But I appreciate it more than I can express.

"You partake in this?" My dad's voice is steel.

"No. I'm only responsible for getting her there, but after that, I didn't touch her."

"You stood by while one of my daughters was murdered, and you kidnapped my other daughter to deliver her to someone you knew was a murderer. Even with police protection, so much could've gone wrong. You almost took two daughters from me."

"No, sir, I never would've let them hurt Trix."

My dad scoffs. "I have a hard time believing that."

"Understand you would, but"-Hatch's eyes move to mine-"Trix was my friend."

"Then why did you turn me over to him? Why not let me in on the plan you had with the cops?"

"Cops gave me one chance, Trix. I couldn't risk f.u.c.king it up. I knew once I found the picture of your sister that you had an end game. Good one, too. Never knew until that day you weren't into me. No such thing as a coincidence. Knew you were searching for the man who killed your sister. Knew Eli was searching for a girl. More importantly, knew if we got you to the location, I'd die before I let someone hurt you."

"You hurt me." My jaw still aches when I think about the punishing blows delivered by his hand.

"It's all relative. Not gonna lie, I was p.i.s.sed finding that photo. Realized our entire friendship was a lie. Don't like bein' used."

"Oh, well, I'd care about your hurt feelings, but I don't have a single f.u.c.k to give!"

My dad squeezes my hand. "That's enough. I think we got all we came for." He nods to the security guard over Hatch's shoulder. "Mr. Dusinsky, I want you to know that what you've done to my family has changed who we are. There isn't a day that goes by that we don't miss our daughter. We had dreams for her, dreams to see her fall in love, become a mother, find her way through life, and blossom. We wanted so much for her, and you brutally robbed her of that. Robbed us of the joy of watching it."

Hatch's eyes shine and he sniffs.

My dad leans forward, never taking his eyes off the biker across the table. "I want you to know that we will walk out of here and never again think of what you did to Lana. We won't dwell on it, and we won't allow it to poison our lives. We love our daughter, but she's gone, and nothing is going to change that."

"I understand."

"But before we leave, you should know it's not too late for you. I'm sure you can tell that my past isn't clean." Hatch's gaze darts to my dad's full-sleeved tattoos then back to his face, but he says nothing. "Don't let the sins of your past rob you of the opportunity to do something great."

The biker sits stunned in his seat, and I smile wide at my dad, who manages to soften even the hardest hearts.

My dad grins and stands, pulling my mother up and to his side. "Thank you for your time. And Mr. Dusinsky"-my dad waits until Hatch meets his eyes-"we forgive you."

Hatch's jaw falls loose on its hinges. He blinks slowly and shakes his head.

My dad guides my mom and I follow. We move around the table toward the door, and I don't give Hatch the satisfaction of seeing me look at him. He is dead to me, and while my father may have forgiven him, I never will.

"Son . . ." Hatch jerks as my dad lays a hand on his shoulder. "If it's okay, I'd like to send you something in the mail. Looks like you're gonna have a lot of free time in here. May as well make it useful."

"Thank you, sir."

Those are the last three words I ever heard from Hatch. My dad made good on his plan to send something to him in the mail.

For every year that Hatch was incarcerated, he received a brand new Bible.

Epilogue.

Three years later . . .

Mason.

It's f.u.c.king cold. I knew it would be, but I didn't realize how d.a.m.n freezing the temps would be.

Why my gorgeous girl agreed to make our move this time of year isn't a mystery. h.e.l.l, when we got all the paperwork completed, we were both jumping out of our d.a.m.n skin to get it done.

And here we are, standing at the threshold of a game-changer. A life-changer.

I grip Trix's left hand and toy with the diamond on her ring finger. She turns toward me, those violet eyes glowing with excitement and a little fear. Her cheeks and nose are flushed pink from the chill, and she flashes me a smile that almost sends me to my knees. "I can't believe we're finally doing this."

I lean in, pressing my warm lips to her cold ones. "We've been dreaming of this day. Now let's make it happen."

The first year after we moved in together wasn't easy. Thankfully, with the help of good lawyers and all the information Samuel Dusinsky, aka Hatchet, supplied, anyone involved in Hatch's MC and Elijah's crew was tried and imprisoned. Everyone except my brother. The information he provided to law enforcement must've been good because all he got was home arrest along with a lifetime of community service and the threat of imprisonment if he even looked at the wrong side of the law. Birdman, Jayden, and Harrison refused to cooperate and each did a little time for drug dealing.

"Wait." Trix tugs on my hand. "What if . . . I mean . . . what if they-?"

I silence her with a kiss. My heart warms at the tenderness reflected in her eyes. I cup her face and tilt her chin. My thumb brushes along the scar that runs the length of her neck and she melts into my chest. "Baby, are you getting cold feet?"

A tiny grin ticks her lips. "I can't feel my feet."

I chuckle and kiss the tip of her nose. "Do you regret not having family here with us? I know your dad wanted to-"

"No. I want it to just be us. It's important to me."

"Okay, so what is it? I know I'm ready, we bought a house, you're working full-time at the Youth Center, my job at the UFL is secure . . . we're ready."

Her hair, now naturally blond and free of purple streaks, whips around her face with the arctic wind. She tugs down her beanie. "You're right. We're ready. Plus, if we don't do it soon, we'll turn into icicles."

Hand in hand we stomp up the snow-covered steps to a large door.

"Here we go." She squeezes my hand one more time before I pull it open and usher her inside.

We're greeted by an older lady, who rattles off something in Russian. I've been studying for the last year, but her words are too quick to keep up with.

"My zdes' dlya nashikh detey." Trix's words come out just as quickly, and luckily that's a phrase I'm familiar with.

A grin tugs at my lips, and my chest is engulfed with warmth. We're here for our children.

Trix.

I can't breathe. Stepping through the doors of the orphanage where Svetlana and I were adopted from, I'm overwhelmed with so much love. I don't remember my time here, but my soul recognizes it instinctually.

After we show the woman up front our paperwork and identification, she motions for us to follow her.

My hand is gripped so tightly in Mason's I don't know who is holding harder. The Russian language filters through from different rooms, echoing on walls along with the giggles of children. Each time we pa.s.s one, my heart leaps in my chest, conflicted between the feelings of joy that we get to take ours home and the knowledge of those who're left behind.

Mason must feel my tension as his hand releases mine to curl over my shoulder and pull me to his side. His lips touch the sh.e.l.l of my ear. "Don't worry, baby. G.o.d has a plan for all of them. There's a family waiting somewhere."

I nod and hug him to me.

"Zhdi zdes'," the woman barks, and she leaves us in a room that looks like a cla.s.sroom filled with small desks and books.

"She said wait here."

I grin up at him. "Your Russian is improving, Mr. Mahoney."

"I have a great teacher, Mrs. Mahoney." He flashes a big grin; all those white teeth and full lips have me practically swooning, even after two and a half years of marriage.

I pull off my beanie and shrug off my fur-lined coat, suddenly melting from the inside. Unable to sit still, I pace the small room.

"Bea, baby," He leans against a bookshelf looking like the picture of calm hot dude. "Breathe." He's always so relaxed, solid, and constant. He's my rock.

Footsteps sound from down the hallway, and Mason comes to my side, his hand around my waist.

The woman appears, and when she steps aside, a four-year-old boy peers up at us, his big brown eyes wide with fear. My heart lurches in my chest.

I step forward and drop to my knees. "Ne boysya, Feliks." Don't be afraid. I press my hand to my heart. "Ya Beatriks." I'm Beatriks.

He nods, understanding, but his hand grips something behind him.

I lean over to see the dark eyes of a two-year-old little girl wearing a tattered frilly pink dress. Tears well in my eyes.

"Moya sestra, Tatyana." My sister. He presses his free hand to his chest. "Moya sestra."

My breath leaves on a rush, and I almost tumble backwards except for the powerful arms that come behind me to hold me up. Tears stream down my face, the rightness and power of the moment nearly taking me off my feet.

"My zdes', chtoby otvezti tebya domoy." The deep timbre of Mason's voice as the words fall from his lips send renewed strength. We're here to take you home.

Feliks' eyes widen, but this time not with fear, with excitement. "My oba?"

"Yes, both of you. Vy oba."

Tatyana steps out from behind her big brother, her head a mess of dark curls and skin as pale as the snow. "Feliks?"

The boy, our son, doesn't take his eyes off Mason. "Mama i papa?"

"Da." Yes. The one word shakes from Mason's lips.

Both children take a step forward, eyes asking the unspoken question. I open my arms, and they fall into them with a force that sends me back into Mason's chest. Tears drip from my eyes as I hold my son and daughter for the first time, knowing that everything in my life has led up to this moment. Led here by not only Svetlana's life, but by her death.

My husband's arms wrap around us protectively. Comforting and holding us together as we allow the first few threads of our family bond to weave together.

As if I could feel her joy from heaven, my heart swells, knowing that Lana is rejoicing in this. Her death was not in vain if it meant bringing us to this moment.

Thank you, moya sestra.

We sit like this for a long time, as little hands hold us tight as if they're afraid this is all a dream, like we might walk away and they'll be stuck without parents, without our love. So we wait, we hold our son and daughter while leaning on each other, and we do it until they feel safe. If it takes days, we'll do it until they know that they are ours. To love and protect.

Feliks is the first to peer up, his eyes going right to Mason's. "Navsegda, papa?"

A tear drips down Mason's cheek to disappear between his smiling lips. He cups his son's jaw and nods. "Yes, syn. Forever."

The End.

Acknowledgments.

First off, I want to thank G.o.d for allowing me the ability to tell stories, even though I'm sure he rolls his eyes at most of what I write.

Thank you to my husband who is and always will be the only hero in my life. It's your love that inspires me and your support that anchors me.

Thank you to my babies, who have made me feel like I'm the greatest novelist the world has ever seen, even though they have no idea what I write. I love their blind faith.

To my parents and my brother for being the best pimps and my number one fans, thank you. I'd never have the courage to do this if it weren't for you.

A huge thank you to Evelyn Johnson for always having my back and for allowing me to drag her all over the country for signings and events. Your friendship and loyalty are unparalleled.

Thank you to my partner in crime, Cristin Harber. Your friendship has meant the world to me over these last few years, and I look forward to many more.

Big ole high-five to my Critter Crew: Claudia Connor, Cristin Harber, Racquel Reck, and Sharon Kay. You girls know I'd never publish a book without having your eyes all over it. I appreciate you all more than words can adequately express.

To my friend Amanda Simpson at Pixel Mischief Design, thank you. It's your creativity that has molded the face of my brand. Your brilliance and skill are awe-inspiring, and I couldn't have hand picked a better or more talented person to work with.

Always a huge thank you to the talented Elizabeth Reyes. I'd never have had the cajones to write if it weren't for your encouragement and support. Thank you for your time and, more importantly, your friendship.

Thank you to Theresa Wegand for editing and proofreading all my books and for not firing me for forcing you deep into the Urban Dictionary. It's been such a joy to work with you, and I look forward to tackling many more books together.

None of this would be possible if it weren't for the readers who've given my books a chance. There are so many incredible authors out there, and I'm humbled and honored every time a reader picks one of my books. Thank you for taking a chance on me.

Last but not least and probably the most important, thank you to all the Fighting Girls who support me and the books with the kind of steadfast love only an FG is capable of. I'd be nowhere without you girls. You mean the world to me.

Fighting for Forever Playlist.

"Shadow of the Day" by Linkin Park.