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Sometimes, Luca had vicious nightmares that had him waking up with the gun he kept in his nightstand somehow in his hand, trained on the shadows on the wall across from us.

I knew neither of us would forget waiting for the fire to burn out so the emergency responders could go in and survey the damage . . . and the body count. The flames had burned so hot they were only left with a few teeth to identify the remains.

I’d fainted when Finn took my hands and confirmed Dario’s had been found among the wreckage. A part of me had hoped, if he could survive as much as he had in his life, he could have survived even this.

I knew Luca and I would never stop mourning him and the life he wasn’t ever able to live for himself, but it made us even more determined to suck the marrow out of our existence ourselves. Dario sacrificed himself for us, and that would never be taken for granted.

We were still healing.

And still learning how to love each other, for the first time for both of us, really.

It had terrified me to bring a baby into the world, to think Luca might shy away from me because of it.

But I hadn’t expected the relief when he’d clutched me closely, careful not to crush my freshly uncasted arm, and kissed me on the head.

“Another dream I never thought to wish for,” he confessed. “A son or daughter with your eyes and your laugh.”

Now, nearly three years later, not only had I given him a daughter with my eyes and my laugh, but one with his wavy raven hair who loved her papà more than anything.

I watched Luca push Giada on the swing, marveling at his gentle ease with her when I had seen him torture and murder without qualm. It should have been a terrifying contrast, maybe, but it only heightened the reasons I loved him.

Luca lived his life in extremes, loving with his whole heart and committing to everything he did 100 percent.

“You seem happy,” Ricco said from beside me on the bench, his arm slung over my shoulder. “Pregnancy agrees with you.”

I leaned into his shoulder, stroking the growing swell of my belly with one hand and Cerberus’s head with the other. Through both pregnancies, my beloved dog had been impossible to separate from my side. He slept between the door and our bed and constantly herded Giada away from trouble when she tottered around the house. Luca wondered if he would be as fierce about our next baby, or if the trauma of what happened to me because of Carla and Niccolo had made Cerberus exceptionally vigilant in its wake.

This one was a boy, and we were going to name him Darien after the sacrifice his uncle had made so I could have this. Luca and our babies, Ricco and his family.

After keeping my family from me for years and hiding himself, Dario had ended his life to give it all back to me.

Ricco spent most of his time in Palermo running the Cosa Nostra, but he and his family, including a new baby in the last year, spent Christmas and the month of July with us in Chicago every year.

I wouldn’t have given it up for anything.

Not Papà or Beppe’s lives.

Not even Dario’s.

And I loved that I knew in my heart, Dario wouldn’t have wanted me to.

Luca caught my eye from across the playground, the intensity in those glacier eyes searing me even from a distance.

“Have I ever told you that your husband looks at you like you’re his own personal sun?” Ricco asked.

And I laughed.

Because I knew he was right.

Everything in my life had led me to this moment, in love with a man I could feel in my soul, with a healthy, happy daughter and a son on the way, living my life as the coboss of the Chicago Outfit, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing about the journey if it meant I got to live out this future.

Tень (The Shadow)

They went to the park a lot.

It was funny to see my brother pushing a little dark-haired girl with green eyes on a swing, his own gaze lit up with joy, his hard face soft with contentment. I’d never seen that expression on his face before Fiammetta entered our lives.

He had never been anything but grimly efficient, a soldier always awaiting orders.