Page 134 of Deadly Wrath

Love,

Your baby.

My whole fucking world stops, I look at Liv, who’s just standing there with tears in her eyes, and her hands pressing against her flat stomach.

My chest fucking caves in. I look back at the little jumpsuit, then back at her, then at the tiny fucking jumpsuit again.

Liv’s pregnant.

I drop the outfit, grab her, and pull her straight into my arms, crushing her against me. Fuck, I can’t be rough with her. I loosen my hold and kiss her soft and slow. She’s shaking, and her whole body is trembling against mine.

“I know we said we’d wait, but—”

“I want them. I want all of it with you.”

Her breath shudders, and I kiss her again, my hands cupping her face, my thumbs swiping away her tears.

“I love you,” Liv whispers, her lips quivering as a soft, breathless laugh slips out. Even as tears spill down her cheeks, she’s still smiling.

“I love you.” She’s fucking glowing.

“Let’s just hope they don’t have your temper and my sass.”

I huff out a laugh, shaking myhead. “Yeah, or we’re all fucked.”

She laughs again, and I hold her tighter, pressing my forehead to hers.

Fuck. I’ve never felt anything like this before, as if my entire world just shifted beneath me. I’ve spent my whole fucking life without knowing what I was missing, until now. And I’ve never wanted anything more.

I wrap my arms around her, holding her like I’ll never let go, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“We got this,Sirena. Till the fucking end.”

She nods, her fingers curling into my shirt, “You and me… till the end.”

Epilogue

Liv: Five Years Later

I wake up to the smell of something delicious wafting in the air, which is the only reason I even consider opening my eyes. I thought the pregnant nose thing was a damn lie, but I can smell food from miles away.

For a second, I consider rolling over and going right back to sleep. My body is exhausted, my back aches, and I swear to God, these babies are trying to fistfight each other inside me.

But it’s not like I can roll over with this belly in the way. Then, I hear tiny giggles and whispers.

“Be careful, Alexi.”

“I am careful, Aria! You’re the one whoalmost dropped the plate!”

A deep voice rumbles from the doorway. “Both of you, stop arguing before you drop it on the floor, and your mother kills all of us.”

I blink my eyes open, and there he is. Alessio stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. My name across his heart has faded into a scar. He added ink around the scar to make it stand out.

He looks like an enforcer, but with toddlers. Though he’s not one to enforce anything when it comes to our four-year-old twins, especially Aria. She has her daddy wrapped so tightly around her little finger that if she asked for the moon, Alessio would be out there with a ladder and a fucking rope.

Aria, balancing a plate of eggs and bacon in her little hands, her red curls bouncing with every careful step as she tries not to spill a thing.

And Alexi, his father’s spitting image, with sandy brown hair and ice-blue eyes, carrying a tray that’s way too big for him. His brows furrow in pure concentration, little hands gripping the edges like his life depends on it, probably because he’s determined not to spill the juice or send the fruit cup toppling over the edge.

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