Page 168 of Inevitable Endings
“Karpov.” The old Devil perks up, always eager to wrap up criminals.
“You’ll finalize the document leak. Lorenzo’s bloodline, Isabella’s identity, the forged and hidden past. We spread it strategically. Anonymous drops to certain Bratva lieutenants,old-school mobsters, even FBI assets. Enough to make everyone question who they’re really following.”
His fingers tighten around the folder like it’s sacred. “I’ve already written the headlines.”
“Good,” I say. “Let them choke on truth.”
“Dominik,” I turn next, and I soften, not out of pity, but respect.
“You play the hunted. Make it believable. Let them find your scent. Move erratically. Feed false intel through channels we know they monitor. But when the moment comes, when they land in New York, you vanish. You won’t face them. I will.”
He doesn’t write this time. He simply nods. His mouth is stone, his body carved from silence, but I know he understands the part he’s about to play.
“Ada.” She looks up sharply, expectant.
“You’ll monitor everything and help leak the document. Set up the data architecture. Drones, encrypted comms, and layered backups. We’ll wire the place before the council arrives. I want multiple fail-safes. If they try to cut us off, we own the sky.”
“I’ll give us eyes in the dark,” she says, fingers already poised to code.
“And once the bloodline leak goes live,” I add, “you’ll trigger a timed release to global news servers. They’ll try to suppress it, but the files will be in too many hands. Everyone related to the Gambino family will know what he did.”
She offers a rare smile. “I can make it stick.”
Finally, I turn to the only one who hasn’t spoken much.
Isabella hasn’t flinched once. But I see the lines of tension across her knuckles, the small motion her freckle-stained nose makes.
“I’ll stay behind,” she says quietly, voice measured. “With Ada. I’ll monitor from a distance. It’s safer. Less—”
“No.”
The word cuts the air, final. A gunshot.
She looks up sharply, but I don’t waver. I get up and step closer, slow and sure, until I’m standing right in front of her, between her and the rest of the room. Not to shield her from them, but to speak to her directly, alone in this moment.
“You won’t stay behind,” I say, voice low. Controlled.
Her brows crease. “Aslanov, it’s—”
“You will walk with me,” I interrupt. “At my side. Not behind me. Not beneath me. As my equal. As my woman.”
The room is silent again, but this silence feels different. It belongs to us.
“I don’t need someone watching from a distance,” I continue, softer now. “I need you beside me. Where you’ve always belonged.”
She’s breathing harder now, but she doesn’t look away. Her throat moves as she swallows.
I lean in just enough for only her to hear the next part.
“If anything goes wrong, if the world burns around us, you won’t fall. Not while I’m breathing. I will protect you with everything I am. With my life, if it comes to that.”
I lift my hand and brush her skin with a knuckle. Just a tether.
“Because you are mine, Isabella. And they will know it. Every man in that room. Every eye on that council. They will see it written on your skin, in your fire, in the way I stand beside you, and they will know you’re not a pawn in someone else’s game. We’ll be two bloodlines as one. You’re the endgame.”
Her breath stills, just for a second, but she doesn’t look away. Her face flashes red, blood pumping through her veins up her cheeks. Life, let them be full of it.
‘‘You’re my endgame.’’
