Seven and a half months.
That's how long it had been since the wedding, since the test, since Luciano Valeri became something more than just a myth in Amethyst's life.
Now he was real in every way.
Flesh, blood… and heart.
Amethyst's body had changed — curved and heavy with the weight of two lives inside her. Her steps were slower now. Her breath shallower. But her mind had never been sharper.
And Luciano?
He had changed too.
The man who once bled cities now sat cross-legged on the nursery floor, trying to assemble a crib with an instruction manual that looked like it had been written by the CIA.
"This piece doesn't fit," he growled, tossing the wooden slat aside.
"You're using it upside down," Amethyst said from the doorway, arms crossed over her belly.
Luciano looked up. She was wearing his t-shirt again — the one that barely stretched over her bump — and her hair was pulled into a loose braid. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
He stood and crossed the room in two strides, kissing her gently. His hands instinctively landed on her belly.
"How are they today?" he asked softly.
"Kicking. Like their father."
"Feisty," he murmured, eyes warming. "Good. The world's going to try to crush them. They'll need that."
They sat down together on the couch near the window — a quiet little space she had claimed just for them. He rested his head against her shoulder, one hand still over her stomach, feeling the life inside shift beneath his palm.
"You know," Amethyst said, "you used to terrify me."
Luciano raised a brow. "Used to?"
"You still do," she teased. "But now it's mostly when you're near power tools."
He chuckled, low and real.
A beat passed.
Then she whispered, "Are you scared?"
He was quiet for a moment, thinking.
"Yes," he finally said. "Not of being a father. But of losing you. Of failing them. Of being the kind of man they'll one day look at and… flinch."
She reached for his hand and laced their fingers together.
"You're not your past, Luciano. And they won't flinch. They'll fight for you. Like I do."
He didn't reply.
He just kissed the back of her hand and pressed it to his chest like a vow.
—
Later that night, they laid in bed with the balcony doors open, letting in the soft summer breeze. Her head was on his chest, his hand splayed protectively over the swell of her stomach.
"We still need names," she whispered.
"We do."
"What about Matteo and Rhea?"
He frowned. "Matteo's my consigliere."
"So?"
"He doesn't get naming rights."
She laughed, then groaned softly as the twins shifted.
Luciano immediately sat up, alarmed. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, wincing. "They're just practicing kickboxing again."
He placed both hands on her belly, gently rubbing.
"You're safe," he whispered, not to her — but to them.
Then he looked up, eyes dark and soft and dangerous all at once.
"I've never loved anything like this," he said. "It terrifies me."
Amethyst reached for him, pulling him back down into her arms.
"We're allowed to be terrified," she whispered. "But not paralyzed."
That night, no alarms sounded. No gunfire. No traitors.
Just Luciano and Amethyst, wrapped in something dangerously close to peace.
But they both knew it wouldn't last forever.
Something was coming.
They just didn't know who — or when.