Yuri is lying on the ground near the ivy bush.
His eyes are a cold vacant stare, a horrifying image of the dead. Bullet wounds riddle his body, and his face is as white as a sheet. Dead.
On my way up the stairs with Gabe, I saw Dmitri dead too, eyes open just like Yuri.
The same vacant stare, the same pale white of death.
They deserved it, and I’m glad they got it. Part of the wall that enclosed my soul inside me crumbled.
I’m weak from the fire, so weak I just want to lie down. But I can’t miss this. This event of vengeance. This event that should have been my death turned into vengeance.
Most of the men are dead. It’s just a few here and there who are left.
Ilya is on his knees before Vincent.
I’m standing between two of his brothers—Gabe and Salvatore. Both protected me fiercely.
I’m standing in the gathering of the men who came to make this rescue possible, and I’m watching the moment I’ve only ever dreamed about.
My uncle brought down to justice and given a taste of his own medicine.
It’s just a taste, however, because none of this is enough to make up for what he did.
It’s something though. A massive, momentous something that I’m processing. I can’t believe it’s real.
Ilya has been brought to his knees like the dog he is.
Vincent hands Timothy to his father, who takes him away. I watch him go through the door and soothe his grandson, who’s started to cry for Vincent. It’s heartbreaking. All of it is. He should never have been dragged into this mess. I will always feel guilty for that.
My gaze returns to Vincent. He’s still holding the gun he used to shoot the tank. God… the baby nearly drowned. It was all set up to make certain he would. I was to burn to death and Timothy to drown.
I can’t conceive the evil in this mess. I can’t begin to accept that evil way of thinking. Heartless and soulless. That is what my uncle is. He and his men, from one to the next. There’s no difference. They’re all the fucking same.
As I look at him now, I know in my soul that he deserves death too.
Vincent gives Ilya a kick in his face that sends him to the ground, flat on his back, blood spurting from his nose.
“Motherfucking dog! You fucking piece of shit,” Vincent snarls and points the gun at him. He pulls the trigger back. Click-clack, that’s all I hear ring through my ears.
He’s ready to shoot him, and I watch. I watch in anticipation of the end.
Then Vincent stops mid-motion, like he just remembered something.
He turns to me.
“Come here,” he says.
I take my steps as strongly and confidently as I can. My eyes never leaving Ilya, who has now clocked on to me.
Confidence ripples through me in abundance, filling every pore of my being as I finally face my biggest fears, my biggest secrets, my greatest nightmare.
I stare at Ilya on the ground and want nothing more than to kill him.
“What should I do with him?” Vincent asks, breaking my stare.
I turn to him appreciating the control he’s passed to me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I want his death because that is exactly what I want. I want death for him. I want my uncle to suffer death the way he made my parents suffer, all of them.
But… just shooting him here feels like he got off easy.
I look back at my uncle and think long and hard about what I want. If we kill him here, no one will truly know all that he did, and he won’t get the full blow he deserves.
The answer comes to me in a spark of thought that feels right.
“Russia should deal with him,” I say. As the words fall from my lips, Ilya’s eyes go wide with terror. He knows what I mean by that. He damn well knows. He knows I mean the truth. When the brotherhood learns the truth of what he did, how he killed my father, that will be his death and utter humiliation. That will kill him. They will kill him.
“I will take him there myself. Hand deliver him to my people. My face will be enough to sentence him,” I add. I sound stronger. I don’t sound like me.
This is what I became after the storm.
I look back at Vincent. He nods his agreement.
***
I’m so tired.
Four days have passed since the showdown at the prison, and much has happened in the space of that time.
I went to Russia, returning to my homeland, and I did exactly what I said I would do. Hand delivered my uncle to my people. Vincent made the arrangements. He contacted the president, and then everything fell into place the way it was supposed to. Easy because of who my real father was.
Ilya was shamed and executed sometime yesterday.
I don’t know the time, only that it happened. I only went to do my part.
Which was to show my face as who I was. So, I showed my real face. The real me. I died my hair back blonde and looked the way I should look. Like my mother.
Amazing what hair color can do. I looked just like her and like the older version of myself. The former ballerina who was on her way to fame.
I was evidence and testament enough of the truth.
I landed at O’Hare International two hours ago, and as I did, I felt I could put the past behind me for the first time and close the door on that chapter.
I’m on my way back to Vincent’s house now, although I know I don’t have to be. Tomorrow is supposed to be my last day with him.
This morning, when I checked my account, there was two million dollars in there.
The same two million dollars Dad stole from him.
Its’ a fortune to take care of me for the rest of my life, which is just the thing that got to me.
It’s a goodbye present, a very expensive goodbye present, one that has significant meaning though.
I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t be screaming with joy and happiness to wake to such a gift. I can’t do that though, because Vincent meant more to me than that.
The car pulls up on the drive, and I get out.
I walk into the house, and Vincent steps out of the living room, caution in his eyes.
He still has bruises on his face from what happened to him.
He looks me over. It’s the first time he’s seeing me with my hair this color. It must be odd. It was odd to me too to see myself like that. I liked it, so I decided to keep it as it is.
“Hello,” he says first and walks up to me.
“Hi.” Tears pull at the backs of my eyes, but I smile when he takes a lock of my hair and allows the ends to curl about his thumb.
“You look beautiful. You look like you should.” The corners of his lips tip up into a small smile.
“Thank you. How’s Timothy?”
“He’s okay. He’s back to being my little tyke.” He grins.
That makes me smile. “I’m glad he’s okay.”
“He is. Come,” he says and puts out his hand for me to take.
I take it and follow him into the living room. He sits me down on the sofa then settles in next to me and faces me.
“Did it all go okay?” he asks.
“It did. I didn’t stay for the execution. I didn’t need to.”
“I understand. I hoped you wouldn’t. You shouldn’t see a thing like that, no matter how evil the person is,” he states with a nod, and I agree.
“Thank you for giving me the power to do that.”
“Did it help you?”
“Yes.” It helped in a way I can’t fully express to anyone. I became the holder of Ilya’s fate, the way he was over me. “I feel like I can move past it now. The whole situation and everything helped me to move past my fears.”
He touches my hair again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry any of it happened to you. I feel like I didn’t do enough to make them pay.”
“Vincent, there’s no more you could have done for me to make them pay. The people who hurt me most are dead.” There are more guys, more of them who worked for my uncle who hurt me, but I couldn’t face them. “There’s a new leader being called for the brotherhood. He’ll be dealing with the others in Russia who worked for my uncle. I know they’ll mete out justice, but I’m done there. I don’t know when I’ll go back, if ever. This trip felt like a mission of sorts.”
“Time will heal you properly now, baby. It will heal you in a different way,” he assures me. “When it does, you’ll know how you feel about Russia. Until then, focus on you.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you. Thank you for everything. Absolutely everything. Thank you for saving me.” I wipe away a tear.
“You are more than welcome.”
“I’m not taking the money though.” I shake my head.
He raises his brows. “Why the hell not?” he asks in a lighter tone.
“You gave me two million dollars, Vincent. That’s an awful lot of money,” I breathe.
“Don’t you try to give it back. It’s a gift I want you to have.”
“I can’t take it.”
He chuckles. “Ava, I don’t know anyone who would turn away money like that. It’s in your account, and it’s staying there. You will have it. I am sorry about your father, Mark. This all started with him and that two million. You have it. See if you can achieve a dream or two with it. Maybe it may take you back to your first love. Dancing.”
Seriousness washes over his face, and the humor fades.
“Can’t I just… have you?” That’s what I want. It’s something I know I won’t get, though, from the somber look in his eyes. “Can’t I just be with you?”
He shakes his head, and his eyes become glassy. “No.”
“Why?”
His gaze clings to mine. “You can’t be with me, Ava. You don’t belong in my world, and I can’t run away from who I am. It will follow me wherever I go. I’ll still be the beast. I’ll still be the monster in the darkness. When you kiss me, I won’t turn into a prince.”
Tears runs down my cheeks. “I know what your life involves. I know all too well what can happen, but I still want to be with you.”
“I know better than to drag you into a life full of danger when I can put a stop to it now. I can’t sit here and pretend that I will always be there to protect you. I can’t. I can’t put you in a position where I could lose you and there’d be nothing I’d be able to do about it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It is.”
“Vincent—
“No, Ava… no.”
“Vincent—”
“I love you…” His words cut off mine.
Love me… His words imprint to my soul and are the last things to break down that wall. Love. Love from a man I love too. Love from a man who knows my past, knows what happened to me, and still loves me.
“Ava… I love you enough to let you go, and let you live,” he adds, and my being shivers. I don’t want him to let me go.
“I love you too, Vincent.” I’ve never said those words to anyone except my parents. I’ve always dreamed of saying them to the right person, and I am. I’m telling the person who should hear them, but he’s telling me he can’t be with me.
“Then allow me to do this for you. Allow me to take care of you and do the right thing. You’re free now. Free to go and… free of me.” He blows out a ragged breath, leans forward, and plants a chaste kiss on my forehead.
When he lets go of my hand, my heart breaks in two.
One last look, and he walks away. I watch him walk out the door and turn the corner. I don’t see him anymore.
The tears fall now like pieces of my soul weeping.