Aria winced as she pushed the magazine into the Luger. It wasn’t the first time she’d done target practice since her release from the hospital three weeks earlier, but she still had to brace herself against the pain in her upper body when she moved her arms, lifted the weapon, pointed it at the target.

It wasn’t the only place she spent her time. True to her word, she’d been working in the greenhouse every day. She’d ordered a fresh shipment of soil when she got home from the hospital and had spent the first week planning and ordering seeds while Damian watched her like a hawk.

After a week of being waited on hand and foot, she’d had enough.

They’d started with slow walks around the property, their conversation turning to Primo and everything that had happened. It still hurt to talk about him.

She could still see him as a curly-haired little boy, could still feel his small body nestled next to hers on the sofa while they watched cartoons on Saturday morning, could still feel his arm across her shoulders during their parents’ funeral.

It hadn’t been all bad. It had become important for her to remember all of it.

All of him.

None of them were just one thing. They were all an amalgamation of their DNA and experiences, a mysterious combination of light and dark.

Damian wanted to move her into the light. He wasn’t ready to hear the truth.

Because the truth was, they weren’t done. Malcolm was still out there in the dark.

So was Stefano Anastos.

They’d used her brother, had almost killed her.

She wasn’t afraid of them anymore. She just wanted them dead.

She hesitated at the long table she used to load and clean her weapons, letting her hand rest on her stomach as she thought about the life growing there.

She’d learned she was pregnant during a follow-up appointment after her release from the hospital. Her initial shock had been followed by euphoria.

Euphoria had been followed by determination.

Damian didn’t know yet. He couldn’t know.

Once he knew, he would have no patience for her mission of killing Malcolm and Anastos, and she had to make sure they were dead once and for all if she and Damian had any hope of living in peace with their child.

Which was why she spent equal time in the greenhouse and the firing range. Why she spent time planting for the future and plotting the destruction of those who might threaten it.

“Hello, beautiful.”

She turned to find Damian standing in the doorway of the firing range.

“Hey.”

She walked to the front of one of the firing lanes.

“Want some help?” he asked.

“I don’t need help,” she said. “Not with this.”

She felt his arms slide up her back, down her arms. Felt a lessening of the pain in her chest as he took some of the pressure of the raised weapon off her arms and chest.

“I know you don’t,” he said. “But maybe I just want to hold you against me.”

“Then I won’t say no,” she said.

She felt his hands close around her own over the weapon. They would find Malcolm and Anastos together. They would kill them together.

He would do it for her.

She imagined the life inside her — an innocent life, untainted by pain and fear.

She was going to make sure it stayed that way.

“Ready when you are,” Damian said, his voice soft in her ear, his arms strong around her.

She rested her finger on the trigger and squeezed.