"Name it."
I looked through the window at Valentina crying, and thought of our babies fighting three floors above.
"If something happens to me—if Marco gets to me first—you take care of them. Valentina and the babies. Forever. That's the price—it's all I'll ask. What resources are you planning?"
"Nothing yet. But I need, whatever it takes."
Silence.
Then: "You know I will. But fratello, you're not dying. We're finding Marco, ending this threat, and you're raising those babies." His voice roughened. "Eva would haunt me if I let you do something stupid."
Despite everything, I smiled. "She would."
"So promise—no heroics. No sacrificing yourself. We do this smart, together."
"I promise. But Dom? Thank you. For twenty-three years of having my back. For being the brother I chose."
"Don't." His voice cracked. "Don't do the goodbye speech."
"Just needed to say it."
After we hung up, I made myself a promise: Marco DeLuca would not destroy my family. Whatever it took, he would not win.
They moved Valentina to the secure facility at midnight.
I rode beside her in the armored transport, watching her stare out the window toward the hospital where our babies slept without us.
"They'll be okay," I said.
"Will they?" She turned to me, eyes hollow. "Marco escaped prison. Killed four guards. He knows where our children are."
"The NICU is the most secure location in that hospital. Armed FBI agents at every entrance. He can't get to them."
"He got out of federal supermax. You think hospital security will stop him?"
She was right. Marco was coming. The only question was when.
The secure facility was a converted warehouse—industrial, sterile, defensible. Our "room" was barely furnished: two cots, a bathroom, and armed guards outside.
Valentina lay down carefully, curled on her side, her hand over her belly where the surgical incision was still healing.
I settled beside her and pulled her against my chest.
"I hate him," she whispered. "I hate that he's still controlling our lives. I just want to be with my babies. That's all. Is that too much to ask?"
"No, amore. It's not."
"Then why can't we have it?"
I didn't have an answer. I just held her while she cried herself to sleep, making a silent promise: I would end this. Whatever it took.
Dawn brought a secure hospital visit—forty-five minutes under heavy guard.
Ezio had gained another ounce. Eva's oxygen support had decreased slightly. Both babies settled when we touched them.
"They're getting stronger," Nurse Sarah confirmed. "Every day."
"When can they come home?" Valentina asked.
