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“Makes sense,” he said softly and then his lips skimmed my neck. “How are you doing?”
I just shook my head because he knew the answer to that. As hard as things had been with Aleks, I didn’t want to lose him.
“Don’t let them force you out of his life, Dante,” he whispered against my ear.
“They won’t have to when he finds out why he got kidnapped.”
I wasn’t surprised when Magnus turned me around, his hands gently gripping my upper arms. His right hand came up to clasp the side of my face. “I wish I knew what to say to you to make you see what I see,” he murmured softly and then his eyes skimmed my face. “I thought I’d lost you,” he suddenly whispered.
I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face against his chest, loving how strong he felt against me. How many times had I needed his strength in the last week? How many times would I need it in the days, weeks, months…years to come?
“I’ll get there, Magnus,” I murmured. “Someday I’ll see what you see.” It wasn’t an easy promise to make, but I meant it. Yeah, I’d done a lot of shit wrong in my life, but I’d done some good to. Maybe I hadn’t always gone about it the right way, but I’d done the best I could. Magnus was a smart man and smart men didn’t love unworthy fuck-ups. I was definitely going to keep fucking up, but I wasn’t a fuck-up. The man in my arms was the reason I could finally distinguish between those two things.
I felt Magnus tense up in my hold a moment later and I didn’t need to hear the words to know what he was going to say.
“They’re here, baby.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Magnus
I didn’t know who to pity more, Dante or Aleks.
Because for all the overwhelming attention Pedro and Juliana Silva showered on one son, they completely ignored the other. From the moment they’d walked through the door, their youngest son in tow, Aleks’s and Dante’s parents began the process of tearing the two brothers apart. Dante didn’t even receive so much as an acknowledgement when he opened the door for them, while they wouldn’t stop touching Aleks despite his obvious discomfort. And while I couldn’t fault the older couple for their sheer happiness at being reunited with Aleks, I struggled not to toss their asses out of my house, especially after their response to Dante when he greeted his youngest brother, Breno. His father had physically drawn the young boy away while his mother had leaned down and murmured the detestable slur, “bicha” to the child. I’d been about to say something when Dante had cast me a look and shaken his head.
I focused my attention on Aleks as his parents spoke rapid-fire Portuguese to him. I could tell he was having trouble keeping up and whatever they were saying to him was making him shift back and forth on his feet. His fingers went to his collar which his stepfather immediately noticed and then started to reach for, presumably to try to take it off his son.
“No,” Dante said as he stepped between Aleks and his stepfather as Aleks let out a little whimper.
An argument ensued that I didn’t need to know Portuguese to follow. Aleks stepped back several paces as Dante and his parents went at it and when I went to Aleks’s side, he pressed against me and buried his face against my shoulder. The move was unusual for him because, despite his recent behavior with seeking my approval for everything and anything, he rarely touched me. I could feel his slight frame shaking violently, worsening as his parents and Dante fought. The physical reaction was the first time I’d seen much emotion from Aleks since the night we’d escaped the Parks house. There’d been no tears, no anger, no excitement, no joy. He only seemed to operate in a state of anxiety or without any kind of emotion at all. The rare exceptions were the pleasure he took in interacting with Ace as well as the flowers he clearly loved so much.
“Dante,” I said softly, not wanting to upset Aleks any further.
Despite the raised voices, Dante heard me immediately and turned to look at me. His eyes fell to Aleks and luckily his parents seemed to finally realize what was happening and they quickly went silent.
His mother approached us, her wary eyes on me before she carefully reached out to touch her son on the shoulder. She spoke softly and slowly to him and he finally lifted his head.
In English she said, “Go get your things, meu filho. Your father and I are taking you home.”
Aleks’s eyes flitted to Dante who remained silent, the pain in his eyes clear as day.
“Do as your mother says, Aleksander,” Pedro said, his voice soft, but firm. I felt Aleks stiffen against me, automatically reacting to the order in the only way he knew how – he dropped his eyes and did what he was told.
