Chapter 10 - THE HOUSE ON THE RIDGE
One Year Later
The morning mist was lifting off the green rolling hills of the Hudson Valley, revealing a wide, beautiful timber-frame house sitting on a three-acre sanctuary overlooking the water.
The property was surrounded by a simple wooden fence—not iron security bars, not concrete blast walls, but warm, honey-colored pine that let the sun filter through.
In the middle of the grass meadow, four rehabilitated working dogs—a Malinois, two German Shepherds, and a Golden Retriever—were running through an agility course I had designed. Among them, running with a light, joyful stride, was Luna. Her fur was thick, black, and glossy in the sunlight, her shoulder scar completely faded under her coat. She carried a yellow tennis ball in her mouth, her tail wagging wildly as she trotted toward the porch.
On the wrap-around porch sat Roman.
He wore a simple linen shirt and dark trousers, his laptop open on a rustic wooden table, but he wasn't looking at financial ledgers or security feeds. He was looking at a blueprint for the second dog rescue barn we were building at the edge of the forest.
I stepped out of the kitchen, carrying two fresh mugs of coffee, and set one down beside his elbow.
Roman reached up, taking my hand in his, pulling me down until I was sitting on his knee. He leaned in and kissed my lips—a slow, deep, comforting kiss that tasted of sweet coffee and home.
"The federal court finalized the asset forfeiture dissolution this morning," Roman said softly, his dark eyes warm as he looked into mine. "The last remnants of Volkov’s syndicate have been cleared. The mountain property is officially yours, Odessa. Yours and the dogs'."
I looked out over the sunlit field—at Luna playing with the other rescued working dogs, at the green trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and at the man who had traded an empire of violence for a life of quiet peace beside me.
"Not just mine," I murmured, resting my forehead against his shoulder. "Ours."
Luna bounded up the wooden porch steps, setting her yellow ball down at Roman’s feet, her dark brown eyes bright, trusting, and completely healed. She let out a soft, happy huff, resting her heavy snout on both of our knees.
Roman reached down with his right hand, scratching her behind her left ear, while his left hand held mine tight.
May you like
"She’s happy," Roman said quietly.
"We all are," I whispered, leaning into his warmth as the morning sun filled the valley, bringing light to the house on the river that would never know darkness again.
