Page 55 of Collapsed

“I will take care of it,” Alexie interjects. “Everyone needs to know what happened to him. I will take him to some of our men. They will make sure everyone knows Ivan is dead. There is no more Umbra.” Nodding, I agree with Alexie.

I continue walking past everyone and head up the stairs. Walking into the kitchen, I make myself another cup of coffee and lean against the counter. Katia walks in and grabs a coffee as well. She is followed shortly by everyone else, with Alexie being the last to enter as he finishes his phone call. We all stand there silently for a moment.

“Who wants some breakfast?” Marcela asks. Everyone starts talking at once about what we should make for breakfast. This, this right here, is exactly what I have to look forward to, and I couldn’t be any happier about it.

Epilogue Part One

Nat

Thingshavefallenintoan easy pace at our home. Stryker, King, Conrad, Alexie, Katia, and I have fully moved in. Everything here is as it should be. We made sure to turn the basement into a training center, which is getting used by King and Alexie the most; especially when they come up with their ridiculous bets. They usually make me the prize, but I have yet to complain.

BJ and Lane live in their dream home with her fixed front door. Reds reopening was a success, and we all made sure to give them plenty of business. Her wedding is approaching in a few months, and at times, she has gone full bridezilla mode on us. Alexie is her man of honor and keeps her on an even keel when she is about to go off the rails. He makes sure she gets everything she wants for her perfect day.

Marcela and Laura now live together in the city but are always here for family dinners on Sunday. Marcela also comes by when we discuss work as well. We still conduct most of our meetings at the dining table since we are working on moving the Elite into a new building.

The Elite is still up and running but looks a little different now. We are no longer run by a government entity but instead has been redesigned as a private security firm with Stryker at the helm. He sets up our clients and makes sure things run smoothly behind the scenes. King and Marcela are the go-to for the day-to-day missions and assignments. Conrad is, of course, continues to be our tech whiz but gets his hands dirty when needed. He’s sold a few of his invention prototypes to the government and used the funds to help kickstart our own agency. We are new but have already gotten a few assignments under our belts. Stryker was true to his word, making our specialty in human trafficking.

I’m still a part of the team too but have taken a step back in order to take on a greater part in helping the victims. BJ assists by helping me set up a center for victims of trafficking. She plans to manage the center and make sure any victims we help are immediately set up with services if they want them. While I go on missions from time to time, I make sure to dedicate plenty of time to the center.

Katia also volunteers a lot of her time at the center, but her focus is helping Alexie run their club. They work well together, which basically means Katia tells Alexie what she wants, and Alexie makes it happen. Alexie has his hands full running the Bratva. Everyone believed it was Alexie who took down our challenger, which ensured their respect due to most viewing Ivan as immortal. I never had any intention of truly running the Bratva with Alexie, but he still wants to include me in decisions from time to time.

It’s Saturday night, and I’m getting myself situated on the couch to watch some trashy reality TV and eat a bowl of popcorn by myself. Stryker and Conrad are out looking at possible business locations while King went to meet up with Alexie. Who knows what trouble they are getting into, but they’ll be at the club, and I’m sure Katia will fill me in on their foolishness later.

As I shove a handful of popcorn in my mouth, my phone lights up, saying I have a picture message. I open my phone and see Marcela and BJ together. They are each holding an empty shot glass with a lime wedge in their mouths.What a classy look, ladies.There is a message with the picture.

BJ: Get your ass to Reds. NO EXCUSES! See you soon.

The temptation to turn off my notifications and stay curled up in my pajamas is great, but we haven’t had a good girls’ night out in forever. I decide to not let any moments pass me by and charge up the stairs to get dressed. As I rummage through my closet, it dawns on me that not only have I not had a girls’ night in a long time, but I haven’t done laundry in a while, either. Making do with what I have, I slip on a pair of jeans, a low-cut black tank top, and some strappy wedge sandals. My phone dings a couple more times, with both BJ and Marcela sending me non-stop messages. I message them to chill and that I’ll be there soon.

I make it to Reds in record time and park my car around back. Reds is packed tonight, but I spot BJ and Marcela right away. BJ has claimed her own table on the upper level overlooking the entire space perfectly. She created a bedazzled ‘Reserved For VIP’ sign so no one else can take it. They both spot me as I make my way toward the stairs and start shouting my name. By the sounds of it, they’ve definitely had more than the one shot in the picture

Their table is stacked with empty shot glasses, but they’ve been anticipating my arrival because I see three fresh shots and a red-colored cocktail in front of an open seat. Before I can sit down, BJ is out of her seat and pulls me into a tight hug.

“Oh, my deadly friend, I was worried you wouldn’t come out,” she says through slurred words. “Marcela and I would have come to rescue you from whatever dastardly deeds those brutes were putting you through.”

“I wouldn’t have come,” Marcela chimes in but clarifies when we make eye contact. “I don’t want to see you and the guys in any weird positions. Having to hear it was enough for me.” I try to laugh at her remark, but BJ’s grip is getting tighter. Finally, I pull myself away and leave BJ swaying slightly by herself as I sit in my chair.

They got me a strawberry daiquiri from the taste of it, but it was made with a few extra shots of rum. I wince as I take the first sip as the amount of alcohol catches me off guard. Marcela laughs from across the table, and BJ joins in as she sits down. She lets me know that I have to catch up since I showed up late.

Marcela cuts in with, “Don’t worry about bridezilla, she had a rough meeting with a florist. Apparently, the flowers she so desperately needs are not in season for her wedding, and she needed to let off some steam. Laura had to go into work, and I made the mistake of texting BJ to ask about her flower appointment. I came to make sure she doesn’t sic Alexie after the poor guy.”

I look over to BJ, who is mumbling something about black tulips as she brings her drink to her lips. She’s been working hard on planning her perfect wedding, but BJ is very particular about the things she wants.

“Okay, enough wedding business,” I exclaim, drawing a furrowed expression from BJ. “We need to have a good old fashioned girls’ night like we used to. We went from absolute chaos in our lives and have not given ourselves a chance to really breathe and just take it all in.” Marcela is nodding her head at me, but BJ looks uncertain.

“OOOHH!” BJ shouts out. “Can we have a pre-bachelorette party?” she asks.

“I mean, I said no wedding business…” BJ looks at me with her lips turned down, giving a puppy dog expression. “But fuck it.” I lift one of the filled shot glasses above the center of the table, “Here’s to the first of many pre-bachelorette parties.” BJ’s posture straightens up, and a wide smile grows as she brings her glass to meet mine. Marcela also brings her glass to ours as we clink them together and throw back our shots.Fuck! What the hell was that? Gasoline?My chest immediately starts to feel warm.

“Shots!” BJ yells out, and to my surprise, a server is at our table in no time. She orders some tequila shots, and I feel relief that it’s not whatever horrible concoction we just took. Marcela is trying to wash hers down by chugging the rest of her daiquiri as well. We both look at each other with a mutual concern that BJ didn’t even bat an eye at the horrible taste.

The drinks start to flow freely, and I’m starting to feel more loose as we belt out the lyrics to Miley Cyrus’Flowerssong even though we’re all in good relationships. Suddenly, BJ’s demeanor changes. “I really wish I could buy myself the damn flowers I want for my wedding,” she says as she lowers her head to her straw and starts sucking down her drink.

“You know what we need?” I ask, and BJ looks up from her drink, not removing her mouth from her straw. “Katia,” I answer my own question. “How can we have a girls’ night anymore when we’re missing one of the girls?”

BJ removes herself from her drink to ask, “Isn’t she working?”

Marcela lights up, and I know she’s thinking what I’m thinking. “Rescue mission?” Marcela asks.

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