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“My woman here,” he squeezed her hip, “is a licensed therapist with connections in the department. She’s already made the call.”
“They’ll be here soon,” Amara chimed in, her voice low.
The cop nodded. “Look, you can explain this away, but I’ll have to file a report.”
“Okay. What about that one?” Dante tilted his head to indicate the boy sitting with Tristan.
“No idea,” the cop said. “We’ve gone back eight years, which the boy said was his age, but can’t find a thing in our system. No missing person report. No contacts. We’ll keep looking but the chances are slim on that one.”
“Thanks, Derek,” Dante gave the cop a nod. “Keep me posted.”
The cop gave a sharp nod and turned to talk to the line of young boys sitting on the steps, where his partner was already talking while two paramedics checked them over. Tristan sat a few feet away, head lowered, as the boy with him talked, Morana watching them from the side.
“What’s going on?” Amara asked her man, looking up at him, seeing the dark shadows fall over his face.
“We found the kids here,” he told her, turning to look at the scene. “All kidnapped, ready to be shipped. Vin took one of the guys we caught to the Compound for interrogation. One died, the other is in the wind. Eight kids, Amara. Eight boys.”
Amara pressed a kiss to his shoulder, letting him get it out.
They both watched as Tristan kept his head lowered, listening to whatever the boy was saying. Amara had never seen her friend like that, so focused on a child. But she knew he was protective of kids so maybe that shouldn’t have surprised her.
“It’s just the beginning. We have opened Pandora’s box. These nightmares will keep coming to light, and I want to build something better for our children. Stand with me, yeah?”
“You don’t even have to ask, Dante,” Amara told him softly. “I’ll always stand with you.”
“I know you keep wondering what your role will be in this new order we have,” Dante mused, looking at the boys. “You are the healer, Amara. You are the lighthouse guiding these lost souls to the shore. They need someone to guide them, someone who’s emotionally intelligent, strong enough to understand trauma and survival and still be light. That’s you.”
He turned his neck, piercing her with his dark eyes, his voice dripping with conviction. “We’ll find more children, more young boys and girls, in different conditions. We don’t know how many. They’ll need to be rehabilitated. They’ll need help – physically, which I can arrange, but also mentally, which is your forte. We can give them a chance at life, Amara. We can leave a legacy in this godforsaken place. So, will you play with me, my queen?”
Amara looked at the innocent lives marred with this blip of darkness and felt her heart clench. She knew how much it took out of the soul to simply survive against the odds. She knew pain, and loss, and sheer force of will. And she knew she wouldn’t be standing there without the help she’d had. There was no other option for her.
Turning her gaze back to the man she not only loved but felt truly proud to call hers right that second, she gave him her answer. “Yes, I will, my king.”
Let the games begin.
It was late by the time the paramedics and the police wrapped up. Amara stayed behind as the two guys from social services showed up, helping them navigate the fate of the two kids at the hospital, ensuring they were also prescribed some form of counseling for their experience.
She had started to ask the same for the kid who’d been sitting with Tristan when Morana had given her a subtle shake of her head. Keeping that down for the time, Amara had walked with the guys as they took the other boys to meet with their guardians. By
the time everyone was gone, there was only her, Dante, Tristan, Morana, and that kid left in the area.
Amara walked over to Dante’s side as he sat down on the steps, watching her. He spread his legs and pulled her between them, pushing his face into her stomach, murmuring words in a tone so low she couldn’t hear. She sifted her fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of the strands, feeling the warmth of his breaths against her tummy, and just held him as he held her, taking strength from her presence.
He tugged on her hips until she sat down on his lap, and snuggled his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. Amara felt her heart skip a beat, as it always did with him, and kept him close, her eyes lingering on the child who fell asleep with his head on Tristan’s lap. She saw him look at Morana, saw them have a silent conversation, and saw Morana bend down, giving him a small kiss on the lips. It still awed Amara some days, the way Tristan allowed Morana so close into his space. He scooped up the kid in his arms and stood, the movement taking the attention of the man holding her.
Dante looked to the side at them while keeping Amara tight by his side. “You guys heading back?”
“Yes,” Morana responded, taking her car keys out of her pockets. “Little Xander here is knocked out and Tristan wants to talk to him some more. We figured we’ll take him with us, and figure stuff out later.”
Dante gave her a nod, exchanging a look with Tristan. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Tristan nodded, carrying the boy, Xander, in his arms to the car Morana had driven. He lay Xander in the backseat, got in the passenger’s side while Morana got behind the wheel, and with a wave at them, drove out.
“How much do you bet they’ll keep the kid?” Dante’s voice had her looking down, his hand splaying over her stomach possessively.
Amara shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”
Dante gave her a little smile, and before she could take a breath, stood up with her in his arms, making her squeal lowly and grab his shoulders. Heart racing, she watched as he deposited her in the Rover, jogging around to the driver’s side, and got in, pulling out of the eerie place.
