Page 46 of Crystal Veil

“Prepare the transport,” I instruct. “He's going to Siberia. That old settlement near the permafrost. No cells or comforts. Just a shovel, a coat, and the choice to work or die.”

Artur nods, understanding immediately. The settlement is a place of exile, a frozen hell where men go to disappear. It's not a prison in any traditional sense, but a place where survival itself becomes the punishment. Sergey will have to work to live, earning every breath, every meal, and every moment of warmth. It's a slow death, a gradual erosion of everything that makes life worth living.

And that's the real punishment, the true justice. Death would be an escape, a release from the pain of understanding what he's thrown away. But living with the knowledge of his betrayal, existing in exile with the memory of what he used to be, that's a fate worse than any death I could devise.

The door slams shut behind us as we leave him in the dark, alone with his pain and his regret. Whatever happens to Sergey now in the frozen wastes of Siberia is no longer my concern. He's been judged, sentenced, and removed from my world as surely as if he'd never existed.

Later that night, I stand on the terrace outside my study. The sky above is lit with stars, oblivious to everything that happened beneath them. The city breathes with its own rhythm, unaware of the justice that was served in the darkness below its streets.

Elena joins me quietly, her presence immediately transforming the atmosphere from solitary contemplation to one of shared peace. She slips her hand into mine, her fingers intertwining with mine in a gesture that speaks of partnership, unity, and two people who've chosen to face the world together.

“Do you regret it?” she asks, her voice soft against the night air.

The question probes deeper than simple curiosity. She's asking if I've compromised myself or shown weakness that could be exploited. If I can live with the choice I've made and accept the consequences of mercy in a world that rarely rewards such decisions.

“No.” I look down at her, brushing a hand over her belly where our child grows. “Because I'm not just apakhananymore.”

The words signal a transformation, an evolution from one thing to another. I'm still the head of the Rostov Bratva, still the man who makes the hard choices and bears the terrible responsibilities. But I'm also something more now, encompassing and transcending the role I've played for so long.

She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder, her warmth seeping through the fabric of my shirt. “No. You're something better.”

I hold her close in a comfortable silence. Tomorrow will bring more battles, more choices, more moments where I'll have to decide between the old ways and the new path Elena has shown me. But tonight, I've chosen something stronger than vengeance, and more lasting than revenge. I've chosen legacy. The future over the past, hope over hatred, love over the endless cycle of violence that has defined my world for too long. Andin making that choice, I've found something I never expected to discover in the darkness of my life. I've found peace.

20

ELENA

The wind brushes against my cheek as I step out onto the upstairs balcony, the salty air stirring my hair like a whisper. Evening paints the sky in streaks of lavender and rose, the last rays of sunlight dripping across the horizon like melted gold. Below, the estate grounds stretch out, palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze. From up here, everything looks serene. But inside me, nothing feels quiet.

My fingers trace the smooth marble railing as I lean forward. Every decision I've made has led to this moment, standing here in Renat's sanctuary, carrying his child, feeling the ground shift beneath my feet in ways I never expected.

The door behind me opens with a soft creak. I don't have to turn to know it's Amelia. She's the only one who comes without making noise, without needing permission. The only person who ever let me be Elena Martinez without asking for anything else in return. Her presence wraps around me like a warm blanket, familiar and comforting.

“Thought I'd find you out here,” she murmurs, her voice as familiar as my own heartbeat.

She steps beside me, her hand resting lightly on the balcony rail. She's dressed simply, in a soft linen blouse tucked into jeans, her hair swept back in a low ponytail. The years have only made her more striking, but it's the fire in her eyes that still anchors me. That spark of determination reminds me that, even when we were children, we could be more than our circumstances.

“I needed air,” I whisper, my voice a hush above the distant sound of waves.

She studies me in silence, her blue eyes reading me like an open book. “That's not all you needed.”

I bite my lip, my fingers curling around the railing. I know why she's here. Because I told her everything. About Renat. About the baby. About the choices I've made that terrify me more than anything I've faced as a journalist. And because she knows me better than anyone, she's not going to let me hide behind my walls.

“He let Sergey live,” I state. The words feel like ice melting on my tongue. “But he didn't let him walk away whole. He stripped him of everything. His title. His ink. His identity. Sent him to Siberia with nothing but shame and regret.”

Amelia exhales, slow and steady. Her fingers drum against the railing, a nervous habit she's had since childhood. “And how do you feel about that?”

I think about the look in Renat's eyes when he turned away from Sergey. The steel in his voice when he delivered judgment. The way his hands remained steady even as he pronounced a fate worse than death. He could have pulled the trigger. The old Renat, the one driven purely by brutality and tradition, wouldhave. But he didn't. He chose something else that showed mercy and wrath all at once.

“I don't know,” I admit, my voice cracking slightly. “Part of me wanted him to end it. But I couldn’t let him live with Sergey’s blood on his hands.”

She turns sharply toward me. “Elena...”

I close my eyes, letting the truth settle into my bones. Renat is ruthless, but he's not cruel. He's controlled by principle, not rage. Every violent act he commits is calculated. Strategic. And when he touches me, there is no domination in it. No erasure of who I am. Only heat. Only worship and reverence that make my knees weak.

The breeze picks up, carrying with it the scent of night-blooming cereus from the garden below. I open my eyes and watch as the last traces of daylight fade from the sky, leaving us in the soft glow of the estate's security lights.

“He chose to let Sergey live,” I continue, my voice growing stronger. “He chose restraint when everything in his world told him to choose violence. And he's been different. Since I told him about the baby.”