Chapter 24 – Konstantin
I wake to the antiseptic scent of the medical wing, the faint hum of monitors, and the steady, soft rhythm of Raelyn’s breathing in a chair beside me. Her hand is in mine, warm and grounding, fingers curled around mine as if she’s holding me tethered to life itself.
Lev sits a few feet away, arms crossed, smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth. I glare at him without opening my eyes. “Say something, Lev, and I swear—”
He holds up his hands, still smiling. “I’ve never seen you like this, brother. Wrecked and…relieved. At the same time. It’s…fascinating.”
I groan, pressing my face into the pillow, willing the ache in my shoulder and ribs to fade. Relief. Terror. Fury. Exhaustion. It all tangles in my chest. She’s here. Alive. Safe. And for the first time in hours—or maybe days—I allow myself a fraction of stillness.
I flex my hand, feeling hers tighten around it, and mutter, “She doesn’t know how close it was.”
Lev leans back, shaking his head. “She’ll never truly understand. But that’s what makes her…perfect for you. She sees everything, survives everything. And somehow, you don’t break her.”
I let out a dry laugh, not entirely amused, and shift my gaze toward her. She’s asleep, head tilted slightly forward, soft lines of worry and care still etched into her face from last night. Something inside me claws with protective possessiveness.
I tighten my grip on her hand. “I won’t ever let anything touch her,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. “Not ever again.”
Lev watches me, smirk fading into something almost unreadable. “I know exactly how you feel. I’d go to hell for Sasha.”
I’m about to respond when Raelyn stirs. Her eyes flutter open, wide and shimmering with tears, and before I can speak, she climbs onto the bed, pressing herself against me. Her hands clutch my chest, her face buried near my shoulder. “You lost so much blood… I was so scared,” she whispers, voice trembling.
I hold her tighter, one hand cradling her head, the other brushing over her back. “I’m fine,” I murmur, voice low and raw. “You’re safe. That’s what matters. The war… it’s over.”
Her tears soak into my shirt, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I allow myself to simply be with her, in the quiet aftermath, knowing we survived it all together.
***
Weeks pass in a blur of aftershocks and recovery. Investigators from allied networks comb through evidence, decrypt files, and uncover layers of corruption. Reed’s machinations are laid bare—half a dozen officers toppled, their careers ruined, their complicity exposed. Markov’s death fractures the web of control he had over the city; territories once suffocating under his thumb breathe freely again.
Hart’s case is officially closed, but for Raelyn and me, the truth carries weight beyond paperwork. We hold it like a blade tempered in fire—sharp, unyielding, a reminder of what was lost, what was fought for, and what we must never allow to happen again. The grief is still there, yes, but tempered now with clarity, with purpose, and with the unspoken promise that we—together—are unbreakable.
Today, as I pace the room, waiting for Raelyn to come in from the library, my heart pounds. It’s been two months since everything ended, and they’ve been the happiest days of my life.
Everything settled.
Raelyn returned to school and caught up faster than anyone expected. It was a battle getting her to accept five security guards—we compromised on two.
As if.
I still have three more shadowing her every time she leaves the house.
We tell each other I love you every day. Sometimes in passing. Sometimes whispered against skin in the dark. Sometimes said like a promise we’re daring the world to challenge.
And it’s been bliss.
But one thing remains.
She cried on our wedding night.
Not soft tears. Not overwhelmed joy. Fear. Shock. Trauma. And even though she never says it weighs on her, it has lived inside me ever since. A quiet failure I refuse to accept.
I want to change it.
That’s why I’m pacing our bedroom now, a small black box heavy in my palm. A diamond ring inside—clean, brilliant, chosen with care. Not to replace what we already have, but to reclaim it.
A fresh proposal.
A new wedding.