Chapter 10 - THE FINAL CURTAINNikolai Rostov hit the checkerboard floor with a heavy, lifeless thud, his dead eyes staring blankly up at the theatrical lights above.
The dressing room fell completely silent, save for the sound of our heavy breathing.
Clara stood up slowly, brushing a speck of dust off her black blouse, her dark curls tumbling in disarray around her shoulders. She looked down at the dead Bratva boss, then calmly reached over to pick up her hairbrush, setting it neatly on the vanity table.
I lowered my Beretta, staring at her in a mix of absolute awe and sheer disbelief.
"You know," I said, walking slowly across the room and pulling her straight into my arms, burying my face in her neck, "every time I think I need to protect you, you end up saving my life instead."
Clara wrapped her arms tightly around my waist, leaning her head against my chest, listening to the frantic, heavy beat of my heart.
"Well, somebody has to keep New York’s most feared Mafia boss out of trouble," she murmured, a soft, genuine smile touching her lips as she looked up at me. "Besides, it’s a demanding job. But someone’s got to do it."
I kissed the top of her head, pulling her closer as sirens began to wail in the distance, signaling Mateo and the cleanup crew arriving outside the stage door.
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The curtain was finally coming down on the underworld's war, and as I looked into Clara’s fierce, unyielding eyes, I knew one thing for absolute certain:
This was a show I never wanted to end.
