"She's not a traitor," I told Luciano later, my voice calm even though I wanted to scream.

He didn’t even glance my way. "I know her lips. I don’t know her blood."

I stepped closer. "You love her."

"I can love her and still be wrong," he snapped, like it was a confession he didn’t want to make.

I looked him in the eyes. "No. You can love her and still lose her. That’s what you’re really afraid of, isn’t it?"

That night, I held Ciara as she cried. Not because of bullets or threats. But because he had doubted her. That cut deeper than anything else. And as I wrapped my arms around her, I knew someone out there was still watching. Still hunting.

And sooner or later, one of us would be the next to fall.

Ciara's POV

We ran. We didn’t pack. We didn’t look back. We just ran.

The safehouse was small and cold. Concrete walls. No windows. A single bulb that flickered like it might give up any second. Three weeks passed, then four. Soraya barely spoke. Mateo had taken her voice with him.

I couldn’t sleep. My stomach twisted every morning. Everything felt wrong. Then came the test. Two pink lines. And my whole world shifted.

I stared at it for what felt like forever. I didn’t know whether to cry or scream.

Soraya sat beside me. "Does he know?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

She didn’t flinch. "Then we keep it that way. Until it’s safe."

But in my bones, I knew the truth—nothing would ever be safe again.

Luciano's POV

Mateo died in my arms.

The ambush came out of nowhere. We were gathering supplies in a normal routine. Until it wasn’t.

He saw the shooter first. Shoved me to the side and took the hit that would have been me.

Didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Just grit his teeth, shoved his gun into my hand, and whispered, "Protect her."

Then he collapsed.

I shot them all. Every last one. But it didn’t bring him back.

I sat with him for hours. Couldn’t move. I couldn't think.

When I returned, Ciara opened the door. She didn’t ask. She saw it in my face. She just placed her hand on my cheek and said, "I’m sorry."

That simple gesture broke me in a way bullets never could.

Soraya's POV

He died for Luciano. For the man Ciara loves. That made it worse.

Mateo never told me he loved me. But I saw it—in his silence, in his loyalty, in how he always stood behind me.

Now he is gone. And Ciara was carrying life, while I felt like a grave.

Still, I looked her in the eye and said, "No one will know. Not yet. We protect this child—together."

She held my hand. Nodded. And for a moment, we weren’t lost. We were still standing.

Even if everything else was in ruins.

Luciano's POV

Fire strips away everything fake. Everything is weak. It leaves only the truth.

Three months in hiding. One funeral. My kingdom scattered.

I called the men I trusted. "We take it all back. Every street. Every life. Every name."

They followed.

But power brings whispers. And one whisper cut deep.

"Ciara knew. She was sent by her father."

I wanted to kill the man who said it. But once doubt enters, it never really leaves.

That night, I watched her sleep. Her hand rested over her stomach. Peaceful. Soft.

And I wondered. Just for a second.

And I hated myself for it.

Ciara's POV

He looked at me like he didn’t trust me. He barely touched me. Barely spoke.

I saw it. I felt it.

Soraya noticed. "He’s scared," she said. "Not of you. Of losing control. Or maybe losing you."

We moved back into the mansion. Luciano had won his war. But I had lost something nameless.

Then one night, I couldn’t take it anymore. "I loved you when you were bleeding on the floor, when you didn’t care who saw."

He turned. "And I protected you when everyone thought you were a spy."

"Then why do you look at me like I’m going to stab you in your sleep?"

He didn’t answer. And that silence hurt more than a thousand words.

Soraya's POV

She cried again that night. I held her again.

Two women—one full of life, one full of grief—both betrayed by the men we loved.

"They’re scared," I told her. "That’s why they push us away."

She sniffled. "He thinks I’m like my father."

"No," I said. "He thinks he’s like him. And he hates himself for it."

We sat in silence. There was no forgiveness. No promises.

Just two women holding on to what little they had left.

And one child, growing quietly in the shadows.

Luciano's POV

We took the city back. Street by street. Inch by bloody inch.

But the more I rebuilt, the more I felt myself fall apart. I had power again. But not peace.

Ciara moved like a ghost around me. I could see the pain in her eyes. And I hated myself for not fixing it.

One night I sat in my office, staring at a photo of Mateo. Remembering his last words. "Protect her."

But how do you protect someone from your own doubt?

Ciara's POV

He still hadn’t asked about the baby. I didn’t know if he knew or not.

Maybe he was pretending. Maybe he didn’t care.

Maybe he was waiting for a reason to leave.

But Soraya reminded me, “You didn’t survive this long to hide now.”

I nodded. and that night, I went to him. "I’m pregnant."

He said nothing. Just stood there.

And I turned away, heart pounding, thinking I had lost him forever.

But then his hand found mine. Gentle. Careful.

"I knew," he whispered. "I was just scared to believe I deserved it."

I didn’t cry. I just leaned into him and let the silence mean something good for once.

Soraya's POV

We buried Mateo at sunrise. No speeches. Just silence.

I left a single white rose. And whispered, "You didn’t say goodbye. But I knew."

Ciara stood beside me, her hand on her belly.

We were still here. Still breathing. Still burning.

Even if everything else had turned to ash.

And that would have to be enough.