still can't believe that all of this started with Anatoly sitting in the chair and me holding a razor against his throat.

"Are you comfortable?" Anatoly asks, his eyes briefly leaving the road to check on me.

"I'm fine," I assure him. My back has been aching all morning. At six months pregnant, everything is just a little bit uncomfortable, no matter how attentive and helpful everyone has been around me.

In the backseat, Amara is busy refreshing her phone. Columbia acceptance decisions are supposed to be coming out today, and she hasn't been able to get a good night's sleep for the past three days.

I've been telling her all week that no matter what the results are, I'll always be proud of her.

But that didn't do much to alleviate her stress.