Luca paused outside the bedroom door, his hand hovering above the handle. The corridor was quiet, save for the distant hum of voices from the security wing. He stood perfectly still, listening to the silence he had fought so hard to maintain. Behind the door, behind layers of protection and walls thick enough to withstand an explosion, was the only person who could bring him to his knees without ever raising a hand.
Aria.
He pushed the door open quietly.
The room was dim, softened by afternoon light slipping between the curtains. Aria lay asleep, her body curled slightly on her side, one hand resting on her belly as though even in sleep she sought to protect the life beneath her palm. The rise and fall of her breathing was soft and steady. Too steady. As though she had pushed her anxiety so deep into herself that even her sleep carried traces of discipline. That thought alone made something inside Luca twist sharply.
