“Does she have a pulse?” Ramiro asked, his tone a barked snap.

Diego’s thumb slipped down to her neck. When he felt the faint flutter, his head sank to rest on her chest. Underneath his ear, her heart beat. It was too slow, but it was beating.

“Thank God,” he choked out, his chest filling with air again, rising in time with hers.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” Ramiro shouted, sounding like he was out of breath too. “What the hell happened?”

“I killed Ashford. He’s dead.”

He lifted his head to stare at the body. It was a reminder of what dead eyes looked like. He wished he could kill the fucking prick all over again.

Her neck had his handprints; the skin where he’d gripped her was paler than the blotchy red of his strangling.

Diego hated how close Hannah was to her asshole husband, even with him dead. Gathering her in his arms, he lifted her, sinking on the couch and curling her into his body as he rocked with her.

He’d dropped his phone somewhere. Ramiro had been saying something. Probably calling him an idiot again. It didn’t matter.

“Hannah, please wake up,” he begged, pulling her tighter against him.

Her eyes remained closed. She still didn’t say anything.

Instead, the smallest of gasping breaths came from the door.

Diego lifted his head to see Connor in the doorway staring at his dead dad.

“Connor,” he called, going for soft but still startling the little boy. The little boy that continued to stare at the corpse. “Hey, Connor. Eyes here, boy,” Diego said.

Connor’s eyes moved to look at him.

“It’s going to be okay,” Diego promised, even though his own head was spinning. “Do you remember me?”

Connor slowly nodded, his face pale as he stared at his mother.

She still had blood on her face, but at least it was turned to his chest. Her hair was matted with it, though.

There was nothing Diego could do about that. He’d have to let her go first, and he wasn’t ready to. “Your mom got hurt,” he admitted, figuring there was no point in lying to the boy. “Come over here. You can give her a kiss. Kisses make things better.” Diego didn’t believe that at all but figured it couldn’t hurt. He worried he might need to grab the kid to keep him from running.

Connor shook his head. “She doesn’t like it.”

“Kisses? Of course she does.” Diego lowered his lips to brush over a spot where her hair wasn’t sticky. “See?”

“No.” Tears filled the boy’s eyes. “She doesn’t like it.”

Diego had only watched their family for a few weeks. He wondered how much Connor had seen in five years despite Hannah trying to protect the boy.

“Come here.” Diego swallowed, shifting his grip to pat the sofa beside him. “She won’t mind this time.” It wasn’t ideal, not that he knew what was ideal in this situation. He wasn’t letting her son leave the room alone, and he couldn’t leave Hannah, so he was relieved when the little boy crawled up on the couch beside him.

“I’m going to take care of her,” Diego promised. “Her, and you kids. For as long as she lets me.”

Connor said nothing as he pressed into Diego’s side, staring down at the pajama pants with bears on them that his mother had changed him into for his nap.

Time passed. Diego wasn’t sure how much.

Ramiro filled the doorway, staring at Ashford’s body after a cursory scan of Diego.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Careful, Ram.” Diego’s eyes slanted toward the boy, who pressed harder into his side.