His certainty wrapped around me like armor. Like safety. Like the promise that no matter what came next, we'd face it together.
I pressed my hand over his, where it rested on my stomach. Two lives between our palms. Tiny. Fragile. Ours.
"I love you," I said. "I don't think I've said it enough. But I love you. So much it terrifies me."
"I love you too." He kissed me softly. "You, and them, and this impossible life we're building. All of it."
"Even though everything's a mess?"
"Especially because everything's a mess." His smile was gentle. "We're good at messy. We'll be good at this, too."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to list all the reasons we'd be terrible parents—our trauma, our pasts, our complete lack of preparation.
But lying there in his arms, his hand warm over our growing children, I felt something shift inside me.
Maybe we would be good at this. Maybe surviving impossible things made you stronger, not weaker. Maybe love born from darkness burned brighter than love that had never been tested.
Maybe we'd already proven we could handle anything.
Outside the window, Phoenix sprawled below in glittering lights. Somewhere out there, Marco sat in a cell. Somewhere, Sofia was recovering under armed guard. Somewhere, the world was still processing the viral livestream and the dramatic arrest, the exposure of decades of corruption.
But in this room, in this moment, none of that mattered.
Just us. Just the beginning of our family. Just the future stretching ahead—uncertain and terrifying and beautiful.
"May," I said softly. "Seven months from now."
"Seven months to figure everything out."
"Seven months to testify against Marco, enter witness protection, figure out where we're living, and learn how to be parents." I laughed, slightly hysterical. "Plenty of time," I said, and I heard the smile in my own voice.
We were absolutely insane.
But we were insane together.
And somehow, that made it feel possible.
I drifted toward sleep, safe in Alessio's arms, one hand protectively over my stomach where two tiny heartbeats flickered.
Hold on, I thought to them. We're going to give you the best life possible. Safe. Loved. Free. Everything your parents never had.
Just hold on.
Tomorrow would bring complications—legal proceedings, FBI negotiations, medical appointments, the thousand impossible details of building a life from wreckage.
But tonight, we had this.
Peace. Safety. Each other. And two tiny reasons to keep fighting for the future we deserve.
It was enough.
More than enough.
It was everything.
CHAPTER 19
Alessio
