Promises in the Dark

**Sofia's POV:**

I watched him work, this dangerous man who ruled an empire built on violence and fear, carefully unbuckling the delicate straps of my shoes with such gentleness it made my throat tight. When he finished, he slid his hands up my calves, his thumbs digging into the sore muscles with perfect pressure.

"Better?" he asked, looking up at me with those impossibly blue eyes.

"So much better." I bit my lip, then asked the question that had been weighing on me all evening. "Are you still scared? About being a father?"

Ace was quiet for a long moment, his hands stilling on my legs. The moonlight streaming through the window cast half his face in shadow, making him look almost ethereal. Finally, he looked up at me, and the vulnerability in his expression nearly broke me.

"Terrified. Every single day. Every single moment."

"Me too," I admitted, my voice small.

His expression softened instantly. "Yeah?"

"I should be thinking about my future, my education, normal things." I placed my hand over his where it rested on my leg. "But I want this. I want him. I want our family, even if it scares me senseless."

"Even though it means adjusting all your plans?"

"Plans change. Dreams evolve." I smiled, hoping he could see the truth in my eyes. "Besides, this is a dream too. One I didn't know I wanted until you came crashing into my life and turned everything upside down."

Ace moved up the bed, lying beside me and pulling me against his chest with infinite care. His hand found its usual resting place on my belly, and right on cue, our son kicked in response to his father's touch.

"He always does that for you," I murmured, feeling the flutter of movement beneath both our hands. "Barely moves for me, but the second you touch me, he's auditioning for Cirque du Soleil."

"He knows his daddy." Ace's voice held a note of wonder that made my heart squeeze. "Smart kid. Already knows who'll sneak him extra dessert and let him stay up past bedtime."

"You're going to spoil him rotten, aren't you?"

"Absolutely." No hesitation. "He's going to have everything I didn't. Everything. Love, safety, choices. He'll never know what it's like to be afraid in his own home."

I felt tears prick at my eyes. "You're going to be an amazing father, Ace."

"I hope so." His voice was barely a whisper. "God, I hope so."

We lay there in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when two people are completely at ease with each other. I felt myself drifting off, warm and safe and utterly loved. But Ace's voice pulled me back from the edge of sleep.

"Sofia?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

I turned my head slightly to look at him in the dim light. "For what?"

"For choosing me." His hand pressed gently against my belly, feeling another small kick. "For staying when you had every reason to run. For giving me this—" His voice cracked slightly. "For giving me a family. A real family. For believing I could be something other than what I was made to be."

I reached up, my hand finding his cheek in the darkness. "You don't have to thank me for loving you, Ace. It's the easiest thing I've ever done. Even when you're being impossible and overprotective and absolutely ridiculous."

His kiss was soft, reverent, nothing like the fierce, passionate ones we usually shared. This was different—a promise, a vow, a future sealed in one gentle touch of lips.

When we broke apart, Ace helped me change into one of his t-shirts—soft, worn, smelling like him. My preferred sleepwear now that nothing else fit comfortably over my belly. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed in beside me, immediately pulling me back against the warmth of his chest.

"Goodnight, baby," he whispered against my hair, his breath warm on my neck.

"Goodnight," I murmured back, already half asleep.

But as I drifted off, I felt Ace's hand slip under my shirt, his palm warm and protective against my bare belly. And I heard him whisper, so quietly I almost missed it:

"Goodnight, Jaxon. Daddy's got you. Both of you. I promise. Always and forever."

---

**Ace's POV:**

I waited until Sofia's breathing evened out into the deep, steady rhythm of sleep before I carefully extracted myself from the bed. She stirred slightly, making a small sound of protest, but didn't wake. I stood there for a moment, just watching her—this incredible woman who'd somehow seen past all my darkness and decided I was worth saving.

I grabbed my journal from the nightstand—a habit Sofia had gotten me into, said it helped process the chaos in my head—and moved to the armchair by the window. The moonlight was bright enough to write by, casting everything in silver and shadow.

*It's been months since the explosion. Months since I nearly lost everything. Sofia told me about Jaxon shortly after I woke up—I'll never forget the fear and hope mixed together in her eyes when she said those words: "I'm pregnant."*

*She had false labor contractions tonight. For approximately seven minutes, I genuinely believed I was going to lose them both. In those seven minutes, I understood what true fear actually feels like. Not the fear of death—I've faced that more times than I can count. Not the fear of pain—I've endured torture that would break most men. But the fear of loss. Of living in a world without them. That's a terror I'd never experienced before, and it nearly paralyzed me.*

*I told Sofia I'm terrified of being a father. That's the understatement of the fucking century. I'm petrified. Every time I imagine holding our son, I see my father's hands instead of mine—brutal, unforgiving, destructive. Every time I think about teaching Jaxon things, I remember the lessons Kai taught me: how to kill efficiently, how to inflict maximum pain, how to suppress every human emotion until you become a walking corpse.*

*But then I look at Sofia, and I remember that I'm not him. She sees something in me worth loving—something I still can't quite see in myself. She trusts me with our child. She trusts me with her life. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.*

*Maybe love can break the cycle of violence and abuse.*

*Maybe I can be the father I never had.*

I paused, listening to Sofia's quiet breathing, the way she unconsciously reached for me even in sleep.

*Dr. Morrison said it could be any day now. Part of me wants to freeze time, to keep Sofia safe and pregnant and here with me in this bubble where it's just us. But another part—a growing, increasingly urgent part—can't wait to meet him. To hold Jaxon. To look into his eyes and make him a promise: that I'll be better. That I'll protect him from everything, including myself if necessary.*

*Sofia says I'm already a good father because I care so much about being one. I desperately hope she's right.*

A soft cry from the bed made me look up sharply. Sofia was shifting restlessly, her hand reaching across the empty space where I should be, searching for me even in sleep. I immediately closed the journal and returned to her side, sliding back under the covers as quietly as possible.

"Ace?" she mumbled, still more asleep than awake.

"I'm here, baby." I pulled her close, feeling her relax against me instantly, like coming home. "Right here."

"Don't leave," she whispered, so quietly I almost didn't hear it.

Something in my chest cracked open. "Never," I promised, pressing a kiss to her temple, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. "I'm not going anywhere. Not ever."

She settled back into deep sleep almost immediately, her breathing evening out again. I lay there in the darkness, one hand on her belly where our son grew stronger every day, where I could feel his occasional kicks and movements—proof that he was real, that this was really happening.

In a few weeks, everything would change. Our carefully constructed world would expand to include this tiny, helpless person who would depend on us for everything. The thought should terrify me—and it did—but it also filled me with something I'd rarely felt before Sofia came into my life.

Hope. Real, tangible, almost painful hope for a future that wasn't just about survival and violence and power. A future about living. About being genuinely happy. About breaking free from the demons of my past and building something beautiful and pure with the woman I loved more than I thought possible.

I felt Jaxon kick against my palm, a strong, definite movement that made me smile in the darkness.

"We're ready for you, kid," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Your mom and I—we're going to figure this out together. We'll probably mess up a lot, but we'll try our best. And I promise you, I swear on everything I am, you'll never know the kind of fear I grew up with. You'll never feel unwanted or unloved or like you're a burden. You'll only know that you're cherished. That you're safe. That your father would burn the entire world to ashes before he'd let anyone hurt you."

Another kick, stronger this time, almost aggressive.

"Yeah, I hear you. You're going to be just like your mother—stubborn, fierce, absolutely fearless. You're going to keep us on our toes every single day, aren't you? I can already tell."

Sofia sighed contentedly in her sleep, unconsciously pressing closer to me, seeking my warmth even in dreams. I held them both a little tighter, breathing in this moment of perfect peace.

Tomorrow, I'd probably wake up terrified again. I'd probably doubt myself a hundred times before breakfast. I'd probably have moments where I wondered if I was capable of this, if I was setting us all up for disaster.

But tonight, right now, with my family safe in my arms and moonlight streaming through the window, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—we were going to be okay. Better than okay. We were going to be happy.

And I was going to be the father my son deserved, even if it killed me trying.