The shadow court meets on Friday. A warehouse in Brooklyn, neutral ground, elders from three syndicates gathered to judge one of their own.
Dom presents the evidence. Viktor's meetings with the Kovacs, his threats to Allie, his attempts to undermine the Volkov leadership. He speaks clearly, calmly, without the rage Allie knows he feels.
The elders deliberate. It does not take long.
"Viktor Volkov," the eldest says, "you have betrayed your family, your blood, your oath. The penalty is death."
Viktor pales. He looks at Dom, desperate. "Cousin, please. We grew up together. I was angry, jealous, but I did not mean"
"You meant every word," Dom interrupts. "You threatened my children. My woman. There is no coming back from that."
"Then do it," Viktor spits. "Kill me yourself. Show them what you are, what you will always be. A killer in an expensive suit."
Dom looks at Allie. She nods, small and certain. Trusting him to choose.
"I will not kill you," Dom says. "The court has spoken, and their judgment stands. But I will not be your executioner." He turns to the elders. "Banishment. Strip him of his name, his connections, his place in our world. Let him live, but let him be nothing. That is my request."
The elders confer. They agree.
Viktor screams as they lead him out. Curses Dom, curses Allie, promises revenge that will never come. He is dead to the syndicate, dead to his family, dead to the only world he ever knew.
Allie watches him go. She should feel satisfaction. Victory. Instead, she feels pity. Viktor was broken long before she met him, twisted by jealousy and ambition into something inhuman.
"Are you okay?" Dom asks, finding her in the corner, away from the celebrating elders.
"Yes. No. I do not know." She looks at him. "You showed mercy. When you could have killed him, when no one would have blamed you, you chose mercy."
"I chose your way," Dom says. "The new way. The better way." He takes her hand. "Was I wrong?"
"No," Allie says. "You were right. You are becoming the man I believed you could be."
Dom pulls her close, kisses her hair, holds her while the world celebrates around them.
They leave together, hand in hand, into the cold Brooklyn night.
Sergei summons them the next day. He is worse, the doctors say. Weeks, not months. He wants to see his son. His grandchildren. The woman who has changed everything.
They go to him, Allie and Dom and the twins. Leo is solemn, watchful. Luna is bored by the hospital, fascinated by the machines, chattering about pirates until Sergei actually smiles.
"You," the old man says to Allie, when the children are occupied with a nurse. "You did this. Tamed my son, turned him soft, made him weak."
"I made him strong," Allie corrects. "Strong enough to be kind. To build instead of destroy."
Sergei studies her. He is frail now, shrunken, but his eyes still hold power. "You think you can change us. Change hundreds of years of blood and tradition. You are a fool."
"Maybe. But I am a fool who loves your son. Who believes in him. Who will stand beside him while he builds the future he dreams of."
"And if I forbid it? If I name another heir, disinherit Dominic, cast you all out?"
"Then we build without you," Allie says. "We love each other without your blessing. We are not yours to control, Sergei. Not anymore."
The old man is silent. Then he laughs, a rasping sound that turns into a cough. "You have spine. I will give you that." He looks at Dom, standing by the window, watching his children. "Marry her. Quickly. Before I die. I want to see my grandchildren legitimate. Protected. Yours."
"We are already planning" Dom starts.
"Thirty days," Sergei interrupts. "Thirty days, or I choose another bride for you. Someone who understands this life. Who will raise soldiers, not poets."
"Father"
"Thirty days," Sergei repeats. He closes his eyes, exhausted. "And Dominic? Do not disappoint me. I have buried three sons. I will not bury a fourth."
They leave him to rest. In the hallway, Dom is shaking with anger, with grief, with the weight of his father's demands.
"I will not let him dictate our lives," he says. "We will marry when we choose, how we choose."
"He is dying," Allie says gently. "Let him have this. The wedding, the legitimacy, the knowledge that his line continues. It costs us nothing but time."
"It costs us freedom. Choice."
"We choose each other," Allie says. "That is freedom enough. The rest is just... details."
Dom looks at her. At the twins, emerging from the room with Luna clutching a lollipop and Leo frowning at a medical chart he somehow acquired.
"Thirty days," he agrees. "But Allie? I want it to be real. Not just for him. For us."
"It will be real," Allie promises. "Everything we do from now on is real."
They go home, to their safe house, their fragile family. They begin to plan a wedding that is also a statement, a promise, a beginning.
And somewhere in the city, Marko Kovac watches, and waits, and plans his next move.
The truce is temporary. The danger is real. But for now, they have each other.
And for now, that is enough.