𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵

Epilogue - Where Monsters Rest.

Four years later.

New York.

The morning sun streamed through the open curtains, warming my face as my eyes blinked open. Of course, Yasenia had left them open again. Four years together, and she still hadn't broken this habit.

I smiled, shifting slightly to glance at her. She was curled up in my arms, fast asleep, with Juan-Axel nestled against her, his tiny hands clutching onto her like she was his whole world. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, then another to our son's soft little curls.

It still amazed me how much he looked like me. Jet-black hair, but those big brown eyes were all his mother's. Even so, there was no mistaking he was mine—the son I never knew I could love this much.

Yasenia stirred, her hand reaching for my face, fingers lazily tracing my stubble as she mumbled sleepily, "Good morning, amore mio." She pressed a soft kiss to my chest.

"Still tired, tesoro?" I murmured, pulling her and Juan-Axel even closer.

She nodded weakly, but then, out of nowhere, she jolted up, panic flashing in her eyes. "Where's Serena?!"

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Relax, baby. You were so tired you didn't even notice her slip out of bed. Good thing I was here." I smirked. "She's with Fico."

Yasenia let out a relieved sigh, sinking back against me. A slow, amused smile spread across her lips. "Our daughter has good taste," she giggled.

I narrowed my eyes. "Good taste?" I knew she clearly meant Fico.

She just laughed, then leaned down, kissing my bare chest, trailing lower to my abdomen. Her lips lingered over the scar—the one I got four years ago. The one that nearly took me from her. And if it did, I would've died a happy man, knowing the love of my life my kids were safe.

Her fingers traced the old wound, and I saw it in her eyes—the way they glistened, the memory still too raw. "I almost lost you that night, Alessandro," she whispered.

I cupped her face, brushing my thumb over her cheek. "I would die for you and our kids."

"But I don't want you to die for us, Alessandro," she said, exhaling shakily, before tucking herself back into my arms like she never wanted to let go. "I want you to live for us."

I held her tight for a moment, kissing her forehead before pulling away. "Get dressed, baby," I said. "I'll go check on Serena."

I got dressed quickly and headed out. When your wife occasionally left you in charge of two mischievous four-year-olds, you learned to be fast with everything—getting ready included.

Just as I reached the front door, Serena came sprinting inside, her clothes covered in dirt from an early morning adventure in the garden with Fico.

"Daddy! Daddy! Abuela is here! (Grandma)" she squealed, her tiny voice full of excitement.