And that's enough.
That's more than enough.
I look at Angelo through the glass. At his tiny chest rising and falling. At his perfect little face.
My angel.
Our son.
Our future.
And I smile.
Because despite everything—the violence, the fear, the pain—we made it.
We survived.
And we're going to build something beautiful from the ashes.
A life. A family. A future.
Together.
CHAPTER 38
Adrian
The warehouse smells like piss and blood and fear.
Gabe is exactly where I left him. Chained to a support beam with filth staining his pants. The leg wound from when my men shot him is festering, red and angry around the edges.
I made sure of that.
Treated it just enough to keep it from killing him, but not enough to make him comfortable.
He looks up when I enter. His face is gaunt. Pale. Dark circles under bloodshot eyes.
Good.
I might have agreed not to kill him, but that doesn't mean I need to give him five-star accommodations. I want the bastard to suffer. My wife can't take our son home because he's still on oxygen, the least Gabe can do is sit in fear.
"Adrian—" His voice is hoarse. He's been fed and watered minimally. Frankly, prison will probably be a breeze in comparison to how he's been treated—if he can avoid the Russians that will target him. Something tells me he will.
Gabriel Romano seems to have nine lives.
As I walk towards him, he tries to shrink back but the chains won't let him and fear flashes across his face.
"Please, I told you where she was. I helped?—"
"You helped after you kidnapped her. After you drugged her. After you endangered my son." I crouch down in front of him. Close enough to smell his terror and piss. "Do you know what happened to her?"
He swallows hard. "Is she?—"
"She almost died. Emergency C-section. Placental abruption from the trauma you put her through." My voice is ice. "Our son was born seven weeks early. He's in the NICU." I close my eyes. "Sera couldn't hold him until yesterday, and even then, she needed gloves and a gown. Do you know what it is like for a mother to not be able to touch her child's skin?"
"I didn't mean?—"
"You cut off part of her ear." I pull out my knife. The same one I used on dozens of men. Clean. Sharp. Efficient. "Eye for an eye, Gabriel. That's how this works."
