Page 103 of Cage the Storm
I cradle him against me, and the second he latches, relief washes over both of us. His tiny body relaxes, his hands fisting into the fabric of my nightgown.
I glance at Nico; his eyes are locked on us, something brewing behind them. He runs a hand over his face, exhaling. “I want him with us.” His voice is rough and honest, as if he’s confessing something. “I don’t want him in the nursery. I want,” He swallows hard. “I want to wake up and see you both in our room.”
I press my cheek to Sandro’s head, breathing him in, feeling the warmth of his small body against mine.
“Then we’ll have Sophie move the bassinet to our room,” I murmur.
Nico leans in and presses a soft kiss to Sandro’s cheek. I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together over Sandro’s back. A silent promise: we’re in this. All of us.
Tonight, and every night after, we’ll be together.
Nico doesn’t rest, not yet. He carries me into one of the guest rooms, so Sandro and I won’t be disturbed while he makes the necessary arrangements. Once we’re comfortable, he moves through the halls like a man on a mission, directing staff, overseeing details, ensuring every last piece falls into place. He’s relentless.
The nursery is stripped down, rearranged, and made into something worthy of our son. The bassinet is carried into our room, blankets are carefully folded, and the chair by the window is adjusted so I can sit with Sandro in the early mornings. The security is checked twice, locks reinforced, and cameras repositioned. Nico refuses to leave even the smallest detail unchecked.
Later that day, when I wake, Nico’s standing by the door, watching me. His face is unreadable. In just a few steps, he reaches out his hand, helping me to my feet, as he cradles Sandro in his arms.
“Come see,” he murmurs.
And when we step into our room, the space, now Sandro’s, now ours, is so different.
Gone are the remnants of the life we had before. His bassinet rests against the wall where a mirror used to hang, his blankets tucked neatly beside the chair Nico insisted we keep. The curtains are lighter, the air softer, carrying his scent—indescribable, yet entirely ours.
I watch Nico from across the room. He’s standing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, his breath hitching when he looks at Sandro. He’s trying to hold it together. But it’s not just us anymore. It’s him. It’s our son.
I cross the space before he can retreat, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my palm.
“We did it,” I whisper, my voice barely audible in the quiet room.
His forehead drops to mine, and his arms wrap around me, holding me close. “You almost died.”
“I didn’t.”
His grip tightens. “You almost did.”
I press my lips to his jaw. “I’m here. And so is he. We’re okay.”
He buries his face against my neck, breathing me in and holding me like I might slip away if he lets go.
I let him.
Because after everything, the blood, the battles, the impossible odds, we’re still standing.
The End
EPILOGUE
Nicolai
Some morningsI wake up before the sun. It’s not from nightmares anymore. It’s out of habit. The kind that forms when you’ve spent years preparing for the worst. But today, I open my eyes, and the first thing I see is Luna. Sleeping beside me. And I don’t reach for the gun under the bed anymore. I reach for her now.
She never said the words outright, not at first. But I saw it in her eyes the night Gio died. That calm. That clarity. She hadn’t just survived him. She ended him. And still, I didn’t understand the whole picture. Not until she told me everything. About her father. About how deep this went. She never lied. Just held the truth until I was ready to hear it. Turns out, the woman I love never planned to be saved. She planned to win.
I think about that a lot, honestly. How she never waited for anyone to hand her a way out—she built it herself. Every choice she made, every line she crossed, it was survival, yeah, but it wasalso strategy. I didn’t see that at first. I was too close, too caught up in what I thought protecting her meant.
But she never needed protection. Not like that.
And after everything with her father, after what he did to us, what he tried to do, I realized that the real danger wasn’t in losing her. It was in underestimating her.
