Three years later.

Time passed with grace. Things changed.

Rafeal became the leader of the Deathroll, a true Don that carried it well—commanding, lethal, calm. They remained the most feared in the underworld.

But still, Rafeal remained the same man who watched Milena like she was everything. She was expecting now. His child. His beginning. His peace.

“He’s going to look like you,” Milena whispered, gently rubbing her belly, her wedding ring glinting under the dim light.

“How can you tell it’s a boy?” Rafeal whispered. “What if it’s a little you? Another little wild flower? Or maybe both of them?”

Milena chuckled at his words. Rafeal cupped her face...