Chapter 286: Making This House A Home.

Kaiden

By the time Hunter and I finished up at my parents’ place, it was well after lunch. If I'm honest, I'm already missing the constant food and snacking times my girl requires, that I also get to benefit from. We’d started that morning with a nameless man strapped to a chair; now we had a name, a story, a new recruit we felt sorry for and a headache.

Matthew Valensky.

Thirty-four. Two kids under ten.

A small-time drug mover who got in too deep trying to make ends meet. When the wrong people came calling, he ended up working for a cheap network laundering money through “legitimate” fronts. One of those was that filthy bakery Alina walked into. He wasn’t a hardened criminal, more desperate than dangerous and it showed. His hands shook through half the interrogation. Mason, ever the soft spot among us, was the first to notice the worn photo of his kids he kept tucked in his shoe. The man wasn’t lying. He’d been in over his head, terrified, and unlucky enough to cross paths with my girl while she was hungry.

Mason leaned against the table, beer in hand, wiping sweat and blood off his knuckles with a rag. “So, that’s that. Bakery’s a front. Bunch of wannabe players, no mob ties. Just local trash thinking they can make fast money.”

Nico snorted, lighting a cigarette. “Every city’s got ‘em. The problem is, they get cocky, think they can dip into our neighbourhoods without permission. You know how that ends.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I do. But they won’t be a problem anymore.”

Hunter handed me a beer as we stepped out into the yard, the faint hum of the city somewhere beyond the gates. The others followed, Mason, Nico, a couple of the men who’d helped with cleanup. For a while, none of us said much. Just the soft hiss of beer bottles opening, the low crackle of someone lighting another cigarette.

Finally, Nico broke the silence. “Listen, about the other night…” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between us. “Isla feels like shit. We all do. That dinner went sideways fast, and I know Alina didn’t deserve that.”

Mason nodded. “Yeah. I’m working on her, man. She’s got walls up, but she’s not heartless. She just needs time. She’s grieving Mia, and she’s not sure what to do about seeing you two happy again.”

Hunter leaned back against the fence, sighing. “I get it. Doesn’t make it right, but I get it.”

Nico took another drag, then flicked the ash away. “We were thinking… maybe dinner again. Tonight. Nothing formal. Just us. Let the girls spend some time together. Maybe if Isla actually sees Alina, talks to her, she’ll realise this isn’t some betrayal.”

I exchanged a look with Hunter. The last dinner ended in broken silence and rage, but maybe… maybe a second chance would settle things. And Alina deserved that peace.

“Yeah,” I said finally, taking a drink. “We’ll host. Our place is big enough. I’ll talk to Alina when we get home and make sure she’s okay with it.”

Mason grinned. “Good. I’ll make sure Isla behaves. And I’ll leave Rosa with her Nonna and Nonnos so we don't have to watch our langugae.”

“Yeah,” Nico added with a smirk. “And I’ll keep Isla from throwing punches.”

“Appreciate it,” I said, meaning it.

As they filtered out, one by one, Hunter came up beside me. “Think this’ll work?”

I shrugged. “If it doesn’t, at least we’ll know we tried. But I think Alina and Isla just need to see that this isn’t about replacing anyone. It’s about keeping family together.”

He nodded slowly. “You really think she’ll say yes?”

I smiled, already picturing the look on Alina’s face when I told her. “I think she’ll want to try. For Bean. For us.” And, if I was being honest, for Mia too.

“Honey, I’m home!” I called out as Hunter and I stepped through the front door, mostly joking, but the second the words left my mouth, I realised how good they sounded. For the first time in what felt like years, they didn’t echo through a lonely house.

From upstairs, her voice carried down, warm and casual, “Up here! Bean’s room!”

Hunter and I exchanged a look, the kind that said we’ve missed her like hell, and then took the stairs two at a time. The second I crossed the threshold, my chest tightened. The room, our Bean’s room, was perfect. Soft light filtered through dark gauzy curtains, catching on the little things that made it feel alive. There was colour now, warmth. A fluffy black rug sprawled across the floor like a cloud of ink, anchoring everything. Tiny clothes hung neatly folded in the open dresser, and a plush mobile hung on the side of the cot, its soft shapes swaying with the breeze from the open window. And Alina, our girl, was standing in the middle of it, one hand on her hip, the other brushing dust from a shelf she’d just finished organising. She looked proud, exhausted and radiant.

Hunter let out a low whistle beside me. “Holy shit…”

“Yeah,” I breathed, stepping forward, my eyes taking it all in. “It’s beautiful.”

There was no denying it, she’d spent money today. My credit card was probably crying somewhere in the system. But seeing this? Seeing her vision come to life? I’d give her the whole goddamn world if she asked for it. And then I saw mounted neatly on the wall above the cot, framed in dark wood and glass, sat a small, gleaming pistol, displayed like a piece of art.

I blinked, moving closer. “What’s this?”

Alina turned, that sly little smirk tugging at her mouth. “Bean’s first piece.”

Hunter choked out a laugh behind me, but my gaze was locked on the engraving. The metal was polished to a shine, the lettering etched in clean, deliberate strokes: Donatello.

Something deep in my chest went soft, almost breaking. It wasn’t about the weapon. It was what it meant. She’d claimed our name, not as a brand or a burden, but as something that belonged to her now too. Something she’d chosen.

“Bean’s first piece, huh?” I said quietly, tracing my fingers along the glass. “Kid’s already got better taste than most grown men I know.”

Alina shrugged playfully, but there was pride in her eyes. “Figured it’s never too early to teach them about family tradition.”

Hunter stepped up beside her, looping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Looks like Bean’s taking after their mum already, a badass with style.”

She leaned into him easily, and my throat tightened all over again. This woman had walked into our chaos and, somehow, built something beautiful from the ashes.

I turned to her fully, unable to stop myself from smiling. “You did good, little fighter.”

Her smirk softened into something almost shy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said, stepping closer to press my palm to her stomach. “Better than good. You're making this house a home.”