LOGINbabushka i dedushka - Grandma and Grandpa Ded - pop/grandpa Babulya - Granny
It didn’t feel real until about a week later. The first few days home were a blur, unpacking, cleaning, catching up on sleep, trying to remember what normal felt like. But now… now the house felt lived in again. Warm. Safe. Ours. Kat, Wolf, and their three kids had left earlier in the week to head back to Jasper. The boys needed to get back to school, and Wolf had club business waiting for him. Kat texted me every day, checking in, sending pictures of the boys, asking how I was feeling.And even though Koda was four years younger, he and Gabe talked every afternoon. FaceTime, voice messages, little videos of whatever Koda was doing. Gabe didn’t mind the age difference, if anything, it made him feel older. Responsible. Ready to be a big brother. He told me that yesterday, actually. “I think talking to Koda helps,” he said. “So I know how to help the baby.”My heart melted. Now, I stood in the hallway with GreenLee, Ciara, Nonna, and Abuela, all of them helping me clean out the room I w
The house felt different the moment we walked in. Not tense. Not on alert. Just… ours again. Sara unpacked slowly, touching things like she was reminding herself they were real. Gabe ran straight to his room, yelling about how he missed his bed. Even the air felt familiar, the quiet hum of the AC, the faint smell of lemon cleaner, the creak in the hallway floorboards. Home.Abuela was settled back at her place with her nurse and guards posted around the property. Matteo and I had checked everything twice before leaving her. She hated the extra security, but she didn’t argue. Not after everything Juan pulled. Wolf, Kat, and their 3 kids were staying the night, but they’d be gone in the morning. The boys needed to get back to school, and Wolf had to check on the club. Prez duties didn’t wait, even for family emergencies.I stood in my office, staring at the map spread across the table, Juan’s network, his routes, his contacts, the mess he’d built here in the States. Matteo leaned agains
I couldn’t believe they actually did it. They really brought me here. To the middle of nowhere. To a ranch. With dirt. And animals. And no city for hours. I wasn’t a country girl. I wasn’t built for this. I was supposed to be in the city, in heels, in nice clothes, with people who mattered. Not… here. And the worst part? I didn’t even know Russian.Mama tried to teach me when I was little, but why would I need it? I lived in America. I wasn’t planning on running off to some frozen farm in the middle of Russia. I tuned her out every time she tried to talk. Now, I wished I hadn’t. Now I was sitting at a long wooden dinner table, surrounded by people speaking a language I barely understood, pretending I wasn’t dying inside.And Babulya was gushing over Marco. Marco...The man who stole my brother from the life he was supposed to have. “Oh, Roc,” she said, patting Marco’s hand like he was made of gold. “He is so handsome. Such kind eyes. You chose well.”I stared at her in disbelief. “Why
I hated packing. Not because it was hard. Not because I didn’t want to go. But because every folded shirt, every zipped bag, every checklist reminded me that this trip wasn’t a vacation. It was damage control. Marco sat on the edge of my bed, watching me shove another sweater into the suitcase. “You’re going to break the zipper,” he said gently.“I’ll buy a new one,” I muttered. He didn’t argue. He knew better. The lockdown being lifted should’ve felt like freedom. Instead, it felt like a countdown. The sooner we got Letta to Russia, the sooner I could get back here and help Salvatore and Matteo deal with Juan. I wasn’t leaving them to handle that alone. Not after everything. From the hallway, I heard my parents talking in low voices, my mother switching between English and Russian as she double‑checked flight details. My father reminding her to pack warm clothes even though it was summer there too.Marco leaned back on his hands. “You’re nervous.”I froze mid‑fold. “About what?”He ga
I folded the last of Gabe’s shirts and set it gently into the suitcase. It felt strange packing again, not in fear this time, not in a rush, not with my heart in my throat. This time… it felt like relief. Salvatore stood near the dresser, helping me gather the last of his things. He kept glancing toward the door, toward the hallway, toward the basement, his mind split between two worlds. “Once we’re home,” he said, tucking a stack of folded shirts under his arm, “I’ll drive back and forth to deal with Juan. Matteo and Wolf will rotate with me. You won’t be alone.”“I know,” I said softly.He set the shirts down and turned to face me fully. “I’m still putting men with Abuela. And her nurse stays with her at all times. Most of Juan’s men ran, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t a few idiots still loyal to him. They might try to find him. Or free him.”I nodded. “Whatever you think is safest.”He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll talk to the school too. Make s
The silence was the worst part. Not the ropes. Not the cold concrete. Not even the throbbing in my knee from where she...No. I wasn’t thinking about that. It was the silence.The room was empty now. No tools. No table. No threats hanging in the air like smoke. Just a chair bolted to the floor and a cot shoved against the wall. They’d taken everything else. Including the illusion that someone might come for me. My men weren’t coming. My allies weren’t coming. No one was coming. They’d betrayed me. Or abandoned me. Or decided I wasn’t worth the trouble. I wasn’t sure which was worse.I leaned my head back against the wall, breathing through the pain, trying to piece together how everything had gone so wrong so fast. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Voices. I stiffened, listening. Not Ricci men. Not Matteo’s cold command or Wolf’s heavy boots. These voices were softer. Familiar. Roc. And… Letta? No. Not the Letta I knew. This voice was steadier. Older. Tired.“…it’s a good choice,” Roc w
Rafe stood stiffly in front of my desk, waiting for my reaction. The picture on his phone burned into my vision.Sara. My stepsister. The girl I warned. The girl I protected. The girl I thought I’d never see again. And now she was here. In Kansas City. In Ricci territory.I forced my voice steady.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.Our son.The words detonated in my chest, ripping through eight years of silence, eight years of wondering, eight years of trying to bury a ghost. I staggered back a step, gripping the edge of my desk like the ground wasn’t steady anymore.“Who… who is Gabe?”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Salvatore stood there, waiting for me to keep talking, waiting for the truth I’d buried so deep it felt like digging up a corpse. I wrapped my arms around myself. “There’s more.”His jaw tightened, but his voice stayed steady. “Tell me.”“My stepfather’s name is He
She broke. Right there in front of me, the woman I’d spent eight years trying to forget, the woman I’d spent eight years aching for, cracked open like she’d been holding her breath since the day she left. And all I wanted to do was pull her into my arms. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Because I nee







