Chapter 19 - The New Dawn
By midnight on New Year’s Eve, the war was over.
Viktor Ruslan had been captured attempting to flee through the woods behind the estate. Dante and Vincent had dragged him to the barn, but Roman hadn't gone out to see him. Roman had stayed in the kitchen, sitting on a low stool beside me while Dr. Mercer applied ice to the deep purple bruises on my throat.
The local police never breached the gates.
Three phone calls from Roman’s attorneys in Washington had redirected the emergency response, categorizing the incident as a private security breach at an industrial estate. The bodies were gone; the wreckage was being cleared by heavy bulldozers Roman owned; and the snow was already beginning to cover the blood-soaked lawns once again.
At 2:00 AM, the kitchen was quiet.
The wounded were sleeping in the library; Walter was asleep in a guest suite on the second floor; and the remaining enforcers were resting in the barracks wing, their weapons cleaned and put away.
Roman and I were alone.
He stood by the long prep table, watching me as I quietly swept the last of the broken glass from the tile floor into a dustpan. He had showered, dressed in a fresh charcoal sweater and dark trousers, though the exhaustion in his face was etched deep into the bone.
“Maggie,” he called softly.
I set the broom aside and turned to him. “Yes, Roman?”
He stepped forward, reaching out to take both of my hands into his. He led me away from the stoves, out through the service double doors, through the grand ballroom with its shattered chandeliers, and up the marble staircase to the third-floor conservatory.
The roof was made of reinforced glass. Above us, the storm had completely cleared, revealing a brilliant, velvet-black winter sky studded with a million sharp, freezing stars. The snow on the grounds below gleamed like powdered diamonds under the full moon.
“Tomorrow, the contractors arrive,” Roman said, looking out over his domain. “They will rebuild the gates, replace the glass, and reinforce the walls. But it will never be the same house, Maggie.”
“It’s a safe house, Roman,” I said softly, looking at his profile. “A fortress.”
“No,” he turned to face me, taking my face in both of his hands, his touch so tender it made my eyes sting. “It was a tomb. For ten years, since my sister died, this place was a tomb where thirty men waited to die. You turned it into a home. You gave these men a reason to live, Maggie. You gave *me* a reason to live.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, loud and fast. “Roman… I’m just a woman who knows how to run a kitchen.”
“You are the strongest woman I have ever known,” he whispered, his dark eyes searching mine with an intensity that took my breath away. “You faced down my killers with a ladle. You faced down death to save Vincent. You protected this house when I couldn't.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
He didn't open it. He simply pressed it into my palm, curling my fingers over the velvet.
“The Sullivan Community Kitchen opens in Philadelphia next month,” Roman said softly. “You will have your dream, Maggie. But I want you to make me a promise.”
“What promise?” I whispered, my voice barely audible in the grand, quiet conservatory.
“Promise me that no matter where you go, no matter how many people you feed in that city, you will always come home to Ravenwood. To your kitchen. To my men.”
He leaned down, his forehead resting gently against mine, his breath warm against my lips.
“To me.”
I looked down at the velvet box in my hand, then up into the eyes of the most dangerous man on the East Coast—a man who had brought thirty killers to their knees to call me *Ma*, and who was now looking at me like I was his entire salvation.
I smiled through the tears, my fingers tightening around the velvet box.
May you like
“I’m not going anywhere, Roman,” I whispered, sliding my arms around his neck, pulling him down until his lips met mine in the moonlight. “Somebody has to make sure you eat your vegetables.”
***