Dani's POV:

I lay in our bed, the silent darkness presenting me with the calm surroundings of the dark room. The sounds I hear within my earshot are of my husband's breathing as he sleeps beside me, his safe arms enfolded around me and my head resting on his chest and the cooing of little Mary-Kate asleep in her crib just a few feet away from us. To this day, his heartbeat remains to be my favorite song, a lullaby to soothe me with his strong presence.

Our beloved twin daughters, Isabella and Delilah are safely asleep in their attic bedroom, which also serves as their personal "tree-house".

It's during these nights when he falls asleep first that I can think about how I had come to be here by God's hand, how I had become a wife, mother and a fugitive of the law by being married to a Saint.

I was the wife of a wanted man, he who was seen as a deadly criminal by people who were too blind to see the real intentions of his motives, and in that time, he had helped me heal from my own wounds.

If I told anyone my story, they would say what he and I felt for each other in the past was merely Hero-Syndrome, where the young damsel in distress becomes infatuated with the big strong hero who swoops in to save her.

While I had been fairly young when we first encountered one another, love was the last thing on my mind when we connected. We only viewed each other as comrades-in-arms, a 27-year-old Irishman and a 19-year-old American girl who shared common interests of vigilantism.

Then, I began to see how determined he became for me not to be hurt again, for any harm to befall me. At first, I had thought it had been due to me being bodily damaged and literally falling unconscious into his arms that drove him into the alpha-male protector mode.

It was an argument of rage-filled stubbornness that drew us together into our first kiss, and afterwards when I saw that look in his eyes… I never recognized that light in a man's eyes when they were directed at me before.

He wasn't looking at me with primal lust or fueled anger. It was a look of confusion, like he had never really kissed a woman like that, with passion that wasn't meant to make me recoil away. Perhaps, he even expected me to do so…

But, I was still young and confused. Here was this man, a genuinely honest, if not crude, and caring one who would do just about anything to make sure I was well. And the further we were on our journey of God's work, so was I at the same time falling slowly from friendly companionship into these deeper feelings I had little to no idea how to endure or comprehend.

When I finally gave into my desires for him, I felt different than the meek orphan scholar girl stuck in between high school and college. My bravery grew with my feelings for this man lying beside me. Nowadays, he still tells me that our daughters and I deserve better than a cottage with barely any electricity, that I should leave him and pursue my former dreams of my teenage years.

He believes that he stole my chance from moving on with my life after he left me six years ago after Rocco's death…when he got me pregnant with our twin daughters.

When I first saw the plus sign on the pregnancy test, I knew my life was sealed forever, and I wouldn't want to trade it for all the luxurious treasures in the world.

All I want is my family: Murphy, my brother… My precious daughters… And the only man I would ever allow to claim me was Connor.

He is my husband, my champion, my best friend, and my Saint.

AN: I think this could've been better. Let me know if I should do one for Connor… Thanks!