Austin Montgomery had killed men with less on his mind.
He stood alone in the training room, shirt soaked with sweat, fists bruised and raw from slamming into the sandbag in front of him. But no matter how hard he hit, he couldn't silence the voice in his head.
You're going to be a father.
He hadn't slept since the words escaped Clair's lips two nights ago. The first time she said it, he'd smiled, tight and unsure, like a man hearing the news in a foreign language.
Now it echoed louder than gunshots.
A child. His child. In this bloody empire he built with his hands.
The thought made him swing harder. Again. And again. His knuckles bled.
"Austin," Clair's voice broke through the haze behind him.
He paused but didn't turn.
"You shouldn't be in here."
"You're bleeding," she said gently.
"I've bled before."
"Not like this." She stepped into the room, barefoot, wrapped in one of his black shirts that hung loose over her small bump. "You're not fighting them anymore. You're fighting yourself."
He turned around, his chest rising with short, shallow breaths. "I don't know how to do this, Clair. I can run a billion-dollar empire. I can wipe out cartels, put bullets through skulls without flinching, but I don't know how to be a husband or a father."
"You're already my husband," she said, walking up to him. "And you're going to be his father whether you're ready or not. But you don't have to know everything, Austin. You just have to be here. With me."
He looked at her like she was the only anchor he had left.
"I'm scared," he said, voice cracked like dry earth. "I've never said that out loud in my life."
She reached for his fists, bloodied and trembling. She kissed each knuckle. "You don't have to be perfect. Just real. Just present. That's all I've ever needed."
Austin sank to the bench behind him, dragging a hand down his face.
"When I was a boy," he began, voice low, "my father told me emotions were for the weak. That love was a distraction. He said you can't build an empire with a soft heart."
Clair sat beside him, quiet.
"He beat the softness out of me before I was twelve. By the time Elias and I were old enough to make choices, I chose to lead the family. And I've never looked back... until you."
Clair's fingers brushed his arm. "Do you regret it?"
He looked at her, eyes red-rimmed.
"Not for one second. Because somehow, through the darkness, I found you. And you remind me what it feels like to be human."
They sat in silence. Only the sound of Austin's breathing and the hum of the overhead lights filled the room.
Then he spoke again.
"Elias. I want to trust him. He says he wants peace now. He says he wants to help. But a part of me still wants to put a bullet in his head."
"Then what's stopping you?" Clair asked softly.
"You are."
He met her gaze, and in it was something she hadn't seen before, not just power or rage, but pain. And love.
"You're my anchor, Clair. And if I lose you, I lose myself."
She pressed her forehead to his. "Then don't lose me."
Later that night, Austin stood on the balcony of their room, wrapped in a heavy robe, sipping a glass of whiskey that didn't soothe him.
The stars were out again. But they offered no peace.
He heard footsteps. Elias.
"Didn't expect to see you standing here," Austin said without looking.
"I thought you'd be in bed with your wife," Elias said.
Austin chuckled bitterly. "I was. But some demons don't sleep."
Elias leaned on the railing beside him. The silence between them stretched.
"You know I didn't plan on becoming a traitor," Elias said. "But I couldn't watch you throw everything away."
"You mean protect the people I love?" Austin shot back.
"I mean burn it all down because of one woman."
Austin turned, jaw tight. "Don't you ever speak about her like that."
Elias raised a hand. "I didn't mean it as disrespect. I mean it as awe. I've never seen you this way. You built a kingdom of shadows, Austin. And she brought you into the light."
Austin looked away. "I don't know who I am in the light."
"Then figure it out. Because she's not going to wait forever."
Austin threw the rest of his whiskey over the balcony and walked away.
But Elias called after him.
"You're not your father. Don't become him trying to protect what he never valued."
In the days that followed, Austin began to shift.
He started joining Clair for her morning tea. Listening when she read parenting books. Standing silently while she folded baby clothes she had bought online. He was awkward, stiff, but there. Watching her hum softly as she stirred cream into tea and touched her belly with affection only a mother could offer.
One morning, as she adjusted a small onesie and folded it neatly, he spoke from behind her.
"I want him to have a different life."
Clair turned. "He will."
"I want him to know he's loved. Every day. Even if I'm not there. Even if I fail."
"You won't fail, Austin."
He took the onesie from her and stared at the tiny sleeves. "He's going to be small, isn't he?"
She laughed. "They usually are, yes."
Austin looked at her, something shining in his eyes. He bent down, placed a hand on her stomach.
"Hey, little man," he said quietly. "I'm not great with words, but I promise you this... I'll protect your mother with my life. I'll protect you. And if anyone ever comes near you..."
Clair smacked his arm. "Let's keep the mafia threats to a minimum, Daddy."
Austin laughed, the sound rich and rare.
For the first time in a long time, the darkness in his chest felt less consuming.
He didn't know what tomorrow would bring. The war with the FBI wasn't over. Isadora still hadn't cracked. Enemies still lurked in the shadows.
But for now, in this quiet morning light, he had a wife. A future. And a second chance to rewrite the story of a man who had been forged in violence, but softened by love.
And that, he thought, might just be enough.