I sat down in the vinyl chair next to the crib and let my head rest against the cold wall.

The rain continued to beat against the glass, but the room felt warmer now.

For the first time in days, I felt like I could take a full breath.

The door behind me creaked open.

I stood up quickly, my hand reaching for the IV pole again.

But it wasn’t a stranger.

It was Giovanni.

His dark coat was soaked with rain, and his face was bruised and pale.

He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped as he stepped into the room.

“Giovanni,” I whispered.

He looked at Luca first, his eyes softening as he saw the steady rise and fall of our son’s chest.

“He’s safe, Lauren,” Giovanni said, his voice gravelly. “It’s over.”

“Where is Vance?” I asked.

“He tried to leave the city,” Giovanni said. “The feds picked him up at the harbor half an hour ago.”

Giovanni took a slow step toward the crib, his boots leaving wet tracks on the floor.